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Chris never moved.I took a pencil from my jacket pocket and started, my fingers as always trying to hang on to the pencil as it flicked across the pad. My pencil is not magic, it's just an ordinary artists pencil, it's just that when I sketch I always feel as if the pencil is controlled by my eyes, not my fingers, they are just along for the ride.I've never seen my face as I work, later Chris told me how I looked, even had me work in front of a mirror, I hated seeing my reflection, but I did get to see what she meant, why she was so surprised when I stood up and after grabbing my satchel walked over and held up the sketch for her to see.The sketch I had first shown her was one I'd drawn from memory, Rhonda sprawled naked upon her bed, partly in shadow, and to the side, a quarter view from behind, myself, dressed in the clothes she gave me, busy sketching her.The sketch I'd done as Chris watched me was almost identical, except that in place of Rhonda is was Chris herself sprawled on. Neither did I. It was senior year. Spencer and I were both 18. I wanted to own a flower shop, he wanted to get out of town. I had had a few boyfriends at that point, nothing too serious. I wasn’t really into dating. I had fooled around with a couple guys before, but I was still a virgin. Spencer was the farthest thing from a virgin. I was sitting in my bed that Thursday night, on my laptop, typing up an English paper. “Hey Pay!” I heard a voice say. I looked up and saw Spencer standing at my door. Hardly an unusual sight. “Oh hey,” I said, saving my work and closing my laptop. “Bad night?” “You don’t wanna know,” Spencer said as he dropped his bag on my floor. “Just a few more months and I’m done with my mother.” “Hey, you’ve made it 18 years! You can make it.” Spencer grinned, “I know… It’s like the last lap of a race. I can see the finish line!” “Well, I’m happy for you. Just don’t forget me when you leave.” “I could never forget you,” Spencer said with a look of sudden.
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