Sweatpants Season

by Danielle Allen

  Carlos shook his head. “Bryant wouldn’t do that.”

  “Bryant did that.”

  “I know you don’t like him and I can’t say I blame you, but…” He stared at the dress. “Someone sent that email in. B wouldn’t do some shit like that—especially knowing that we work together at Re-Mix. He wouldn’t.”

  “Are you telling me I didn’t recognize my dress on my sister’s body in the newsletter?”

  “I’m saying that it had to be a coincidence.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You don’t really believe that.”

  “I’ve known Bryant since we pledged freshman year. That man has been a brother to me for eight years, and he wouldn’t jeopardize it by doing some dumb shit.”

  I took a step back. “So, you’re calling me a liar?”

  “No, not at all. I’m sorry. If that’s your sister, I’m sorry and I will cuss him the fuck out. All I’m saying is that I know Bryant a lot better than you. He’s not perfect, but he’s not what you’re saying. He wouldn’t have done this on purpose.”

  “Are you kidding me? He’s exactly what I’m saying he is. He put a picture of my sister in a newsletter with the goal of humiliating and objectifying her because he thought she was me. And you’re still defending him, condoning his behavior. You’re just as bad.”

  “I’m not defending or condoning. I’m just…” He looked like he was at a loss for words. “I will get to the bottom of this and I will make sure no more newsletters go out. That’s why I’m on the show—to make sure he doesn’t go too far. And that would be too far.”

  “You know what… I don’t know why I was expecting you to be any different than what you’re showing me right now.”

  “Akila, I don’t know what you want from me.”

  “Nothing.” I took another step backward. “I don’t want anything from you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The idea hit me two days later.

  I’d trudged through the thirty-seven hours after my confrontation with Carlos like a zombie. I ate, showered, and slept. I didn’t cry, but I felt like I was going to break down every time I thought about it. I knew I was going to have to see him on Friday for the Re-Mix staff meeting, and I knew I would have to touch base with him regarding our final projects for photography class, but just the thought of him made me feel unnerved. I knew I needed to harden my resolve and control my emotions before I was forced to see and interact with him.

  As I was trying and failing to erase Carlos Richmond from my memory, it was a random thought of him in the wee hours of the morning that inspired my final project for photography class.

  “Something that makes a statement,” I exclaimed, jumping out of bed. “Holy shit!”

  “What are you doing? It’s so early,” Meghan grumbled from the other side of my door.

  “Meghan!” I swung the door open, startling her.

  Staring at me as if I’d lost my mind, my best friend clutched her mug in her hand. After a lengthy pause, she took a sip of her coffee. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  I laughed.

  “I’m serious.” She assessed me, taking another sip out of her steaming cup. “You were moping around yesterday, and now you’re up at quarter ‘til seven talking to yourself and you have boundless energy.” She lowered her voice. “Are you high?”

  I chuckled harder. “No!”

  She giggled into her mug. “Lies.”

  “No, I just figured out what I’m doing my final project on for Luca Romano.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Dick prints!”

  She sputtered, coffee droplets dropping onto the hardwood floor and her robe. “What?”

  “We have to photograph something that makes a statement. This week’s lesson is about making a statement. We did a fashion/beauty photoshoot, landscape photoshoot, portraiture, and street photography. So, our final projects are supposed to be conceptual photos that make a statement,” I explained with a cheesy grin.

  “And the statement you want to make is…you like dick?”

  I threw my head back and laughed. “No! Men are not objectified to the degree that women are. But what if they were? What if society treated dick prints like they do cleavage?”

  She tapped her chin. “Dick prints are male cleavage.”

  “But we don’t—”

  “Or male cleavage is the V leading toward the dick. No, no, no it’s the dick print.” She appeared to be lost in thought. “Because the dick print is just—”

  “Are you done?” I laughed, and she joined in. “My point is that women are constantly objectified, but men would lose their shit if they were scrutinized, objectified, and sexualized the way we are.”

  “And not all dick prints are created equal. Lord knows not every man can make a pair of basketball shorts or sweatpants come to life.”

  My mind instantly went to Carlos, but I shook it off. “And that is exactly why men couldn’t handle it if we did to them what they do to us.”

  “What made you think of this?”

  “The Lost Boys’ newsletter actually. I was thinking about the fact that City Boy was telling Country Boy that it didn’t matter because the faces were cropped out.”

  She shook her head and then gestured for me to follow her. “I need to get ready for work.”

  Trailing behind her, I continued, “The fact that he didn’t think it was that big of a deal because he cropped most of the faces out is problematic. And when I heard that, I could only focus on the fact that he knowingly went after me and Alex. But it hit me that if the tables were turned, his reaction would likely be different.”

  She glanced at me before pulling items from her closet. “I still can’t believe he went through so much trouble just to prove your point.” She looked at me again. “And his dumb ass didn’t realize that he was proving your point.”

  “He did. He didn’t care. Trying to humiliate me was his goal.”

  “That piece of shit.”

  “He’s not even a piece of shit. He’s the whole shit.”

  She cackled as she laid her outfit on the bed. “I love this idea so much! I volunteer as tribute to assist you during the photoshoot.”

  “I bet.” I grinned. “I’m going to have to find some models.”

  “So…” She lifted her eyebrows. “I know someone who probably would be perfect for the photoshoot.”

  “Who?”

  “Someone whose phone number you blocked and whose dick you recently rode.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “If his number is blocked, so is his dick.”

  “If it’s two things I know, it’s blocking men and dicks.”

  “What is wrong with you?” I giggled.

  “I’m caffeinated, and I just found out I’m helping my best friend with a big dick scouting session.” She sipped her coffee and wiggled her hips. “But really, are you going to talk to him?”

  “About what? He made his choice.”

  “Yeah, but you two still have to work together.”

  “We were given four dating assignments and two of them have been published. One has been resubmitted to the editor, and I’m finishing writing the last one today.”

  “So, it’s over?”

  My chest felt tight. “Yes,” I answered softly. “There’s nothing else for us to talk about.”

  “I was talking about the Re-Mix job, but you clearly have Carlos on the brain.”

  “Oh, no. It’s just early.” I rubbed my temple and avoided eye contact. “Um, I don’t know what is going to happen with Re-Mix. I’ll find out at the meeting on Friday. But things look promising.”

  “Do you need to talk about the Carlos thing again? Sometimes it helps to get it off your chest.”

  I shook my head. “I told you everything. There’s nothing left to say.”

  “I understand where you’re coming from. I do. You two have opposing views regarding something that is important to you. I get that completely. If you don’t think it’s going to work,
you don’t think it’s going to work.” She frowned. “But it’s okay to admit you’re sad. I can see that you’re sad. You felt magic. That doesn’t happen all the time.”

  My eyes pricked with tears. “Yeah.” I shrugged. “Anyway…”

  She watched me for a second before giving me a sad smile. “Anyway, who are you going to ask to pose for these pictures?”

  Grateful for the change in subject, I focused my energy on my photography project. “I’m going to post something on social media and ask if any men want to participate. Then I’ll ask them to meet me on Saturday at the Riverfront.”

  Her eyes widened. “Will they be wet?”

  “No!” My voice exposed my amusement. “But that’s the only place I can think of that’s free and provides a diverse background. I could have one dude against the steps, one on the observatory, one near the water, one near the rocks, one propped against the sign.” I raised my arms. “The possibilities are endless.”

  “And it’s free.”

  “And that’s the best part of all.”

  “What are you going to have them wear?”

  “Sweatpants.” I wiggled my eyebrows. “And I’m going to call it—Sweatpants Season.”

  Clapping, Meghan squealed. “That’s perfect!”

  “I know!” I grinned.

  “Okay, I’m going to hop in the shower. But tonight, let’s make my grandma’s lasagna, watch a badass movie, and scroll through all of our contacts to find dicks to put on display.”

  I grinned. “That sounds amazing.”

  I left her to get ready for work. Getting comfortable at my desk, I started writing. By the time Meghan got off work, our lasagna plan turned into ordering a pizza. But we still scrolled through our contacts and decided on a mix of men we knew, men we wanted to know, and men we thought would be nice enough to agree to help me out for the assignment. We sent out twenty-four messages and received a response from twenty-two of them. By the end of the night, sixteen men agreed to pose for Saturday’s shoot.

  “I can’t wait,” Meghan expressed while we sat on the couch that night. “This week is going to fly by!”

  And it did.

  On Friday I arrived to Re-Mix donned in a sweater dress and a pair of knee-high boots. Even though I was anxious to know what Luna Daniels had decided regarding the permanent series writer position, I was more worried about seeing Carlos.

  “Akila, may I speak with you for a minute?” Luna asked as soon as I stepped off the elevator.

  My eyebrows flew up. “Yes, of course.” I followed her into her office and once I closed the door behind me, I asked, “Is everything okay?”

  She smiled at me. “Everything is fine. How are you?”

  “I’m well.” I looked at her uncertainly. “How are you?”

  “Today has been a good day.” She pulled a paper off of her desk and handed it to me.

  It was my article.

  “This is good,” she informed me.

  I was shocked; however, I beamed with pride. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “How would you like to be our new series writer?”

  “Oh my god, yes! I would love that!” I felt like I wanted to scream before giving her a bear hug. I settled on a handshake. “Thank you.”

  Her lips spread into an even wider smile. “I was hoping you’d say that. Your He Said, She Said articles are done, and I’d like to get you started on some other projects.”

  She briefly told me what I would be expected to do and bring to the Re-Mix family. After looking at her watch, she concluded that she was finished discussing it with me and that we’d continue on Monday morning for orientation.

  I was so delightfully fulfilled that I didn’t even think about Carlos until the moment I walked into the staff meeting. I was relieved when he wasn’t there, but I was curious. I was happy that he didn’t show up, but I was worried. I was glad I missed out on seeing him, but I was disappointed. I was a conflicting mess of emotions when it came to him, but when Luna began the staff meeting, Re-Mix had my entire focus.

  Until the meeting was over…

  “Does Carlos know I got the series writer position?” I asked Luna as casually as possible.

  “No,” she responded distractedly.

  “Oh, okay.”

  “But I’m sure he figured it out when I told him I wanted to submit his work as a contributor.” She looked up from her phone. “Contributors don’t come to the staff meeting if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “I’m not,” I sputtered. “I was just trying to see—”

  She gave me a sidelong glance and then walked out the door.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Holy dick print.

  Only twelve of the men who said they’d come actually showed up. They were all handsome in their own way. Some had great smiles. Some had pretty eyes. But all of them, with their different body types, skin tones, and heights, were aesthetically pleasing.

  Too bad no one’s face will be shown.

  I scrolled through and picked the twelve best shots, one of each man, and on Monday, I arrived to class early to upload my raw images to Luca Romano’s computer. I took my seat and waited. With each passing second, my heart nervously rattled.

  And then he walked in.

  I pretended I didn’t notice him and busied myself writing in my notebook.

  “Hey,” Carlos greeted me as he took the seat to my right.

  Without looking at him, I replied, “Hello.”

  “Akila.”

  I closed my eyes momentarily as I relished in the sound of my name from his lips. Swallowing hard, I let my lashes flutter open, and I continued writing in my notebook.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I called and texted, but it seemed like you blocked me.”

  I nodded but didn’t look his way.

  “Please look at me.”

  Sighing, I turned my head and met his gaze. My heart clenched and I knew it was a mistake. The way he looked at me always did something to me and that moment was no exception. The tremor in my belly was intense. But instead of the intensity spreading through my lower body, it spread through my chest.

  “I’m sorry,” he uttered. He moved closer, but he refrained from touching me. “I was wrong.”

  I know you were wrong. My eyes narrowed, but I remained silent.

  “I just—”

  “Welcome back to class, everyone!” Luca Romano called out from his desk at the front of the room.

  Shifting my gaze to our photography teacher, I turned my page in my notebook and prepared to take notes and concentrate on the lesson.

  “It’s good to be back!” Luca clapped his hands together and then propped himself on top of his desk. “I’ve seen such great transformation from your initial photos to the photos that you submitted last week. I have no doubt my last video on power shots and perspectives has enhanced what you uploaded today.”

  He handed each of us a small portfolio of our work that we’d completed and a description of the assignment next to it. Giving us fifteen minutes, everyone poured over their own work and then we were to make our way around the class. As everyone rose to their feet, Carlos reached out for me.

  “Akila, can we talk about this?”

  His fingers seared my skin and I pulled my arm away. “There’s nothing to talk about. And we’re supposed to be checking out portfolios right now,” I murmured as I walked across the room. I could still feel his touch long after I left our table.

  When I returned to my seat, Carlos didn’t say a word to me. I didn’t know what was worse, the desperate plea in his eyes as he reached for me or the silence that seemed to thunder in my ears.

  “Now I want you to pick your favorite image from your portfolio and briefly explain to the class what it is, why it’s important, and what you’d hoped to convey.” Luca opened his arms wide. “This is what Visual Storytelling is all about.”

  “I’ll go first, Luca,” Jennifer raised her hand and then jumped to her f
eet when he nodded.

  “Everyone put your hands together for Jennifer,” Luca instructed and light applause followed.

  I just sat there. I was saving my applause for everyone else.

  Holding up a naked photo of herself, Jennifer grinned. She handed it to someone in the first row and asked them to pass it around. “This photo was from the self-portrait photography lesson. We were told to focus on our natural selves and what’s more natural than being nude. I work out constantly since I’m a personal trainer, so staying in great shape is important to me. I take pride in my work and the work I put into my body, so that’s why I wanted to showcase it.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes at her. When the photo got to our table, I took it and immediately handed it to Carlos. Without looking at it, Carlos handed it to the person in front of us. I felt the corner of my lips move slightly.

  The rest of the class took turns presenting their photos, and then it was my turn.

  “My favorite from my portfolio is the self-portrait. I am constantly working, so I set up my tripod and programed my camera to take automatic shots to capture me writing. Even though I had prettier pictures from when I was mindful of the camera, and I had my smile and face tilted just right, this one is real. This is what I look like when I’m working. This is me fulfilling my purpose in life.” I looked around the room as I held my picture higher. “Thank you.”

  I walked to my seat to the sound of clapping.

  “Very good, Akila. Carlos, come on up.”

  Carlos was very causal in jeans and a grey hoodie. He looked so comfortable and at ease with himself, and there was a sexiness to the way he moved. He flashed the class a smile and my eyes watered.

  Get it together, Akila, I yelled at myself. I can do this. I can do all things.

  “My favorite from my portfolio is the sunrise/sunset dual photos.” He held them up. “My partner and I went to my favorite place at the Riverfront. I love these shots because it shows change. Even though the location doesn’t change, the two pictures are completely different. So much happened between when one was taken and when the other was taken, but none of that takes away from how beautiful they both are.” He paused as he looked at the picture. Glancing at me, he continued, “It’s also my favorite for some personal reasons.” With that, he walked back to his seat.