“Have you come up with a theme for your final project?”

Regan jerked his attention to the sound of Camryn’s voice. “Excuse me?” They’d been housemates for almost six months and known each other for a year beyond that, but this was the first time Camryn had taken an interest in Regan’s artwork.

“I’ll use English.” Cam crooked one brow. “The big theatre show or whatever you all call it that’s in a little less than a month and half. What’s your theme or idea or the art term for project thingy?”

“It’s an exhibition at the Kline Gallery and yes, I’ve got a theme picked out. The title is still up in the air.” Regan held his breath for a beat. “Right now I’m going with Confined Obsession.” Well, that was part of the title, anyway.

Regan stared at Camryn, with no idea what Camryn thought as he stared back at him with his drop-dead gorgeous green eyes. Regan stifled a groan. The guy could model professionally. Cam spent just enough time at the gym to be sculpted without getting too veiny, and he was one of those rare creatures who didn’t have a ton of body hair all over the place. Regan swore Camryn Tate was made for photography.

Too bad Cam never bothered to volunteer to be Regan’s model.

Instead of speaking, Camryn nibbled on the corner of his mouth, no doubt deep in thought. The longer he stayed silent, the more Regan’s skin crawled. He wasn’t totally sold on the project theme, but he didn’t have much choice. “Confine” sounded so harsh... he wanted something equally emotional, but better said.

“How do you suppose you’re going to show this confinement? I mean, it sounds like you’re talking about someone being in jail.” Camryn strummed his guitar, his fingers gliding over the strings to create a melody Regan had never heard before.

“It’s a working title.”

“That makes more sense.” Cam closed his eyes and nodded in slow motion, caught up in his new composition. “Did you have to submit a timeline or anything? I’ve got exactly five weeks to get the bones of my comp project done. I’m stumped. I thought maybe if you had a plan, your hyper plotting would rub off on me. It worked at mid-terms.”

“Plotting?” Regan snickered. Here he’d thought no one recognized his latent OCD tendencies. Cam got him, as always. Regan stared at the computer screen. He felt a little better about his unspoken choice for the show. “Well, the plan was to show people in the midst of everyday activities but with the confinements and constraints put upon them by society. You know, like Cassidy and her son... Skylar with his suit and tie.” Me and my sexuality with a roommate who doesn’t know I want him for more than platonic reasons.

Yeah, there was no way in hell he’d throw that in. Camryn knew Regan was gay. Hell, everyone knew. Regan didn’t exactly keep his taste for men hidden. But Regan wasn’t interested in showing himself in the photographs -- he’d worked too damn hard in the space of four years obtaining his photography degree to do more than a series of self-portraits. Besides, his internship at Rock Monthly wasn’t going to up and disappear because of his sexuality. Max and Skylar loved Regan’s take on capturing the musical community in photographic form. But the friendship with Cam might crumble if love were injected into the scene.