"Thanks," he shot back with a smirk. "So what next? Do you have to get back to your friend's?"
I checked my phone. Casey had promised to text me when she was on her way home from the party. In case she forgot, which was definitely possible, I sent her a text asking where she was.
"I think she's still at the party," I told him. "Do you mind if I hang out for a while longer?"
"No, you're welcome to stay as long as you'd like," Jonathan assured me. "But I'm not sure what to do that's not a bar."
"I'd like to check out the band you were talking about, if that's okay."
"Oh, yeah, sure," Jonathan fumbled.
"We can do something else if you don't want to go back to your apartment," I offered, his response making me feel a bit awkward.
"No, it's fine. I've honestly never had anyone at my place before. I'm trying to remember if I left it a mess."
"Really? You've never had anyone over?" I reiterated in surprise. "Why not?"
Jonathan shrugged. "Umm, I don't really know. I usually meet people out, I guess. But yeah, let's go there." I followed Jonathan across the intersection and down a side street. The reflection of the water shimmered at the end.
"So, Rachel's never been here?"
"No," he stated adamantly. "I needed to take a break every once in a while. But she asked, trust me."
I nodded, imagining her agitation with not knowing where he lived. But I also remembered him disappearing a few days each week, and she probably wouldn't have let that happen if she knew where to find him.
We crossed the street at the end of the road and followed the water toward the marina.
"Why did you stay?" I decided to ask, considering how long he put up with her, and recognizing how often he needed to be away from her.
"Uh, what?" Jonathan questioned in confusion. "You mean with Rachel?"
"You had every right to get out way before you did. What made you stay?"
"I thought we agreed not to talk about her or anything else depressing?" Jonathan avoided, approaching an old white brick building along the wharf.
"You're right," I conceded. I eyed the worn structure warily as Jonathan slid his key in the black metal door.
"Don't judge it by the outside," Jonathan advised. "They completely gutted it." When he opened the door, he flipped on the lights, illuminating a metal grated staircase that led to an opening above.
"I guess they did," I said, admiring the contemporary space at the top of the stairs. White walls stretched about twenty feet to an exposed beam ceiling. An entire wall was lined with brick and mill-sized paned windows that overlooked the water. The floors appeared to be original, but the thick planks were newly varnished. "This place is amazing."
"I was lucky to find it," Jonathan admitted.
I walked over to the small black table set in front of a window to view the few boats rocking on the water below. Across the wharf was a boatyard where more boats awaited warmer temperatures before returning to the seas.
"Want something to drink?" Jonathan offered from the kitchen area of the studio. It was sleek with stainless everything and tall wooden cabinets suspended above a marble countertop.
"No, I'm fine."
Jonathan removed a beer from the fridge and flipped it open. He approached the entertainment unit set on a long black table against the wall. I found a seat on the sofa that sat perpendicular to the kitchen and the windows, lending the perfect view of the entire room. The beige sofa was linear and modern in design, but more comfortable than it appeared.
As I sunk into the cushion, I peered up at an open platform suspended next to the kitchen wall. Metal stairs led to what I assumed to be his bedroom, but it was too high to see at this angle.
His studio was so... clean. I didn't know why he was worried. It was almost too clean. That's when it struck me that there wasn't anything in it other than the furniture. No artwork or decor of any kind. Nothing... personal.
"How long have you lived here?" I asked, thinking that maybe he was still working on it.
"Since I graduated," Jonathan revealed, scrolling through his downloads to find the band he'd told me about while we played pool.
"Two years?" I confirmed, scanning the room again.
"Just about," he agreed. Acoustic guitar strums echoed through the room followed by a woman's smooth voice. "I know. It's pretty... minimal. I wouldn't even know how to begin decorating it."