When I glance her way, Emily drops her gaze to her canvas, carefully avoiding mine. I wonder about her protest, if this was a mistake. No. I’m tired of second guessing myself. Wondering gets a person nowhere in life and I’m not going to remain broken to bits, mourning an ex-boyfriend who didn’t love me. I don’t know what to think about my mother. I’ll have to see her again, but after talking to Daddy, I want to put that off as long as possible. Fury burns within me. Why can’t I stop thinking about them? The smile on my Mom’s face haunts me. It was there every time Matt came over, especially the day I left. I was afraid they’d cry and I’d cry and it’d be a horrible day, but those two chipper people sent me off with a smile. They probably had sex in my bed right after I left. My fingers tangle in the drape, strangling it.
Blue Boy has his head dipped, concentrating on his work, when he says in that I-could-care-less voice of his, “Can she stop pulling the sheet? It’s moving.”
Nathan has avoided looking at me. Blue’s request makes Nathan turn. Those crystal blue eyes glance up from beneath dark lashes and our eyes lock. For a second, time stops. Something about him, about the intensity of that gaze, pins me in place, breathless. I can’t look away even though this isn’t the pose the class is drawing. My chin is turned toward Nathan, mouth open, lips parted so that I’m barely aware of the flow of air over them. My gaze is locked with his and it’s everything I can manage to look away. It’s not soon enough, though. The movement of Emily’s black head of hair breaks the spell over us.
She looks at Nathan and then back at me, her dark brows drawing tighter. Everyone else has their eyes on their work, drawing. When they look up, it’s no more than a glance, but Emily’s gaze isn’t like that. She’s watching us, and I think she knows he’s the one who left me in the hotel room. It’s impossible, but still, in that moment I swear she knows.
Resuming my pose, I drop the sheet, and turn my gaze back to the arm that’s resting on my thigh. I turn my mind to wondering what the finished paintings will look like.
Nathan finds his voice, “Thanks, Scott. Remember it’s difficult to hold a pose for the full three-hour class. The body wants to move. Any thought can make the resting lines of her face rise or fall. A breeze can make her shiver and tense. Part of capturing a live model is dealing with these changes and treating the model like a human being. With that said, we will address the model directly and kindly, if we notice she has moved.”
Carter clears his throat and speaks up, though his eyes remain on his drawing. “How will she be able to resume this pose next week? Won’t it change, at least a little bit? I mean they come and clean and our easels get moved. That alone is enough to change things. How are we supposed to do this week after week with any consistency?”
Nathan replies, “Good question. You all will be responsible for finding your location and moving your easel if required. I’ll take care of the pose and make sure it remains the same for the duration of this project.” Carter makes a noise in the back of his throat. He’s watching me, his hand still on his paper. His dark eyes have something to say, but he remains silent.
Nathan notices. He walks over to Carter’s desk and looks down at his work and then over at me. An eyebrow lifts like he’s impressed. “This is interesting. Tell me what you’re doing.”
Carter’s lips part but he doesn’t speak. He just watches me with an expression I can’t read. He mumbles, “Nothing, just trying something new.”
“Tell me.” Nathan is so demanding. It’s weird. Most of the TAs I met while on tour of the campus were wallflowers, but he’s not. He’s the farthest thing from it.
Carter doesn’t have to tell him crap, but he does. Clearing his throat, he points at parts of his work. “I’m drawing what I see, what I know. There are dark patches that have become a shadow across her soul. I’m drawing that—just the shadows.” Carter’s gaze drops to his work and he won’t look up. He doesn’t wait for Nathan’s reply, he just begins working again as if it didn’t matter.
Nathan glances my way, his blue gaze darkens. He knows Carter likes me. He senses it. That’s not the painting of an artist who doesn’t know the model. Nathan’s hand is on his chin, rubbing it slowly, watching over Carter’s shoulder. “Interesting.” The words fall on the floor like the clattering of pots and pans.
Emily looks over her shoulder at Carter, her gaze narrowed like he’s an idiot. That’s when Nathan approaches her desk. “Emily.”
“Nathan.” She sounds defiant, like she’s not changed her mind about what she said earlier.
He stares at her work for a few moments and sighs. “Come with me.” Emily isn’t happy, but she gets up. “Take your things. Class is almost over.”
“Fine.” She ducks down and packs up her work, finally tossing a blank canvas into her slot on the side of the room.
She wouldn’t draw me. What does that mean?
“Finish what you’re working on and pack up. Carter, please stay behind until I return to strike the set so the next class can use the space. I need to mark where all the furniture is positioned on the floor before Kerry moves. So, please, hang back a few moments. Kerry, I’ll grab your check while I’m at it. Be right back.” Nathan hurries out the door and down the hall until I can’t hear his footfalls.
That’s when things take a turn.
Chapter 10
Quinn DeMarques is staring at me as he packs his things. The look in his eyes makes my skin prickle in a bad way, like he’s going to do something stupid. I don’t look at him. Carter continues drawing, glancing up at me every few seconds.
When Quinn walks by, he stops at my feet and bends over, as if he’s tying his shoe. “Nice view.”
I don’t move, but I can’t let him think he affects me. “Fuck you.”
“Any time, babe.”
I glance at him. “What, do you need hand gestures? Fuck off, Quinn. Move along.” My words are sharp and strong, but he doesn’t stop smiling.
“I get it tramp. You think you’re too good for me? You think you’re better than everyone else?” He tips his head to the side and smiles, exposing his teeth. His eye teeth look as if they’ve been filed into fangs.
Have I said artists are weird? It’s a love it/ hate it thing. You have people like Emily who have their own minds with strong opinions of life and the world around them. Awesome. Then you have people like the jackass in front of me who smoked one too many in high school, got dubbed an art genius while tripping out, and then ended up here. He doesn’t belong here and ten bucks says he thinks vampires are real. He’s a creeper, one hundred percent.
After whipping his fangs out, he slowly stands and smears a line of chalk on his painting. It happens to be the line under my poorly drawn breast. He touches his tongue to his top lip and winks at me.
That’s when I hear Emily’s voice bellowing down the hallway. “This is bullshit! You can’t make me!”
“It’s your choice.”
“That’s not a fucking choice! And you left her in there with those assholes! You see how they’re looking at her! This is bullshit!” I hear her boots stomp down the hall and disappear into the stairwell. Damn. She’s not drawing me on principle. She thinks the guys aren’t mature enough to handle this, or maybe that I can’t handle it.
The thought would have grated before Quinn’s demonstration, but not now. Regardless, I’m not going to let some asshole control my life. This modeling gig solves a few problems for me. For one, I’ll have money—which I need thanks to El Buso and my rabid raccoon. Secondly, I’ve never felt so feminine, or so alive. I
like
modeling.
My mother would have a stroke. That is the unit of measurement for all Kerry currency. So maybe what I do isn’t Mom’s fault, but she hit midlife crisis and has been hugging that sucker for nearly a decade. I’m sick of seeing her wearing my clothes and talking the way I do. She copies my gestures and tries to be me. It’s enough to drive me crazy. Add in stealing Matt and she pushed me over the crazy line.
I didn’t notice him move, but Carter is up and rams his board into Quinn’s back. “Move, asshole.”
Quinn turns and sneers. “Couldn’t get this one to fuck you either, huh Carter? Good thing you can nail your roommate whenever you need to get some. Oh wait, that’s right. You don’t have a roommate. Came onto one too many in the shower. Am I right?” Quinn is laughing in Carter’s face, but my friend doesn’t move. He just stands there staring, his body becoming rigid, with his fists balling at his sides.
“Carter, he’s an asshole.” I wish I could get up, but I don’t want to expose myself. I can’t take the thin strip of sheeting and cover my top and bottom at the same time. I know he can’t fight, and he’s nearly done. I won’t have him expelled because of me. “Carter, walk away. Please.”
“That’s right, bitch. Tell him how it is. The women are for fucking, and you,” he looks at Carter like he’s worthless, “no one knows what the fuck you’re for.”
“Enough!” Nathan appears in the doorway, his arms folded over his chest, making that tight t-shirt cling to him like a second skin. His arm flies, pointing down the hall. “Go see Jax NOW. You are dropping this class.”
Quinn makes a face and then turns toward Nathan. “That’s bullshit, man.”
“Yeah, there’s a lot of bullshit around here lately. Let’s get rid of some. Leave. Now.” Nathan steps out of the doorway and glares at Quinn.
“Whatever.” Quinn is pissed, but he does as he’s told, and shoves through the door, muttering as he walks down the hall.
Carter and Nathan are the only two remaining. Nathan looks at both of us and then admits, “I know you know her. It’s fine.”
Carter is still mad. “It’s not fine and a lot of us know her. I’m with Emily on this one.” Carter looks over at me. “It’s not you, Kerry. It’s them.”
“It doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to do what I want. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with this.” Carter won’t look at me, which makes my mood sour further. “Carter, are you seriously going to go all Footloose on me and tell me that nudes are morally wrong? What the hell?” I can’t help it. I sit up a bit and cover my girls with my arm as the sheet falls to my lap.
“And, she moved.” Nathan groans, as he rolls his eyes. “Great.”
Carter’s nostrils are flaring as he turns to face Nathan. “Moving is the least of her problems and you just added fifty more by allowing her to do this.” He turns back to me. “Kerry, I admire you. You know that, but you’ve seen how they treat me. None of it’s true, but everyone thinks it is. Reality doesn’t matter here and this isn’t the Renaissance.”
“What are you saying? That I don’t matter?” I can’t believe him. It’s too damn late to not model and if everyone was so opposed to it, why didn’t they tell me before I got here. Instead, they waited until it was too late and said nothing. This isn’t dirty. It’s a classic pose. Carter may mean well, but right now he’s making me feel like I made a horrible mistake, a mistake that’s too far gone to correct. I’m not a porn star, I’m a model.
The words fly from my mouth before I can stop them. They hide the tears and will push him away. I need him to leave. Now. “Fuck, Carter, no wonder why you have no friends.” I shouldn’t have said it. The words pierce through him like arrows, one after the other, until the final blow hits his heart. He turns those dark eyes narrow with shock.
My heart is racing and I want to scream. I want to hug him and hit him at the same time. Carter doesn’t reply. Instead, he picks up his things and packs them away.
Before he walks out the door, he pulls it open and stops. Over his shoulder, he says, “Goodbye Kerry.” He leaves me there like I said nothing. Like I mean nothing. His walls are up and there’s no way he’ll let me in again.
Chapter 11
I call his name, but he doesn’t stop. I keep yelling for him to come back until the door slams shut.
“Are you all right?” Nathan sits at the foot of the couch. He watched the whole exchange between Carter and me in silence and who knows what the hell he and Emily talked about in the hall. I’ve never felt so alone in my life.
I stare blankly ahead. “I’ve just lost two of the three friends I’ve made since I got here—over this. I thought they’d support me. I didn’t expect them to act this way.” We’re quiet for a moment and I add, “I shouldn’t have said that to him.”
“No, but it was a mistake. Kerry, everyone makes mistakes, things that they wish they could take back and do over. The difference isn’t in the mistake, it’s in what you do afterward.” His eyes are on my face, boring into my cheek. I feel so lost, so alone. When I turn to look at Nathan, he’s closer than I thought.
His lips are right there, so close that I can feel his warm breath on mine. His hand is behind me, close enough to touch. Watching his fingers, I’m careful not to look in his eyes, because I couldn’t take it if he says no.
All night he’s been trying not to look my way, avoiding my gaze. The one time our eyes met had this fantastic pull. It’s as if I am his puppet, ready to bend to his will, to do anything he wants. I want him to tell me what he wants, to tell me he wants me. That’s what I was thinking in those moments. Whatever attraction is between us is strong. I’m drawn to it like a stupid bug to a flame. Watching those blue eyes dance with heat, listening to his sultry voice, and hearing him say my name during class was like an aphrodisiac. Being naked up here didn’t feel like that with the rest of them—just him—only Nathan.
My bottom lip is in my mouth as I try to think of what to say, of how to tell him that I can’t be in a relationship right now. I can’t handle it, not on top of everything else. At the same time, I want to be his and I want him to pull my strings and move me any way he wants.
Glancing up at him from under my lashes I open my mouth to speak, but I’m met with his lips instead. His hands cup my face as he pulls me closer, pressing into me at the same time. He breathes my name like it’s life, and presses me back into the couch, kissing me harder, learning the curves of my mouth and the way I taste. The kiss is reckless and passionate. It lights me on fire from within and I can’t pretend I don’t want him. Once he touches me, all my thoughts incinerate leaving the lust, swirling and aching within me.