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CHAPTER 2
Holy Hell, that was insane. Carter seems appeased for the moment, and what he wants is out there in the open. At one time, such an honest declaration of intentions would have made my panties drop to my ankles in a lead-like thump. But now? Not so much.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe I have supersized PMS, and I won’t feel better until I scream my head off and punch something. I kick off my sweats and get naked behind the makeshift screen (which is actually a hugeass supply cabinet) in the back of the classroom. Carter is waiting in his seat, and the door is open.
I hear Nate pad into the room. He clears his throat and speaks softly. I peak around the corner of the cabinet and see Nate and Carter talking. I get the impression they know each other—like beyond the classroom. It’s just a sense, and there’s no evidence to support it. I pause, listening. Too bad I can’t hear anything.
I call out, “I need the drape.”
Nate turns, and, when his eyes sweep over my face, I know there are more words there—things unsaid, regret, and something more. He nods, no longer urging me to quit. Crossing the room, he opens one of the many cabinets lining the far wall and pulls out the same drape as last week. He carries it across the open space and hands it to me. “Here.”
I take it with both hands and wrap the fabric over my shoulders, before stepping out into the room. I probably shouldn’t ask him for help, but it’s either taunt Carter with my nakedness or ask the man who’s already seen my ass to help me cover it.
“You’re frowning. What’s wrong?” Nate asks softly. His hair falls over his forehead as his gaze sweeps the set he recreated from last time. He must have set it up before Carter and I arrived tonight. Nate steps forward, moves the chaise slightly, then steps back.
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“I need help with the drape.”
He stops tipping his head at the little set and glances at me. “Right, of course. Please sit and I’ll move it into position.”
This moment is the definition of awkward. Carter is watching us intently while Nate tries not to touch me at all. It’s like I’m carrying a pox, and he’s afraid he'll catch it. Stop thinking. This is shadows and light. He isn’t thinking about anything else—like parting my thighs and lying on top of me. The memory of Nate’s strong hands on my hips flashes through my mind and fades like a shooting star. Move on, Kerry. That part of your screwed up life is gone.
At least I think it is, but the way Nate is looking at me right now, coupled with that kiss in his office has me wondering if he changed his mind. Maybe he wants a fuckbuddy after all? The thing about one-nighters and me—I kind of wish they lasted longer than one night.
I carefully arrange myself on the chaise and adjust the drape so that it still covers me as I slide down sideways onto my hip. When I position my arms to their previous placement, the drape drops and pools at my hips. There’s a little side-boob showing, but nothing else.
Nate grabs the edge and pulls. The fabric slips away, chilling me as it goes.
“Kerry,” Carter calls out, “your legs are in the wrong position. Last time, the top one was extended.”
“Right.” I feel the blush on my cheeks and am glad I’m facing in the other direction. I shift my legs and inadvertently pull the fabric as I move.
Nate moves back to the foot of the chaise, and rearranges the material, pooling the fabric into a waterfall of folds.
“Sorry.”
Nate glances up at me, and I can tell he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he tweaks the rest of the set and adjusts the lights.
Students begin filing in and grabbing their sketches from last time. Emily walks by without a word. I think she’s still pissed at me. I consider jumping up and giving her a big bear hug, but I think that would make things worse.
With all the students settled, Nate starts teaching like he did last week. He stands in front of me, but I can still see him out of the corner of my eye.
Nate explains, “The S-curve in this pose is important. See the way her back, hips, and shoulders curve almost like the letter S? When choosing a pose, this curve is fundamental. The easiest way to arrange the pose is to have the model put all her weight on one leg. It naturally throws out the hip helping define that curve. In this case, our model is seated. It would be very easy to make her waist appear blockish. To avoid that, she has one knee pulled up—” he points to the pad of my foot that’s poking out from under the knee of my top leg, “and the other leg extended. It tilts her hips in the right direction so that when she places an arm on the back of the chaise and pivots at the waist to look at her feet—Miss Hill, would you be so kind?”
I do as he asks and stare at my toes. My lashes are lowered and my expression pensive. I've often wondered what models think about while posing. If they are excited to be in front of people or worried about looking fat? Now that I’m up here, I can tell you—we think about everything.
Did I turn off the iron?
Chelsey is a jerk. I need to do something with that.
Pringles sound really good. I’m going to eat an entire can for dinner.
I’ll have to walk to the quad to get it.
I’m sick of letting people walk all over me.
That leads my thoughts to Mom. How am I supposed to be okay with her and Matt when it’s clearly not okay? She gave birth to me. I should get over it. At the same time, she could give birth to a sibling and then Matt could be my stepdad. Fuck that. I’m not on board.
