“Hey, Mom. I can’t talk long. I’m running late for class.” I’d been up late drawing with Xander, and I’d hit the snooze button too many times.
“That’s actually why I was calling, darling.”
I slowed, my heart stilling as my feet suddenly felt weighed down by lead. My mom never called to talk about my classes. Dresses, parties, sure. But school… I was immediately on high alert.
“What about it?” My voice came out unnaturally high.
“I happened to run into Bryan the other day when I was playing tennis. He said that he hadn’t seen you in class lately.”
Blood whooshed through my ears. I spun, sweat prickling at the back of my neck. All the precautions I’d taken, all the lies I’d told, and I’d failed to consider the fact that Bryan was in one of my classes and might say something.
“He was concerned about you, as am I. Such a nice boy,” she said, and I tried not to cringe. He was a complete and utter asshole, but he was good at kissing ass.
“I’m fine. I was just…” I coughed a few times. “I wasn’t feeling well.”
“Do you need to go to the doctor? Or perhaps a steam facial will help? We need you looking your best for the gala.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course,the gala. This wasn’t about me—it was never about me. It was about maintaining appearances, and that reminder assuaged some of my guilt about lying.
“I’ll be fine, Mother,” I ground out, speeding toward the building where my class was about to start. “And now, I really have to go.”
“What about your dress for the gala?” she asked as I bounded up the stairs to the second floor.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m really busy right now. One of my professors selected me for a special assignment.”
True. Or at least, partially true. More a lie of omission.
“Oh, that’s wonderful.” She actually sounded sincerely happy. “Since you’re so busy, I’ll have a few dresses sent to your apartment.”
I wanted to fist-pump the air for successfully avoiding a shopping trip with her, but I clamped my eyes shut instead. “Actually, can you send them to Brie’s? I’ve been staying over since she and her boyfriend broke up.”
But I wasn’t just staying with Brie; I’d moved in with her after Hunter had bought a house. It had been a great way to save money on rent to pay for my art school tuition. That and the commute from my old apartment to LA CAD was horrendous.
“Aww. That’s sweet of you. I know you have to go, but I’m so proud of you.” My chest puffed with pride from her compliment, but then she said, “You’re going to make a wonderful doctor someday. You’re so caring.”
I deflated. I only wished my parents could be as proud of me for my art as they were of the idea that I was going to be a doctor. With a hasty goodbye, I disconnected the call and shuffled into class.
Although I’d been excited about the lecture—as I was with all my coursework now that it wasn’t for premed—I couldn’t focus. My conversation with my mother kept floating back to me. I knew I needed to tell my parents the truth—and soon. The add/drop deadline was looming, but it was more than that. I felt like I was close to cracking under the stress of it. The lies were piling up, and her call today was a reminder that, sooner or later, they were going to find out. I just hoped it was on my terms.
After class, I headed toward the library, feeling marginally better. The simple act of drawing had taken the edge off of the call from my mom. My mind naturally drifted to Xander and the anxiety he currently associated with drawing. My heart ached for him, and I hoped I could help him find the same contentment, enjoyment that I had.
As an artist, I could only imagine how devastating it would be to experience an injury like his. To be denied the ability to draw or paint for months. To wonder if you would ever regain it… It would be like losing a part of yourself—like losing your soul.
But he put so much pressure on himself. And while I could understand why, a bigger part of me wondered what he’d be capable of if he allowed himself to explore.
“You okay?” Brie asked when I joined her at one of the tables.
I flashed her a bright smile. “Yeah. I’m good, just busy.”
“Busy gettin’ busy with Xander,” she teased, knowing I’d been out late the night before and the nights before that.
I glanced around to see if anyone was listening before glaring at her. “Keep your voice down. And no, we did not ‘get busy.’ And we will not.”
Posing for Xander had been different from what I’d expected, especially considering how little time I’d actually spent posing for him. Most of it had been us drawing together, and it had been unlike anything I’d ever created. It was different—drawing with his hand over mine, creating something that was neither just his nor mine. I hadn’t been prepared for the experience, for the intimacy it created. Or for the delicate kisses he’d placed on my neck after.
Even though it had been a few days, my skin still tingled from his kiss. I ran my fingers over the spot, my heart quivering at the memory. I told myself he’d just been caught up in the moment, nothing more. He hadn’t done anything like that in the nights since, even though he seemed intent on touching me in other ways.
“But you did something.” She arched an eyebrow.
