It would at least give me free rein to look at him.
Who said that?
I internally tsked myself. I was no better than these thirsty old birds.
I nodded and went to the extra chair and canvas. I’d taken an introductory class to sketching in college. Like many things,I collected a cursory amount of information until it reached the point where I was smart enough to know just how bad I was.
My focus was on the charcoal moving across the page. I broke his form down into shapes, one piece of him at a time. Soon, I had a sort of human-shaped creature. I would not ogle anymore. But there was an ever-present tension in me, that feeling of being watched that I always carried, was upped tenfold. Sure enough, whenever I flicked a sly gaze to his, I found him looking back at me. What was he thinking as we all looked at his body? Could this really be comfortable for him?
Our eyes clashed again, and the heat of my cheeks made me woozy. I was surrounded by nosey silver-hairs. I wouldn’t make a fool of myself. Or him.
After minutes of trying my best to keep it in my metaphorical pants, Pace shifted and cleared his throat.
“Do you ladies mind if we take five?” Pace asked the others, but was still looking at me.
“Actually, you’re good for the night, sweetie. I think we got what we needed,” Grandma El said.
Everybody encouraged him with gratitude. He stepped off his literal pedestal—as if I hadn’t already set him upon an imaginary one—and grabbed a waiting robe.
“Sophie, can we chat really quick?” he asked me.
I had my lips sucked in, eyeballs focused on the ceiling as I nodded.
The eyes of everybody in the room were still tangible, and I felt desperate to get away before the rumor mill took on extra shifts.
“We can go up to my apartment and talk,” I said.
Because taking the mostly naked man to where my bed was would surely stop any gossip.
“Yeah, cool.” In my periphery, he tugged on the robe, and I let out a breath.
I let my gaze drift back to him, and some of the tension relaxed out of me.
Until I realized the robe was a freaking joke.
The silky-soft fabric stopped at his thighs, the material tugged tight around his biceps, and the gap at the tie revealed his six-pack. I looked up and away. When I looked back again, I swore his muscles were somehow flexed even more.
I forced a look over to Grandma, who gave me a shrug of feigned innocence. The other women had their gazes lingering on his exposed legs. When I cleared my throat and stepped forward to block him from view, they looked away. Only after the fact did I realize that I’d shielded him without thought, even if it put their attention on me. But I’d felt suddenly extremely protective of him. Yes, he volunteered to be a live model, which was, let’s be honest, very on brand, but still. He wasn’t a piece of meat.
He grabbed his fireman tote and followed me as I spun on my heels and headed up to my apartment.
“Doesit bother you to be looked at like that?” I asked as we trudged up the back stairs to my place.
I went first because I could only imagine all thenooks and cranniesI’d be seeing if he walked ahead of me up the stairs in that robe.
“Nah. They’re harmless.”
I shuddered. “The thought of being the actual center of everyone’s attention, knowing that they are seeking out every flaw or imperfection ...”
“Or maybe they are just looking at it objectively. Or thinking nice things? I’m not ashamed of my body.”
“Well, duh. You are a perfect specimen.”
There was a beat of silence, and I was glad he couldn’t see my face after that blurted compliment.
“Remember my feet? I think you think that just because I have muscles, I’m perfect—” I started to object, but he went on, “This isn’t—I’m just trying to say, maybe people aren’t judging and are simply observing, and even if they are judging, okay, oh well. It has zero impact on me either way.”
I frowned at his point. Did he really not care? Was that a man thing or a Pace thing? I couldn’t even pretend to fake not caring.
