Page 8 of On Your Knees

When it’s clear that I’m not going to respond, Ethan says, “These would be nudes.”

That doesn’t hit me like maybe it should. I’m still stuck on the number. I do need the money, but that number is so far outside my comprehension for a week of work that I simply can’t process it.

Ethan adds, “But I don’t display or share my work, and the NDA we’d sign would protect you too. No one would see the images but us.”

Us. My skin prickles at the word, like a hand brushes lightly over it.

“Do you know what an NDA is?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“It stands for nondisclosure agreement. It’s a legally binding document that would prohibit you from discussing or recording our work in any way, and it would prohibit me from sharing it without your consent. My artwork is personal only.”

My mind starts catching up. “So I’d be posing. And you’d draw me.”

“Yes.”

“And I’d be…”

“Nude,” he confirms when I can’t seem to say the word. “Does that make you nervous?”

“I’ve never done anything like that,” I reply, not really answering his question. I can’t imagine it enough to have a real feeling about it. I’m more stuck on the fact that he wants me, me specifically, to do this. “Are you being serious? Like, really?”

“Levi.”

I can’t see Ethan’s face fully in the car’s dim interior, but light from the street limns the edge of his strong jaw.

He says, “I’m being entirely serious. And it’s fine that it’s new. That’s part of what I want to capture. I want your expressions and responses. I want your honesty. I want you.”

My scalp prickles. My body feels strange. I don’t know how to understand something like that. I don’t know how to respond. “I… can I have a second to think?”

“Of course.”

I stare out the window, letting my vision blur as the buildings roll by. I’m supposed to be thinking, but I find that I can’t. My mind is too full but also, somehow, utterly blank.

We travel in silence, and the ride ends up being too short in the light, late-night traffic. The car stops in front of my building. Ethan gets out. I’m slow, so I’m still fumbling with my door when he opens it for me.

I know I’m supposed to say something, to answer, but my mind is still blank as I climb out to stand beside him.

Ethan says, “Tomorrow at four p.m., my driver, Patrick, will be here with this car. He’ll wait for fifteen minutes.”

I nod mutely.

“Go to bed, Levi. You’ve had a long night.”

Numbly, I get moving. I climb the steps to my building’s front door. As I open it, I look back. Ethan is still standing on the sidewalk in his tux, watching me.

He’s dangerous.

It’s the first clear thought that forms in the haze of my mind. With goosebumps all over my body, I go inside.

FOUR

Ethan

At my kitchen island, I track the car’s progress on the map. I imagine Levi in the backseat, sandy hair slicked back, his hands in his jacket pockets. He’s silent. Nervous. He’s wondering if he’s made a bad decision, but at the same time he doesn’t quite believe this is real.

I go to my message thread with Patrick. For the hundredth time, my thumbs hover over the screen. What is he wearing? What is he doing? What has he said?