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King’s jaw tightened. “It’s Maverick, isn’t it?”
I hadn’t planned to tell him who.Was it that obvious?He already thought Maverick was jealous, and now here we are. I hated myself for giving in to Maverick, but there was no other choice.
I couldn’t ignore the pull. I didn’t think settling at such a young age—with the first boy who showed me attention—was a good idea.I’m young and I want to be free—with Maverick.
“I just don’t want to get serious,” I mumbled.
So, lame.
King sat up and looked at me with a pleading stare. “Josie, what have I done to make you think that? Tell me, is it Booker? Did he do something to you? Is he forcing you—,”
“No, King—,”
“Then tell me, what is it?” he demanded. A few classmates looked over, and my ears burned with embarrassment.
“King, we’ve only been out a few times, I don’t think this is about us not going out, plus, you can get any girl. This is about Maverick—,"
“Damn right,” he hissed. “That dude has serious problems. He couldn’t stand to see us together, and now you’re screwing him.”
I ground my teeth. “I’m not sleeping with him, King—,”
“Just forget it,” he said, standing up and walking toward the other side of the room.
God what a baby.Thankfully, Mrs. Chapman walked in and started class before I could get any more aggravated. Even though I felt his stare on the side of my face during class, I couldn’t let it bother me.
My classes flew by, and I found myself standing in front of Professor Howard’s door with clammy hands. When he reached out to me about my piece, I was shocked. I didn’t realize he’d been there or noticed.
I knocked a couple of times and waited patiently for him to call me inside. Books and paperwork crammed his office space. The smell of coffee wafted from a small pot on the counter behind him as I walked inside.
He looked—different from what I imagined. Younger. Handsome almost. His perfectly quaffed hair looked gelled by a stylist, and his dark eyes set back underneath a heavy brow.
“Ms. Lee, I presume?” he asked, standing to offer me his hand.
I walked over and took it, secretly giving him a once-over. His button-down was rolled up to his elbows with coiled forearms and a pinch of chest hair peeking from the unbuttoned top.
Get a grip, Josie. He’s old enough to be your dad.But that didn’t change the erratic beat of my heart.
“I’m so glad you could stop by,” he said. “Congratulations on your win at the art contest. Your piece is amazing.”
“Thank you.”
He studied my face for a few moments. “The reason I had you come into my office is because I’m looking for an assistant this semester. I normally hold my own contest and judge by talent and knowledge—but when I saw your graffiti piece, I knew I needed you. We don’t have a lot of students that use graffiti art, but you ma’am,” he said with a smile, “are talented.”
My mouth dried at the compliment. My mother’s words raced around in my head.It wasn’t useful to waste time on hobbies. But I loved it. I cleared my throat. “How much time would this take?”
He sat back. “I teach a class every weekend at the local art gallery, and I’d let you go with me to any exhibition for experience. Mostly, I’d need you to help me with the freestyle class on Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons. Is that something you could do?”
I chewed my bottom lip. “I work as a tutor in the writing center until five most days, I have to pay for my apartment. When is your class?”
“I’ve already looked at your schedule, it’ll be tight, but you can make it by five thirty, and it’s only an hour. It’ll look great on any resume.”
Pushing myself too much during the first semester might tire me out, but the thought of getting to attend exhibitions sounded amazing. “Okay,” I said. “When can I start?”
He chuckled and shuffled some papers around on his desk. “Next week. I’ll need you to fill this out with your information so that I can get in contact with you daily. You can send it to my email which is here,” he said scribbling it down on the top of the paper, “and email it over sometime this weekend.”
“Thank you.”
Professor Howard smiled and his perfect set of teeth beamed commercially. “You’re welcome, Josie. I’m glad to have you onboard.”
