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Chapter One
Rory
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“Idon’t know aboutyou, but I am seriously looking forward to this assignment.” My best friend Alina bounces on her toes next to me.
“You would be excited.” I blow out a puff of air, giving her a knowing look as we head out onto the quad, which is bustling with students all clamoring to enjoy the beautiful weather.
“So would you if you were normal,” she quips, knocking her hip into mine.
“Some might argue that Iamthe normal one.” I watch her plop down onto an empty space of grass, not at all concerned with her pale pink shorts or what they might look like when she gets up.
“Look around, dear Rory.” She gestures around at nothing in particular. “I think you might be the only person on campus who would balk at the chance to get to sketch one of those...” Her full lips split into a seductive smile when a couple of football players walk past us, no doubt on their way to practice, given the looks of them. She watches them long after they’ve passed us, licking her lips for dramatic effect. “Oh yes, I am definitely looking forward to this.” Her eyes finally come back to me. “Sit down, for fuck’s sake. You look ridiculous just standing there.”
“Shut up,” I grumble, lowering my bookbag to the ground before taking a seat next to it, crossing my legs like a pretzel in front of me. “And it’s not just that we have to sketch them. I could sketch someone in a couple of hours. It’s that we have to do an entire portfolio. That will take more hours than I think I can stomach. And why is it that we have to draw them live? Why can’t we simply recreate them from photographs? Seems a waste of time for everyone involved if you ask me.” I turn my nose up at the thought.
“You know it’s not the same thing. Besides, how are you supposed to ask questions to a photograph or get to know someone better by staring at their picture?”
She’s got me there, considering the bulk of the assignment is not just sketching your subject, but getting to know them along the way to see how your perception of them changes and how that impacts the way they come across the page.
“Shut up.” I hate when she’s right.
“While I know you’d much rather have your nose in a book, sketching your next brilliant design, some of us actually enjoy drawing and painting the world around us and the people in it.”
“You’re referring to the people who got an Art degree because it was the easiest way to appease their parents by going to college,” I fire at her unnecessarily.
This isn’t Alina’s fault. The assignment is what the assignment is, but as someone who’s a bit of an introvert, the whole thing makes me incredibly nervous.
“I’m going to pretend like you didn’t say that and forgive you because I know what a spaz you can be. You do realize if you land an internship at your precious Laboe, you are going to have to actually talk to people.”
“Of course I know that.”
I can’t explain to her how it’s different. She wouldn’t understand. She’s never had the dream of working somewhere the way I have about working for Laboe, home to some of the most prestigious clothing designers in the world. It’s the reason I moved to California in the first place. And while yes, New York was also an option, something about living on the West Coast called to me. I knew this was where I needed to be.
“Then look at this as practice,” she suggests.
“Practice for what? Dealing with assholes?”
“Precisely.” She nods matter-of-factly, a grin slipping across her mouth. “You know what I think your problem is...”
“If you say that I need a good lay, I’m going to get up and leave right now,” I warn, giving her a pointed glare.
Her eyes narrow into slits, her nose crinkling as she stares back at me.
Alina is beautiful in a very bold and in your face kind of way. Long, dark hair, light brown skin—the perfect mixture of her parents—and the biggest blue eyes you’ll ever see. She’s stunning in a way that can’t be denied, especially when she smiles the way she’s smiling at me right now.
“If the shoe fits,” she finally says.
“Not everything boils down to sex. You realize this, yes?”
“You only say that because you’ve never been with someone who knows what they’re doing.” She quickly continues before I can object. “I’m sure what you had with Conner was great, but let’s be real—two teenagers with no experience, fooling around in the back seat of a car, isn’t exactly a recipe for having your mind blown.”
“We had sex in more than just the back seat of a car, thank you very much.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I must have completely forgotten about the tent he set up in his daddy’s bean field so you two could sneak out at night and have somewhere to get your rocks off.”
“If I had known you would turn my past into ammunition, I never would have told you about it.” I huff.
