“Are you kidding me?” I gaped at him. “Do you own a mirror?”
He chuckled and his cheeks pinked a little.
“Every girl in the class has a crush on you and is thanking God, the Goddess, and probably Vishnu for Driscoll’s poor choice of footwear.”
He held up his hands in defense. “Okay, I get it. Thank you.”
“No problem. Can I ask you one more thing?”
“Sure. As long as it doesn’t cross our new professor-student diplomacy line.”
“What are you doing in April?”
His head jerked back a little in surprise. “That’s over a month from now. Probably spending it at UW doing research for my dissertation. Why?”
My hand wrapped around the door handle. “You said you thought I was pretty. And after March, you won’t be my professor anymore.”
His laughter followed me down the quiet hall. I resisted skipping like a promiscuous Red Riding Hood who wanted to do naughty things with the wolf.
I may have lost this battle, but I hadn’t surrendered the war.
“The Perfect Girl” ~ The Cure
“REMIND ME AGAIN why I’m here?” Gil shifted on the floor, angling his legs to the left of Maggie.
“Experiencing new things?” I pulled out my drawing pad, pastels, charcoal, and several pencils.
“I wonder how much the models get paid?” Quinn stole one of my pencils, then taped several pieces of paper to his oversized masonite clipboard.
“I hope a lot.” Maggie crossed her legs. “Imagine standing there while a bunch of people draw you naked.”
“Would you do it?” Gil sounded interested in the idea of naked Maggie.
I swore the two of them were going to get together on our road trip last year before Quinn turned all chaperone and shut them down. Maybe she was over him, because of the whole roommate thing, but I didn’t think he was over her. He sat next to her whenever possible and watched her every move.
“No way!” Her blush extended down her neck.
“I’d do it,” Quinn replied, even though the question wasn’t asked of him.
“No one doubts you would, Q.” I settled myself and got ready for the session to begin.
A portly man in a blue terrycloth bathrobe entered the large room, walked to the center, and dropped his robe.
“Okay, one minute poses. Ready?” Tina, our hostess for this life drawing class at the art center, asked the group.
“I can’t even see his dick,” Quinn complained next to me.
“Are you seriously complaining about that?” My pastel flew over the page, outlining curves and more curves.
After a minute, Tina called for a new pose.
“Oh, there it is!”
“Quinn,” I muttered. “This isn’t a game of I Spy. You don’t win a prize.”
Tina called time again and the model shifted into a new pose.
“It’s more like hide and sneak.” Quinn gestured with his charcoal. “Now you see it, now you don’t.”
Maggie giggled and ducked her face behind her hair.
“Settle down you two. This is serious.” I refused to give into their immaturity.
Our model leaned back over his chair in a pose straight out of Flashdance.
“Oh, come on.” Gil put down his pencil.
Directly in front of us, we had a view of everything. Every little thing.
“Nope. I’m out of here.” Standing, Gil gathered his stuff.
“I’m with you.” Maggie pushed herself up off the floor.
“Shh,” Tina shushed from across the room. “Please wait until we break to leave.”
Trapped, Gil and Maggie shuffled around people to stand against the closest wall.
Another pose change and I nearly dropped my pencil.
“Is that an open sore?” Quinn leaned forward.
My morning coffee threatened a return. “Focus on his face for this one.”
I didn’t want to quit.
I wanted to be the cool girl who drew nudes and was all about the beauty of the human form, no matter the shape or size. But if I were being honest with myself, I signed up for the class hoping the model would be male and hot. Or even a hot woman.
“I think he has a cold sore, too.” Quinn squinted, his pencil hovering over a detailed sketch of a lower face. He had talent. “I’m adding a cold sore.”
When Tina called for a break, I admitted defeat. “I think I’ve had enough.”
Gil and Maggie waved from the door.
“Let’s go for brunch instead.” I gathered up my things. I tried. I really did. I gave myself permission to give up. I’d had the experience and could check it off my list.
Quinn remained seated. “I’m going to stay.”
“Whatever floats your boat, Q.”
At an old diner near the waterfront, Gil deconstructed his experience in class. He sounded like a vet returning from war.
“I know, we were all there, too.” Maggie poured a lake of syrup on her pancakes.
“I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t him.” He stuffed a big bite of home fries in his mouth.
“I’m guessing you were thinking the model would be a naked woman.” I stabbed one of his potatoes with my fork. “Young, hot, and naked.”
His shrug told me he didn’t deny it.
“Typical.” Maggie sighed.
“I’m not going to apologize for liking naked women. I’m a healthy, all-American boy. It’s in my DNA.”
“He wasn’t who I expected, either.” Maggie swirled her bacon through the pool of syrup. “I wonder why he signed up for nude modeling.”
“Exhibitionist,” I guessed.
“Money. The reason anyone does anything.”
“You sound so cynical, Gil.”
“Maybe the plasma clinic was closed.” Gil stuffed eggs in his mouth.
“Speaking of clinics, did you see—”
Gil cut me off. “I’m eating here!”
“He should get examined. That’s all I’m saying.” I pushed a huckleberry around on my plate.
“Hey, isn’t Professor Vincent sitting at the counter?” Maggie pointed behind me.
My head spun around faster than The Exorcist girl’s did in the movie.
Jason sat at the counter reading the newspaper. Apparently alone.
“I’ll be right back.”
I sat on the empty stool next to him. “Morning, Professor.”
His face appeared from around the paper. “Ah, Miss Elmore.”
“What brings you to Olympia this fine Saturday morning?” I swiveled back and forth on my seat.
“The girlfriend of one of my roommates is in town for the weekend. I’m giving them some privacy.”
“You have roommates?” This fact surprised me.
“Two of them. Poor grad students, remember?”
“The sex professor is hiding out in Olympia to avoid all the sex going on in his own apartment?”
“He is. Plus, I need to grade your quizzes, which I left in the office last week.”
“Distracted?”
“A little.” He gave me a secret smile from behind his paper before folding it and resting it on the counter. “What about you?”
“Distracted?”
“No. What are you doing today?”
“We ditched a life drawing drop-in at the art center.”
“Life drawing as in . . .” He left me an opening, not wanting or willing to say the word.
“Naked. Life drawing is drawing naked people. Well, really only one naked guy. One really big, really naked guy.” I scrunched up my nose.
“Is this part of your degree?” I noticed how long his lashes were as he stared at me.
“I guess.”
“Or you wanted to look at naked men on a Saturday morning?” He rolled his lips together.
“There are better places to see naked men on Saturday mornings.” I met his eyes, unabashedly.
He studied the sugar shaker near the metal nap
kin dispenser. “I’m going to ignore that comment.”
My lips curved into an evil grin. Something about seeing him uncomfortable made me happy. He marked himself as forbidden fruit, which only made me desire him more. “What brings you to this fine establishment?”
“The excellent coffee?” He picked up his nearly empty cup.
I frowned. “The coffee tastes like bilge-water with fake creamer.”
“At least they have free refills.”
“If you want good coffee, go to the Heron Bakery. Excellent bread, too.”
“Are you on their payroll?”
“Me? Bake? Or serve people?” I stared at him in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”
“You don’t seem the type.” He laughed before finishing his coffee. “Your friends are watching us.”
I realized I’d completely invaded his personal space as we talked. He’d turned his stool and his legs framed mine. We leaned close to each other.
I jumped off my stool and practically landed on his lap.
“Guess that’s my cue to leave. Bye, Professor.” I walked backward away from him, taking in his amused expression.
“Good-bye, Miss Elmore.”
I’d hated the formality of him using my last name, but now that we had a wall of propriety between us, I liked it. It felt like an inside joke. Plus, he hadn’t said no to seeing me after the quarter ended. March was only a few days away.
“Principles of Lust” ~ Enigma
INSIDE MY ORGANIZER with the cats on the cover, I crossed off another day with a red X. Only one more week until the quarter ended and Jason Vincent would no longer be my professor.
I flipped back to the beginning of my planner. There in all its permanent black ink glory was the goal I’d set for myself: seduce Jason Vincent.
I said a prayer of thanks to whatever saint or deity created academic quarters instead of semesters. Ten weeks of torture beat months of waiting.
Spring break followed the end of the quarter. Gil had plans to go skiing at home in Colorado. Quinn talked about another road trip. Lizzy wanted to go someplace sunny and warm. San Diego or Arizona—it didn’t matter as long as wherever they went a bright ball of sunshine illuminated the sky. Maggie agreed, and the three of them started plotting their route to sun.
I was on the fence about joining them. Jason hadn’t given me a sign the truce would start immediately after he turned in grades. I’d taken his silence as agreement and worried I’d been wrong.
Returning from a long, hot shower, I padded down the hall in my flip-flops and robe, my hair wrapped in a towel. As I got closer to our room, I could hear the phone ringing inside. Our answering machine had stopped working two weeks ago. It probably needed a new mini-cassette, but with finals, we hadn’t bothered to get one. Our bulletin board outside the door had become an ink and paper answering machine like in the dark ages of telegrams and carrier pigeons.
I dropped my caddy trying to get the key in the door. Then slid out of my wet flip-flops, nearly tripping as I lunged for the phone. The cord tangled around the base and I dropped the whole thing.
“Hello?” a male voice echoed from the receiver on the floor.
“Hello?” My voice took on a breathless quality after the effort of simply answering the call.
“Hi, I’m calling for Selah.” The voice sounded familiar, but remained a mystery.
I lifted the phone off the floor, untangling the curled cord. “This is me.”
“Hi, it’s Jason.”
He hadn’t lost my number. He kept my little scrap of paper for weeks.
“How’d you get this number?” I wanted him to say it. I needed confirmation.
“You gave it to me. Then I lost it. Luckily, being faculty allowed me access to your contact information.”
He’d looked up my number. Even better. I did a Bender at the end of The Breakfast Club style fist pump.
“Hello?”
I’d forgotten to speak.
“I’m still here.”
“I turned in my grades this afternoon. You passed.”
“Thanks for letting me know. Most of my professors don’t call me personally. I appreciate the extra step.”
“That’s not why I called.”
Twisting the cord around my finger, I waited for him to speak again.
“Do you have plans tonight?”
I contemplated ditching my friends. “I do.”
He didn’t respond, but I could hear him breathing.
“Quinn’s been planning a seventies style disco party for ages to celebrate his birthday and spring break. It’s in the dorm, otherwise I’d invite you.”
“Oh. Thanks. Okay.”
“Another time?” I crossed my fingers even though he couldn’t see me.
“Maybe we could meet up at the Four Leaf Clover after?” He sounded exactly like a man trying not to sound simultaneously eager and disappointed.
“Are you suggesting for me to break the law?”
“I suspect this won’t be the only time you’ve returned to that fine establishment.”
He was right. We went there weekly, sometimes twice. “What time?”
“I’ll be there after eleven.” His confidence returned.
“I’ll be the one in the Mrs. Roper style muumuu.”
“Sounds oddly sexy.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m looking forward to seeing you.”
After saying good-bye and waiting for the dial tone, I hung up and did a small shimmy. On my bed. While jumping up and down. Screaming.
Donna Summer blasted from Quinn and Gil’s room. No way the RAs didn’t know about the party, but they hadn’t cared enough to break it up. Friday night before spring break meant they were probably gone or at their own party.
A trip to the local Salvation Army had reaped many fabulous outfits made of highly flammable polyester and its cousin, rayon. My muumuu had a cornucopia of flowers on it in dazzling day-glo colors. Gil sported a light blue leisure suit and neck scarf. Maggie wore a flowy dress in lilac—a seventies bridesmaid dress at the ugliest wedding ever. The color made her skin glow against her red hair. Lizzy’s micro mini barely passed her ass, but white tights covered her indecency.
Quinn looked like a disco ball in his sparkly, open-collared shirt and shiny silver bell bottoms. Round rose-tinted sunglasses partially hid his blue eyes.
I think Ben dressed as Bob Ross. His curly hair looked extra poofy above his denim suit. Yes, he wore a denim blazer and matching slacks. Leave it to Alex P. Keaton to find a denim suit.
All together, we looked like a bad mashup of seventies television shows.
“I can’t believe anyone ever thought these clothes were cool.” Gil ran his hand over the rough texture on his arm.
“Are you kidding? This is the best invention ever.” I spun around. “If it had pockets, I’d live in these things. Stylish, yet airy and breathable.”
“There’s nothing breathable about these pants.” Quinn’s bell bottoms were the tightest fitting, leave-nothing-to-the-imagination man pants I’d ever seen.
“I’ve never understood guys and their need to let their penises breathe?” I used air-quotes to demonstrate my doubt. “Your lungs aren’t attached to your genitals.”
“It’s more about containment and the ability for things to, um . . .” Gil paused.
“Listen, things move around and need their space,” Ben explained for him.
“Didn’t you learn this stuff in your biology class?” Quinn asked.
“She was too busy flirting with our professor.” Maggie nudged me.
Quinn made a face. “Old Driscoll?”
“No, the hot, super young grad student who subbed for him. Where have you been?” I set him straight. Figuratively of course.
“Super hot, young grad student? And you didn’t share?” Quinn mock glared at me.
I contemplated telling them about my plans after the party. I needed to get them to the bar, but didn’t want the teasing that would ensue f
or the next couple of hours in between now and then.
“He’s on our team, Quinn. Sorry.”
“How do you know?” He raised his eyebrow at me.
Maggie huffed. “It may have been a biology class, but there was a lot of chemistry. All of it aimed at Selah.”
Really? “There was?”
“You were too busy trying to play coy to catch him staring at you.”
Hmm, news to me. I didn’t think I could play coy.
Before everyone got too drunk for the second act of the night, I made my suggestion. They all agreed, with the caveat we kept our costumes on.
“We’ll match the interior.”
“It’s not Halloween, Quinn.” I really didn’t need to show up wearing a muumuu. I was ninety-nine-point-nine-percent sure Jason had been joking about finding Mrs. Roper in any way hot, but I guess I would find out.
Fellow students as well as townies packed the bar. We definitely stood out like flamingos in our brightly colored polyester among all the jeans and plaid.
The booths were full and tables overcrowded. I scanned the room for Jason, but couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead of us through the crowd. Being short sucked in these situations. My current view consisted mostly of Gil’s back and the buttons of some random guy’s flannel.
The crowd waiting at the bar counted five people deep around the stools. Dehydration while waiting for our drinks became a real probability. Sighing, I resigned myself I’d never find Jason.
A warm hand grabbed my wrist and then long fingers interwove with mine. I glanced around at my friends—all hands were accounted for. The fingers tugged me backward, into flannel guy.
I caught my balance and twisted to see Jason smiling at me over his shoulder as he pulled me through the crowd.
Before I could question where he was taking me, he shouldered the backdoor open into a dim alley. He spun me around and pushed me against the cold bricks of the building.
“I’ve been thinking about your mouth from the first day of class.”
I gasped and his lips crashed into mine. Not hesitant. Not asking for permission. Claiming. Demanding. Owning.
His hands framed my face, angling it to go deeper. This wasn’t bumbling exploration like high school. He used his tongue as a weapon to conquer me.
We Were Here: A New Adult Romance Prequel to Geoducks Are for Lovers (Modern Love Stories Book 1) Page 7