by Dakota Lee
Her eyes widen, her breath catches in her throat. The last time I was the play caller, we toppled the ruling class. The after shocks of that coup d'état extended beyond the campus boundaries. There are families still trying to recover from the shifting power dynamic.
"Fine, I'll be nice."
"Nice isn't something you're good at. I'll take family dinner party cordial." I release her hair. "I know you need your outlet. Go find someone else to actively hate."
"Can I look now?" Jordanna asks for the fifth time.
"No."
"Logan, come on. Where are you taking me?"
"Just a few more steps."
"I've already seen your studio. It's a little late to start with the cloak and dagger routine now. I know the address."
"Ok, one more second." I come back to her and remove the blindfold. "Now!"
She's silent as she looks around the room. "You snuck us into the museum?"
I nod, thrilled to hear the wonder in her voice. "This collection goes on display tomorrow. We're the first to see it. I thought you'd enjoy being able to look, cry, or whatever, without an audience or time limit."
She plops down on the bench in front of us and stares. And though I was kidding, the waterworks start. There's only two things I know to do when a girl cries. Give her a bottle or fuck her. None of those situations apply here. "I hope you're not wasting a perfectly good private viewing by thinking about the asshole ex."
She swipes at her face. "God no, I love this painting. I've always wanted to see it up close, and now I am. I'm sitting here and, it's just so overwhelming. I never thought I would."
So it's a good cry. Okay, I can work with that. Good cries, means gratitude which translates to warm feelings about me. The warmer the better, until eventually she's burning for my touch. Yeah, a few more surprises like this, and I should have her deflowered in time for Halloween. That'll give her all of Thanksgiving break to avoid and hate me, and I'll be back to rejecting Bella's suggestions by spring.
She sits quietly for a few more minutes and then we continue our journey through the rest of the exhibit. I listen as she explains what she thinks about each painting. How the colors make her feel, what she'd change, why she looks for signs of the artist's hopes and dreams in each one. When we come to the one simply titled 'Open', I watch her lips part. It's a series of paintings. The pastel splashes of color mimic a bud of a flower at the beginning of spring and in succession the strokes get bigger and bigger culminating in a hazy shimmer of glittery infused pink, with warming red undertones.
"And what do you think the artist hoped for or dreamed of here?"
"She was floating."
"Why?"
Her voice drops, taking on a melancholy tone. "Love?"
I put my lips against her ear. "Orgasm."
"I see love and you see sex, too bad we can't call the artist and ask which of us is correct."
"Maybe we both are. Maybe she loved the orgasm. I know I do."
She chuckles and follows me to the next room.
We dine at a quiet bistro and continue our discussion about muses. "I think it's just an overwhelming feeling that people get that makes them want to create, and when it's not there, it's like losing a loved one." She says.
"I think it's always there if you open yourself up to it. You just have to be willing to experience everything. Your fears, your hurts, your darkest deepest desires. That's when you get free to be inspired. If you're always looking for perfection, you miss the perfect moments that are found in the middle of the imperfections." She chews on her thumbnail, considering what I've said. "When you embrace everything Jordy, you'll hit a new level in your painting."
"Sounds like you're saying my virginity is holding me back."
"Nope, but your hesitancy to be sexy, even though you’re a virgin might be."
"Sexy virgin. Sounds like a Halloween costume."
"It does, and a hot one, but I was thinking more along the lines of not feeling like it's a badge of shame. So what you're not having sex. That doesn't mean men won't find you sexy. Or that you can't be flirtatious and dress like you're comfortable with your body."
"I think we can both agree that I am not sexy."
"You are. Understatedly so. I can show you how to slut it up if you want."
She gulps her drink too fast and chokes. After a few wheezing breaths, she shakes her head no. "I don't want to slut it up for randos."
"Good. You should never change to please everyone else. But if you want to do it for you, I can help."
"And you think that will help my painting?"
"It couldn't hurt."
She puts her hands in her lap and drops her head as if talking to them. "If I were interested, what would our first lesson be?"
I reach over, lifting her chin to look at me. The first thing men find sexy is a woman who can make eye contact. "I'd take you shopping. Tell you to buy something that makes you feel sexy, and I'd pick out something for you too. Then we'd go somewhere and see how you feel in each one."
"Okay." She says after a long minute.
"Okay, what?" I ask, wanting her to articulate what she's agreeing to. When this thing ends, the only person she'll have to blame for all the things I'm going to do to her body, is herself.
"I agree to try your little shopping experiment."
Chapter Thirty
"Whoa kiddo, what you got there?" Kassidy lowers her book and the volume of the television when I walk through the door.
"I went shopping."
"I can see that. A little retail therapy to get over your breakup. I approve, but will your account survive it?"
I grimace because I tried to buy these things, and Logan wouldn't let me. "They were… You know what, never mind." It's weird and awkward to tell her I let some man I'm barely acquainted with buy me a couple of outfits. I drew the line at lingerie and told him I could buy and pick out my own at a later date.
I show off the purchases before taking them to my room and hanging them in my closet. When I'm done, I flop down on the bed, exhaustion finally settling in. It's been a long week, and I had fun today with Logan, but now that I'm alone in my room again, I stare at my phone, missing Robbie.
Tiffany and Marina have been calling to check on me. They say he's miserable, and that I owe it to him to hear him out after everything we've been through. They're right. He's been there for me through a lot, but I'm not ready to talk to him. Not yet.
I'm in the gym watching the cheerleaders practice while some guys play a pickup game of basketball. Will from my World Culture and Poly-Sci class catches a pass. Drives to the hole and stops at the baseline, sending up a sweet fade-away. He turns and winks at me and I applaud.
It's the game-winning shot, and both teams fought hard for it. He jogs over to me and places his foot on the bleacher, leaning towards me. His taper cut has just a hint of new growth to it and his sideburns extend down to the ghost shadow of his beard. His teeth sparkle against the backdrop of his dark skin. I feel my heart rate kick up slightly. It's been a while since I've been single and I'm nervous about my first foray into flirting.
"I'm really digging the purple streak." I toy with the tips of my hair. It was Kassidy's idea to go to the salon for a cut, and I did the dye job myself. It took me two hours to perfect the color.
"So listen." He says. "I was thinking we could hit up the bowling alley this weekend, and I could show you why they call me pins."
"You mean it's not because you're so tall and lanky. Straight up and down like a pin?"
"Naw, baby. My length makes them call me something else." He winks again and I can't help but laugh at the innuendo. It feels weird to be laughing at this type of joke. I never would've before.
"So is it a date?"
Frankie steps into the gym and Will takes off towards the locker room without waiting for my answer.
Two more guys come up to me, right before Hal and Tabitha step through the door. Both guys take off like they hear their mother calling. When the fourt
h person approaches, I stop him in his tracks. "If you're about to ask me out. I'll say I'm flattered. But don't bother unless you're willing to do it around the beautiful people." I give a pointed look to the people sitting on the other side of the bleachers.
"I was. Shit. I really was planning to ask you out as soon as I heard your weren't with that guy anymore. But we can't."
I turn my gaze back towards Logan's friends. "Because of them?"
"Yeah. That's also why you got stuck with Logan as your partner for the research paper. He wouldn't let anyone else team up with you."
I don't hear anything else after, I got stuck with Logan. Other people wanted to work with me and he manipulated the situation so they couldn't. I shove my sketchbook into my bag and stand, stepping carefully over the shirts, bags, and water bottles at my feet. "I need to go."
Tabitha and Hal exit the building before me. I see them crossing the quad, heading towards the coffee shop. That's where I'm going too, because that's where the BPs like to hang out.
They're all here, Logan sitting in his spot in their booth, like he's holding court. I push past the line of girls waiting for the chance to sit next to him or on him, ignoring their yelps and screeches because I cut the line. "We need to talk."
"I'm busy. Call you later?"
"Can't. I'm busy. I've got four dates lined up and I've given them each an hour to show why they deserve a second one."
He bolts to his feet and on instinct; I step back. His hand ensnares my wrist, and he tugs me across the floor, towards the alcove leading to the back of the cafe, and into a dark corner. "Okay Jordy. You have my attention."
"This won't take long, your highness, I just wanna know why your dukes and duchess are interfering in my life."
"They're not. They're observing, making sure nobody bothers you. I promised the bullying would stop if we became friends, they're enforcing that rule."
"It's called interfering when it's affecting my social life. Don't pretend like you haven't issued an edict that nobody can date me."
"I'm looking out for you. You just got out of a relationship, and you need time. Besides, if a man doesn't have the balls to ask you out because I hinted that they shouldn't, you don't want them, anyway."
"And our partnership for the paper. That was before I broke up with Robbie. Why couldn't they sign up to work with me?"
He shrugs a shoulder, pulling on my purple streak. "You've got one of the highest GPAs at school. My grades matter and I knew you'd pull your weight." He looks up from my hair, raising a brow in question. "We have an 'A' paper. Right?"
He's right. Our collaboration is going well and I'm glad to be working with him, but that doesn't excuse his meddling. "So, to be clear, I'm gonna date whoever I want when I'm ready."
"Okay." He nods in agreement. I head towards the door so he can go back to his friends. "As long as whoever is me."
I come to a screeching halt. "What?"
"If you're dating, you'll be going out with me."
"You're really tryna get that 10 minutes in hell do over, huh?"
Somehow he's managed to crowd me back against the wall, again. "Trust me Jordy, I've gone to school with a lot of these guys, they're no prize." He taps his temple. "Besides, I've got more to offer than a hot body."
I've seen the top half of his hot body. Those ripped muscles and that sexy V of his adonis belt, and I’ve felt what his hands can do to my body. But my mind still stalls when it comes to thinking about what's going on with his lower half. I'm not ready to make that leap with anyone.
"I'm not ready to see anyone new, and even if I were, Logan, you are the absolute last person I'd ever date."
He seems to be fascinated with my purple hair. He tugs it, forcing me to look at him. His eyes blaze when I flinch, and a tingle runs down my spine. "We'll see about that."
Chapter Thirty-One
Tonight, the school's throwing a mixer for some of our biggest donors and parents of potential students. The dean invited Jordanna because having a scholarship student mingle with the reporters covering the event is free PR.
She's wearing one of the dresses I picked out, a strapless number with a sweetheart neckline. The bottom of it reaches mid thigh and those heels. Fuck, she's a vision tonight. She topped the look off with her silky dark hair pressed straight, flowing down her back.
I'm not the only one who notices how good she looks. Sterling Lang III, who's always been an opportunist, walks right up to her and kisses her cheek, placing a possessive arm around her. He's one of Noel's grad school buddies and prowls the edge of the parties, picking off underclassman like a sniper at a carnival. Jordanna seems to be happy on his arm. Smiling and preening at the people he introduces her to.
He's trying to avoid having to interact with me, so I walk up to someone he can't ignore, his father, and engage him in a conversation. Sterling reluctantly makes his way over, introducing her to his father, laying it on thick about her artistic talents.
"I wouldn't go touting her as the second coming of Michelangelo, just yet." I caution. "We don't know if she'll be able to handle painting our class's version of David next week."
Sterling gives her an affectionate smile. "I'm confident she'll do fine."
Bella and Frankie who were hovering nearby walk closer, insinuating themselves in the conversation. Frankie pulls out his billfold. "And my money's on her passing out or running away the moment his robe comes off."
Bella opens her clutch. "Damn, charity, I almost didn't recognize you. I think it's great Kassidy had something you could fit in her closet."
She hands her money to Frankie as if she didn't just insult Jordanna's fashion choices. "Frankie, I'll take that bet." Her purse closes with a click.
"What about you, Logan?" She asks, slipping her arm around mine and looking up at me through her long lashes. "You want in?"
"On whether or not Jordanna passes out her first time seeing a naked man?"
Sterling pulls her away, sparing her from hearing my answer.
The first time I was here, I looked objectively at myself. The second time I was trying to pull myself out of a funk after my breakup with Robbie. Today, I came here to confront Logan about that shitty bet his friends were making at the mixer, and after another lecture about me needing to push past my mental block, I'm trying to convince myself to do something that scares the shit out of me.
I walk over to the photography bench and pick up a camera. Holding it out to him, hoping I can get through just one shot. He wraps his hand around mine and pushes it away.
"How about you take the pictures?"
"Of myself? I already told you that won't work."
He removes his smock and pushes up the sleeves on his sweater. "I meant of me."
Shaking my head, I admit, “I can't do that either.”
"Sure you can. Tell me where you want me. How you want me. And I'll do it."
I'm a photographer. I can totally snap a picture. But of him taking his clothes off? He reads the hesitancy on my face.
"You only have to go as far as you're comfortable with."
I grip the camera and force the next words out. "Take off your shirt."
"Fast or slow?"
"Slowly." My voice is pitched higher than usual, and my hand shakes as I fight to keep my nerves at bay.
I take a deep breath, finding him in the viewfinder. I tell myself not to put the focus on him being shirtless. He's just my subject and I'm searching for the perfect shot. I move around him, pulling in close on the indentation on his back. The smooth swell on his shoulder. Every line, every vein on his arm. I move him across the space, catching him in different shadows and lights.
I point across the room. "Over by the window." I say. He travels the length of the floor and waits. I snap a few photos as he's walking. Catching him in movement like I would an animal in their natural habitat.
"Shift to your right." Now he's bathed in the light from the street lamp. I dim the lights in the studio. Perfect.
&n
bsp; "Angle your body toward the window."
"Like this?"
"Shoulder barely touching."
"Now face the window. You're looking out at something. Right hand against the glass." I widen his stance a little. And slip into the space in front of him. Taking pictures from the floor.
I stand behind him, sliding up his back one click at a time. I prop the camera on his shoulder pushing his head to the side exposing his neck. I'm close enough to see the stubble sprouting on his chin and zoom in on it.
"This is what's beautiful." I whisper to myself. He swallows thickly, and I feel a buzz in the air. I press my thighs together, forcing myself to speak. "I think I've got enough."
I pass him the camera and move towards my bag.
He loads the card on his computer and scrolls through. "These are pretty cool."
"I can go through them another time. But I think. Well, thanks. I can probably look at a man's back without freaking out now."
"I'm glad I could help."
His hand encircles my wrist when I walk by, pulling me toward him. His lips touch mine and just for a second I let myself be kissed. I turn my head before it really gets any traction. "I'm sorry, I. I can't."
"Jordy."
I hurry to the elevator, even though I'm pretty sure he's not following me.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jordanna is sitting on the other side of the lecture hall today. She makes it a point not to be around me after our kiss, as if an audience would ever stop me from trying again. Will and Tobias are sitting next to her, and every few minutes one of them says something to make her laugh. It's like she feels determined to talk to every guy she sees, since she knows that I'm the reason no one would talk to her before.
"You guys couldn't've been more discreet about running those knuckleheads off?"
Hal turns around in his seat. "Sure we could've. But they weren't being so discreet plotting on her. Circling like vultures, ready to pick her newly single carcass apart. They smell her innocence, its common knowledge she's a virgin. That's a temptation that's hard to ignore."