Shifting the Night Away (21 page)

Chapter Five

The Next Day

I barely had time to process my thoughts about sleeping with a stranger for the first time in my life. Before I knew it, the sun had come up, my alarm was going off, and it was time to get ready for morning classes.

Standing in front of the mirror, I zoned out as I styled my bangs and put my makeup on slowly and deliberately. It felt strange to have slept with someone like Riker and knew I’d likely never see him again. I couldn’t help but wish that I could have a repeat of last night—which was part of the problem with one-night stands for me.
At least I won’t be tortured by his face everywhere I look. It’s just one night. One memory.

I applied bronzer to my pale skin, lined my eyes with black eyeliner, and ran argan oil through my dark brown hair. Then I stepped back, looking at my reflection.

“Not bad,” I murmured to myself, straightening out my wrap top. It never hurt to look good at art school. “I might even show up the fashion major girls.”

My first class was one I’d looked forward to all summer: my first life drawing course. Up until now, all I’d gotten to draw was still life and landscapes. Today, for the first time, we’d have live models posing for us and we’d get to draw them—nude, of course.
I hope we get to start right away. I’d hate to spend the first class going over the syllabus and supplies.

The supplies I needed for class were heavy, including the large portfolio and a whole case of pencils and charcoal. It was worth it, though—I’d wanted to be an artist for years, and this was my chance to study what I loved. I was only able to do it because of a scholarship fund and trust set up for me by my grandfather, who’d invested wisely years ago. But I had to make these years count if I wanted to succeed as an artist in the real world. It wasn’t an easy profession.

With the portfolio strapped over my shoulder and my supplies swinging over one hand, I set off from my dorm to the arts and drama building, determined to make a good start of my junior year at Belmont College of Arts and Humanities.

He was an ass. He saw you, got you drunk, got in your pants. Don’t let him park in your mind.
I concentrated my focus outward as I walked into the fine arts building, taking note of the new drawings on the wall. Every semester they took down the vast majority of the student artwork hung on the walls and replaced it with more recent—or just better—stuff. The names on the walls were the other students I was competing with; they were in places where I could see myself. I’d taken enough history, English, science, and math credits. It was time to make my mark.

By the spring semester I would be up on those walls. I was absolutely determined.

My life drawing class was in room 1F—down the hallway and on the right. I hesitated briefly before the open doors, then pushed through my nervousness and stepped inside.

About half the easels were taken already, including the choice ones closest to the live model stand.
Great, I should’ve gotten up earlier,
I thought as I picked an easel in the middle of the room.
It looks like we’ll be jumping right into things.

There was no sign of the professor in the classroom, but the easels were a clear message: we’d be getting down to business today, nude model and all.

“Are you nervous?”

I turned to the girl next to me, whose bright brown eyes were wide with anticipation. She had that comfortable artist look about her, from the bright graphic tee she wore to the purple streak in her curly afro. “Nervous about what?”

“The person being… naked and all that.” She laughed uncomfortably.

I shrugged. “Just think of it like another still life or something. I mean, how bad can it be? Just some stranger. And all the great artists work with live models at some point.”

“I guess that’s true.” She fiddled with her pencils, which she’d laid out on the easel tray. “I’m Kayla, by the way.”

“Mara,” I said, reaching down to pull out my Masonite board and place it on the easel. “Nice to meet you. And don’t worry, I’m sure—”

I stopped suddenly, taken back by something I saw. My breath seemed to come out short, and I felt myself freeze.

“What? What is it?” Kayla’s voice was a distant sound, beyond the whooshing in my ears.

Because
he’d
just walked through the door. That asshole with the smart mouth. The guy with no manners.

My one-night stand.

Chapter Six

Over Your Shoulder

Quickly, I turned my head away from the door and let my hair fall forward over my face, hoping Riker wouldn’t recognize me.
How the hell is he here? Is he a student or something? That’d be just my luck.

But he didn’t take a seat at one of the easels. Instead he sat up front—not at the desk, but the chair next to it. Frantically, I tried to recall the professor’s name for this class.
Ann Hickory.
So there was no way he was the teacher. What, then, was he doing here?

His eyes scanned the classroom, so I looked away, heart pounding.

“Is something wrong?” Kayla asked, her voice too loud for comfort. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I opened my mouth, scrambling for a logical explanation for my reaction, when the professor walked into the room.
Thank god.

“Good morning, everyone. Good to see you’re all here… for the most part.” She took note of the three empty easels as she shut the door behind her. “As they say, the early bird gets the worm, or in this case the best spot in the class. I’ll take role before break—first, I want to introduce myself.”

I briefly glanced towards Riker, only to jump when our eyes met. He stared at me steadily, seemingly unbothered by the fact that I was sitting in the same room as him—almost like he’d expected me. Swallowing, I jerked my eyes back to the professor, determined not to pay him any mind—even though I could feel the heat rising up my neck and towards my cheeks.

“My name is Ann Hickory,” the professor continued, her voice projecting throughout the room. “I studied art at Columbia, lived in London for a few years, then Paris for a few more. I’ve had exhibits at a few different museums—though don’t confuse that for being financially successful. We’re not in it for the money, hmmm?”

Just as she said that, the door opened creakily and a girl walked in, her cheeks burning when she realized she’d interrupted class. We all watched her hurry to an open easel in the back, the sound of her portfolio clanking against the floor loud in the suddenly quiet room.

“Thank you for joining us,” the professor said, her voice icy. Riker got up to close the door, and I surreptitiously studied the clean, masculine lines his profile. In the light of day he looked softer, more put together; the leather jacket was missing and he wore a pair of plain, black-framed glasses that he must need in the classroom. If I closed my eyes, I could still smell him on me.

Concentrate.
I sat up straight and snapped my attention off of him.

“As I was saying, it was lonely being an artist. Especially all the traveling. One day, I decided I was going to settle down, but I didn’t know where. I stumbled upon Belmont on a layover when my flight was cancelled, and the rest is history. The college was kind enough to give me a position. Fifteen years later and here I stand—ready to whip all of you young artists into shape. Any questions?”

Behind her, Riker cleared his throat, the sound a little pointed. Professor Hickory glanced at him, seeming to realize he was sitting there for the first time. “Ah, yes,” she said, her mouth a thin line. “I’d also like you to meet Riker, my TA. He can help you outside of office hours if you have any pressing questions—though I don’t expect you will.

“There’s only one objective in this class: make good art. If you can’t manage that, well… maybe rethink careers.”

Anxiety welled up inside me at her words.
I hope I’m good enough,
I thought, tuning out my surroundings for a moment as I went through the motions of organizing my pencils and erasers.
I don’t know what else I could possibly do with my life.

Kayla raised her hand to ask a question. “Professor Hickory, are we drawing a live model today? When will they arrive?”

“Yes, we are. And to answer your question, he’s already here. Riker will be our first subject.”

***

Riker seemed upset at her suggestion.

“With all due respect, Ann—Dr. Hickory,” he said, standing to face her, “I thought that Hillary was coming in today.”

“I emailed you. Or I thought I did,” the professor said, pulling out her phone and muttering at it. “I guess it didn’t go through. Hillary canceled. We’re going to need you again this semester.”

Frowning, Riker pulled her over to the corner behind the desk, out of range of my (nosy) hearing. I turned to my supplies, peeling off a fresh piece of drawing paper and pinning it to the board with artist’s tape.

“I can’t believe he’s going to pose for us,” Kayla said, her voice hushed to a whisper. “I mean, a hot guy? Really?”

“Yeah, it seems so.” The last thing I needed this morning was a refresher course on Riker’s abs. They were burned
well
into my memory, along with other parts of him. Other very unforgettable parts.

“Alright class,” Professor Hickory said, walking over to the lights and dimming them substantially, “for this first exercise, don’t try to do too much value work or shading. Keep it light,
gestural.
Riker will move every two minutes, giving you plenty of opportunity to study up on your weaknesses. And I’ll be coming around the room to see your progress and critique it.”

Critique
—the word I seemed to hear a thousand times a semester. In the corner, Riker seemed to be stripping. I could feel tension welling up in me at the thought of him standing a few feet away, completely naked, while I stared at him intensely. Nothing in the world could have been more humiliating.

Stepping towards the platform in the center of the room, the professor turned on a few lamps and lit it up.

“Oh, and class—our model will be wearing his underwear, but don’t let that stop you from getting imaginative. You’ll be expected to draw
many
sets of genitals this semester. Best to get it out of the way upfront.”

Uncomfortable snickers spread through the class. I heard Kayla give a big sigh of relief at the news he wouldn’t be fully naked; I more than shared that feeling, considering how awkward it would be to see him naked again.
Maybe this won’t be so difficult after all.
I just had to ignore the obvious chemistry between us. Easier said than done.

Chapter Seven

Nude

If there was one thing Riker hadn’t counted on that morning, it was that he’d have to publicly strip down to his briefs and stand in front of the girl he’d slept with just the night before.

At least he’d been prepared; it was a habit of his to check over the class roster every morning, and he’d recognized Mara’s name. He’d also known there was a chance the model wouldn’t show today. This wasn’t the first time Hillary no-showed and he had to cover for her.

But I didn’t expect that both would happen on the same day,
he thought as he pulled off his pants
.
Thankfully he’d convinced Ann to let him leave his briefs on and dim the lights as much as possible, with the spots focused on his chest.
Every time I pose for her class, she gets more clothes off of me somehow.
The woman was a fiend.