13. Greek Statue Weens
Greek Statue Weens
CARTER
Slowly but surely, the seats filled up, and I couldn’t help but admire watching Sarafina in her element. When it was finally time to strip, Sara focused comically hard on my eyes as she took the robe from me and hung it on a nearby hook.
To her credit, she didn’t look once. Not even a little peek.
For the entire hour, she had her hand glued to her neck, breathily looking at each student’s work, while she made quiet comments, pointing things out. Her gaze flicked up to me very professionally and I could sense she still hadn’t looked where she really wanted to.
Sara nodded at me, and I shifted into a new pose before attempting to stay perfectly still again, which was a hell of a lot harder than it looked.
“He looks like a Greek statue. Like he’s actually carved out of a piece of marble.” One student commented under her breath.
That’s when Sara looked, like really looked, and this time, she avoided my eyes altogether. Her neck immediately turned a shade of red that resembled a very cute, very ripe tomato, and I smirked as her eyes shuttered for a beat too long, and then she moved to the next student without comment .
Fuck yeah, I looked like a Greek statue. I’d worked my ass off for this body.
When I finally moved into the last position, I could feel my foot starting to cramp up, probably because I was straining too hard to stay flaccid.
Sara seemed to notice and passed me the robe a little early, a sparkly little grin on her face that she shared only with me. Mine. “You can go change now.” Her voice was a push of air as she dared a look up at me through her lashes.
As soon as I slipped the robe on, it was game over. Instant boner. And that fucker would not go down. I was so damn hard I had to wait it out in the bathroom. I realized everyone probably thought I was rubbing one out in here, and looking at the walls, I was sure I wouldn’t have been the first.
When I finally emerged, Sara was busy on the computer again, and the classroom was empty. Perfect.
As I neared, she stood abruptly and nearly knocked over her chair, but I was already there, steadying her by the elbow. “Careful.” I hummed, and she was jittery as I stepped towards her—I couldn’t help it.
She stumbled back, eyes flared as I closed the space again. I wasn’t thinking, I was just compelled to be closer to her.
We repeated this slowly, like it was essential, until she startled, finally bumping into the wall behind her.
I caged her in, one arm resting next to her head, while I boldly twirled a loose strand of her hair around my finger, unable to resist. “Do I make you nervous, pretty girl?”
“What?” she rasped.
“You hardly looked at me once.” I murmured.
“I—” She breathily searched my face. “I looked at you—I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Oh, I was perfectly comfortable.” I said lowly and stepped a bit closer, wanting to add, you can stare at me naked anytime you want, but I didn’t .
“Good.” She swallowed hard, chest brushing mine on her next inhale. “I’m glad.”
God, I wanted to kiss her so bad. Nothing was more torturous than the almost kiss we’d nearly shared the other night.
This past month I’d been driving myself crazy, because I couldn’t decide if she’d actually leaned in right at the last second or if I’d just imagined it.
I’d never know for sure, and I wouldn’t risk fucking things up again . I needed to go slow, test the waters.
“Well, you survived.” She said with a nervous laugh, filling the silence.
I licked my lips. “We both did.”
She fidgeted. “Let me buy you lunch, you earned it.” But she didn’t move. Neither of us moved for a long moment.
What the hell was I doing? Liam would castrate me if I tried to kiss his sister again. Maybe he’d be right to , and maybe it’d be worth it.
“You bet your ass I earned it.” I pushed off the wall, breaking the tension. “Was I the best nudie you’ve ever had?”
“Oh, I never kiss and tell.” She gave me a devious look as she reached for her bag.
“Fair enough.” I nudged her with my arm as we headed toward the door, and she nudged me back, lingering for a moment, making my boner come right back. Sigh.
In the hallway, Sara pivoted suddenly, and she was chewing on her lip like she was trying to make a meal out of it. “Can I show you something?”
“What did you have in mind?” I gave her a devilish grin, and hooked a finger through her belt loop, tugging her closer, before I’d even realized what I’d done. She sucked in a breath as I quickly let go, appalled at myself. What the hell was wrong with me.
“Um, do you want to see my work?” She asked breathily.
Knowing Sara, this invitation might have been even more intimate than what I’d had in mind. “Hell yeah, I do.” I smiled wide. “Lead the way.”
Sara looked at me over her shoulder and hesitated for a moment before she unlocked the door at the end of the hallway and slowly pushed it open.
Inside the dark room, row after row of massive canvases were lined up, and I grinned, knowing how much this must mean to her. She’d always been extremely secretive about her art.
“Which one’s yours?”
“All of them.” She fidgeted nervously. “This is my private studio.”
I reached for the light switch, and my mouth dropped open. “Holy shit, Sara, these are really fucking good.”
She was still furiously chewing her lip.
“I’m serious, you’re an incredible artist.” I scratched my head.
“I mean, I always knew you would be, but seeing what you’ve been working on…
” I honestly felt a little guilty in that moment.
I’d always believed in her, but seeing her work with my own two eyes, I realized even I’d underestimated her skill.
“I’m obviously still learning.”
“You could sell these right now .” I said, already heading across the room to have a closer look. “Have you sold anything yet?” I asked, knowing they were better than some of the paintings I’d recently bought, which was insane.
“No, not yet. I’m not quite ready to put my stuff out there yet. I just feel like it would be humiliating if they didn’t sell. Maybe after I complete my master’s.” Sara brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “I don’t know, maybe I’m not cut out for this, maybe?—”
I turned, looking her square in the eye. “I wanna buy your first painting.”
“Carter.” She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have?—”
“I want. To buy. Your first. Painting.” I practically demanded, because not only did I want to support her, I wanted bragging rights.
She searched my face. “You’re serious?” She clearly had no idea how good she was .
I headed for a medium-sized canvas on the far wall. “How much?”
“Uh, a hundred bucks?” She shrugged, bewildered. “I don’t know.”
I pulled all the cash I had out of my wallet—a stack of hundred-dollar bills—and handed it to her, still staring at the painting. “Consider this a down payment.”
“Don’t be silly.” She scoffed. “I’d just give it to you. Besides, this doesn’t even look like your style at all.”
“Exactly.” I murmured. “It’s all you.” All the complexity and depth and joy of Sara was written all over the canvas, in every single brushstroke. It’d be like having a piece of her in my house— I was ecstatic.
“This is going to be worth a fortune someday, and you’re going to regret letting it go for so little.” I teased, hearing a small sniffle behind me. I whirled around, finding Sara fanning her eyes frantically. “What’s wrong?” I pulled her into the hug I’d been dying to give her all day.
“I don’t even know if I can do this.” She sniffled against my chest.
“I’ve got news for ya, sweetheart, you’re already doing it.
” I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Strawberry and amber.
Sweet and sexy. She smelled like home. “You’re gonna be a star.
” I said, in an old-timey accent, trying to lighten the mood, all while feeling like there was a tight band constricting around my chest. Why the hell did this feel so damn right? Her in my arms.
She laughed, and I pulled back, taking her face in my hands as I looked her in the eyes a little breathlessly. “You’re incredible, Sara, you know that? I’ve never met anyone like you.”
She immediately looked down. Nervous.
Good.
“Same to you.” She playfully punched my arm, breaking the tension. “I guess I have to figure out how to ship this thing to you, huh?”
I chuckled, “Damn right you do, and by the way, there is no way in hell I’m letting you pay for lunch.”
She wiped her nose and shook her head, trying to shake the emotions off. “I can live with that, I guess.”
“Yeah, that’s my girl.” I wished she really were.
At lunch, I couldn’t stop grinning at her.
“ What? ” She giggled, giving me a crazed look.
I shrugged. “You look good in my sweatshirt, that’s all.” It was one of my old Air Force hoodies, and damn, she did look good in my clothes, never mind that my arms were freezing.
“What can I say? I look good in everything.” She winked. “Even this ratty ol’ thing.”
“Can’t argue there.” I stuck my tongue in my cheek with a smirk, not bothering to add it must not be too ratty if she kept burying her nose in it—every time she thought I wasn’t looking.
Sara reached across the table, serving herself more lamb kofta, and I was always impressed at how much she could put down for such a tiny little thing. She’d always had such a hunger for life, food, friends. It was infectious. Her joy was infectious. Felt essential, somehow.
She caught me staring, and her very full cheeks turned pink. I just grinned, knowing I’d already placed a to-go order, so she’d have enough leftovers for the week. She loved leftovers.
Sara dragged a piece of pita bread through the hummus contemplatively. “So, flyboy, what’s your call sign?” She finally asked, a heated look painting her expression.
I smiled to myself. “You really wanna know?”
“Obviously.” She swatted my hand when I tried to steal the piece of meat she was already going for, and I grinned.
“The boys gave it to me, I don’t know, it’s kind of embarrassing.” I admitted.
Her eyes sparkled. “Now you definitely have to tell me.”
I leaned back and gripped my neck. “Casanova.” I said it so quietly that she made me repeat myself, but I think she might have heard me the first time.
Sara’s nose scrunched as she grinned with pure amusement. “Casanova?” I nodded, more than a little embarrassed. “I think they hit the nail on the head.” She shoved the pita bread into her mouth with a wildly amused smirk, and I groaned. “Well, Casanova, maybe you’ll take me flying sometime.”
“You trust me that much?” I teased.
She chewed slowly and then swallowed. “I’ve always trusted you, Carter. I can’t help it.”
I stopped mid bite, I couldn’t help it either. My stomach bottomed out, knowing that in an hour, I had to head back and there was always the chance that this would be my last visit home. I needed more time. We needed more time.
Christmas and New Year’s came and went, and I spent the holidays flying into remote areas, covered in mud and other less savory substances. This last few months had been especially brutal, and because I wasn’t sleeping well, I was running on fumes.
While I couldn’t get Sara out of my mind, or out of my dreams for that matter, I’d been so busy juggling so many things , it hadn’t occurred to me, that I hadn’t heard from Liam or Sara in weeks—despite our agreement that we would try to text more regularly.
Finally back home from an exhausting black ops mission, I grabbed the mail and jogged up the stairs to my modest one-bedroom apartment, and headed inside.
It was just off base, and of course I could afford something more luxurious, but when I’d enlisted, nobody knew who I was.
It was a fresh start, and I wasn’t about to out myself by renting an extravagant apartment or driving a flashy car. I was hardly ever at home anyway.
I quickly went through my mail, finding a thick black envelope in the stack. Thinking it was another society letter, I almost threw it away, but the return address in the corner caught my eye.
It was from the Devereuxs—a Christmas card, probably. I smiled and slid my finger through the seal, pulling the card out. My face dropped, realizing it was a funeral invitation.
The date had already passed—I folded over and puked right onto the kitchen floor, as a wave of guilt punched through me like a freight train. After everything she’d done for me, I’d missed the fucking funeral.