Chapter 10
CARMEN
Iknow what I said, but who am I kidding? I’m on a date with Jamie.
The look my aunt gave me when he picked me up almost had my eyes doing a full rotation in my head. I’m not looking forward to her peppering me with questions when I get home.
Jamie and I are walking to the art class.
Awkward excitement rolls off him in waves. Honestly, it’s kind of cute. But at the same time … kind of concerning.
I don’t know what kind of person he’s built me up as in his head, but I’m not it.
I’m distant, I’m always in a bad mood, and I have no idea what I want.
I’m not the kind of person a guy like Jamie should be with.
Even though he caught me in a moment of weakness and rare openness on Friday night when I agreed to this date, none of that has changed.
And no matter how often my idea of using him to help with my writer’s block has continued to tease me, my better sense still prevails.
I’ll just have to be sure not to let this date turn into a second.
And, hey, maybe I’ll actually like painting. Who knows. Going on a date with Jamie isn’t a good idea, but his suggestion that I should start trying new things is.
“So, what kind of stuff do they paint in this class?” I ask, filling the silence that’s settled on us.
Jamie rubs the back of his neck. “Hm. Good question. I’m not sure. I think something different every time?”
“Have you been to one of them before?” I ask.
“No, but my friend Maddie’s talked about them and said they’re great. She’s an artist. She goes to Brumehill, too. You two should hang out sometime. Maybe you’ll bond after we discover that you’re an art prodigy.”
I hum sardonically at his joke.
“Do you like your coworkers at Last Word?” he asks, switching tracks.
I tilt my head. “Yeah, they’re alright.” An unpleasant emotion pinches in my stomach. I get along with my coworkers fine, but a lot of them are really friendly with each other. I’ve just never felt like I fit in. I never joke around with any of them or make plans to do something after work.
That’s just my personality, I guess. I’ve never picked up friends easily. I have my best friend from high school, but she went to a college in the south. We keep in touch, but it’s not easy to see each other often.
Am I happy with that? I guess I’m not. I guess that’s where the unpleasant pinch is coming from. But it is what it is. It’s who I am. How are you supposed to change who you are when you’re already an adult?
I realize I’m not doing a lot to keep the conversation rolling tonight. Maybe that’s for the best. If we have an awkward night, Jamie might finally lose interest in me for good. Write me off as a lost cause.
That’s what I want. But I don’t know why the thought has a cold chill wrapping around me underneath my fluffy coat.
We reach the building on campus where the class is held. Jamie shrugs off his jacket.
I have to say, he looks good tonight. The way he looks has never been the thing keeping me from reciprocating his interest, that’s for sure.
His brown sweater is roomy, but his broad, heavy shoulders still fill it out with ease.
My eyes tick to the end of his sleeves, and heat stirs low in my core at the sight of his hands.
Like a thief finding the perfect moment to slink through a carelessly unlooked door, the thought of those hands running over my body flashes in my mind uninvited.
A chill dances up my spine, and my nipples pebble under my shirt.
After feeling those hands all over me, I wonder if the adjectives and phrases I can’t call to mind would just pour out of me, allowing me to finish my chapter with ease.
I wonder what Jamie would be like in bed. Would he be timid and reserved like he usually is? Or does he have a dark side that comes out behind closed doors?
Does he let his partner take control?
I entertain the thought of taking the lead with Jamie, instructing him on how to use that well-oiled machine of a body to please me exactly the way I want …
Heat pulses between my thighs, liquid and tight. If only Jamie were the kind of guy who could do no-strings-attached, it might be fun to find out.
But he’s not, so I better stop thinking about it.
We take seats in front of empty canvases in a medium-sized room. It’s warm. Really warm. More than warm, it’s hot. Someone really cranked up the thermostat.
The seats and canvases are set up in a semi-circle, all facing an empty chair. I guess someone’s going to sit in it, and we’ll be working on portrait painting today? Maybe.
It’s a good turnout tonight. Plenty of people who look like college students, along with adults of all ages.
My conversation with Jamie is in a lull. He clears his throat self-consciously, obviously plumbing his brain for a topic to get it going.
“So, uh, watch any more art documentaries lately?” he asks.
“No, not since the one I told you about.”
His cheeks turn pink. “I have.” A bashful smile lifts on his face. “Since you mentioned the one you watched, I’ve kind of been on a kick with them.”
A light feeling pulses in my chest. That’s adorably pathetic. Jamie’s a nice guy. The sooner he can get over me and find the kind of girl who suits him, the better. He’ll make someone happy, that’s for sure.
Am I sure it couldn’t be me?
The question whispers from somewhere deep in my brain. But I know the answer is yes.
“A kick, huh?” I ask, amused. “How many?”
The pink on his cheeks spreads and turns deeper. He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant, even though he’s anything but. “A dozen?”
He wasted his weekend watching a dozen art documentaries just because I mentioned one? That feeling in my chest grows.
“Was the documentary you watched called Revenge of the Nice? The one about Impressionism?” he asks
“Yeah, that was it.”
His eyes twinkle. “I knew it.”
My forehead furrows even as I smile dubiously. “You knew it?”
He shrugs again. “That’s one of the ones I watched. Something about it, I don’t know … when I was watching it, I had the feeling it was the one you watched, too.”
Oh, brother. If his sappiness could put Canada’s maple syrup industry out of business, his cheesiness could do a number on Wisconsin’s dairy industry, too.
But you know what? It’s not the turn-off I’d have expected. I don’t know why it isn’t, because sappiness and cheesiness are so not my things. Maybe it’s because he’s so genuine, so … uncalculated.
A woman wearing paint-stained jeans and an oversized buttoned-up shirt, looking very much like she’s accustomed to spending long hours in front of a canvas and easel, walks hurriedly from the hallway. She stands near the chair that everyone in the room is facing.
“Bad news, everyone,” she begins. “Our model won’t be able to make it today.”
Murmurs of disappointment buzz around the room.
“I know, I know,” she sighs. “We were all looking forward to starting in on figure painting. But the model we hired came down with a cold. We’re hoping he’ll be better by next week.”
We were supposed to do figure painting today? Maybe that’s why the heat is cranked up so much in here: because the model was going to be half-naked. Maybe whole-naked.
And the instructor just said the model was supposed to be a he.
An outlandish thought wiggles into my mind. I’m nudging Jamie with a smirk on my face before my judgment can counsel me to keep it to myself.
“Maybe you should volunteer,” I whisper through the side of my mouth.
Jamie’s face flushes with crimson. “Me?”
My eyes elevator the length of his seated frame.
“Sure. Someone like you has no reason to be self-conscious about showing their body in public. You’ll save the day.
And after all, the whole point of this is for me to find out if I have a knack for painting, right?
You’re not the one who needs to find a hobby. ”
I’m not usually the type to joke around like this, but the way Jamie’s blush spreads all the way to the tips of his ears is just too amusing. I can’t help myself.
Plus, if I’m being honest … I don’t expect him to do it, but I really wouldn’t mind seeing exactly what Jamie’s working with under those clothes of his.
I can’t deny that the way his muscles ripple underneath his shirts and the way his backside is framed in a pair of jeans often has my imagination conjuring up images.
I know a hookup with Jamie is off the table. But I wouldn’t mind an opportunity to get a peek after all these months of knowing him.
Now that I’ve spoken the thought out loud, it’s like there’s a devil on my shoulder urging me to keep pushing.
“It’s not like it’s too cold in here or anything. Besides, think of everyone else here. We don’t want them to have come out in this weather for nothing.”
How much am I just teasing him, I wonder? How much do I actually want to see him stripped down?
Someone behind us overhears. “Wait, you’ll pose?” she asks, loud enough to have more heads turning in Jamie’s direction.
Jamie’s eyes dart around at the faces trained on him expectantly. “I, well …”
The looks pile on, eyes brimming with excitement at the potential solution. I wouldn’t call Jamie a people-pleaser, but he’s definitely someone who has a hard time saying no when he’s in a position to help others.
The instructor clasps her hands together, so much gratitude shining in her face that I know it’s the coup de grace to Jamie’s resistance.
“You don’t mind? Really?”
A forced smile and a grimace are battling for supremacy on Jamie’s face.
“Well, umm, is it …” his voice lowers, “is it … nude?”
The way he whispers that last word has me pressing my lips to keep from laughing. I’m bad enough for having gotten him into this mess, I don’t need to add insult to injury by cackling next to him while he’s sweating with nerves.
“No, no,” the instructor says. I sense some reassurance washing through Jamie, before she adds, “you can keep your underwear on.”
“Just … underwear?” Jamie peeps.
The instructor is already by his side, practically pushing him off his chair and ushering him out of the room. “We’re already behind schedule; you can get changed back here.”
Flustered but obliging, Jamie follows along, throwing a bewildered look back at me over his shoulder.
I can’t help an arch grin spreading on my lips. I flash him a finger-wave before he disappears into the hallway.
As I wait, a tense feeling winds between my legs.
It’s almost an ache, radiating upward into my lower core.
All day, I wasn’t looking forward to this date, because I knew it wasn’t a good idea.
I know that it still isn’t—but I can’t deny that I am looking forward to seeing Jamie stripped down to his underwear. For the first and last time.
It’s like sneaking a big piece of cake when you’re on a diet. Or spending way too much time binge-watching a show when you really need to be working on something.
A bad idea? Yeah. Irresponsible? Yeah. Enjoyable? Oh, yeah.
The tension notches higher when Jamie steps back into the room, draped in a robe. I can sense hunger seeping into the eyes of every other woman in the room, and more than one of the men.
Jamie’s lips are a thin, straight line as he slowly approaches the chair, like a condemned prisoner shuffling to the gallows. You would think a guy who’s spent his life in locker rooms would be more comfortable showing skin.
Jamie doesn’t look at me. In fact, it’s pretty obvious he’s making a point of not even glancing at me.
Is it because looking at me in this state would make him even more nervous? Or because he’s worried about something inside his underwear swelling at the sight of me?
Finally, Jamie lets the robe slip off his shoulders.
Oh. Wow.
Heat tips into my bloodstream, barreling through my veins and turning the tension between my legs into a sharp pang. A warm, slick feeling pulses at the juncture of my thighs. My nipples instantly stiffen into sharp points.
Jamie’s body is … unreal.
Firm muscles ripple in supple waves under the healthy, golden glow of his skin.
His shoulders … all I can do is shake my head. So wide, so perfectly rounded. Muscles cover his long arms, articulated biceps bulging when he moves. The overhead lighting washing over him makes the veins in his thick forearms all too visible.
His chest is broad, his abs chiseled, and the tapered lines of muscle that carve into his lower torso make my brain feel fizzy.
His boxers are small, tight, and cling to his trim hips.
My fingers tingle as I imagine running them over the dips and peaks of the physique that stands so close. My better judgment must be on vacation.
Jamie continues to avoid looking in my direction as the instructor directs him on how to pose. He turns so we’re facing him at profile, one foot propped on the chair, bending so that he’s supporting his weight by resting his elbow against his lifted knee.
The way his muscles dance while he gets into position is mesmerizing.
Jamie holds his pose as the instructor gives us our directions. Today, we’re just going to be working on the outline: getting the limbs, proportions, and general position of the figure right.
It’s pretty fun. I can’t say that this has awoken a great love of painting in me, nor can I say that I’m a natural. But it’s enjoyable to try something new. I might just take Jamie’s advice and keep trying different things.
He has some good ideas. And he’s hot as fuck without his clothes on.