Noah

Everyone hates Mondays. It’s a day of the week that totally gets a bad rap.

As for me, I have no hatred toward them, especially this particular Monday. How could I be mad when I got to spend time with Brazen and then go to an art class after work?

I’m tidying up my desk before I leave for the day when Brazen rises from his office chair. My eyes follow as his long legs bring him closer to me.

“What are your plans tonight?” he asks while leaning into me.

He was quiet all day. I didn’t mind. We had work to do, and my desk gave me a clear view of his handsome face. I was happy to sit and watch him work.

“I have a class up at the center in about a half hour,” I tell him.

“Are you walking there?”

“I am.” It’s not too far. Plus, I don’t have a car.

“I’ll walk you,” he insists.

What I want to say is, Yes, I’d like that. Instead, I say, “You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He tucks a wayward hair behind my ear.

“Okay then.” My smile grows so big that my jaw hurts.

I can feel it—the shift, the chemistry between us that is burning a bit brighter right now. It’s in the way he’s looking at me. Some of the cloudy indecision has lifted from his eyes, making the vibrant color all the more bright.

We grab our things, and Brazen locks up behind us when we leave. Side by side, we walk down the sidewalk, away from the office and toward the center. Those damn butterflies spring to life in my stomach. But Brazen? He seems calm and collected. His tall frame towers over my petite build, and the dark sunglasses he pulls down hides his eyes from me.

“So, tell me about this art stuff,” Brazen casually says as we walk.

“It’s an outlet for me. In the past, I’ve only really played with pencils, markers, and crayons, but I’d like to explore more. I want to paint, sculpt, and do everything else I can get into. That’s what I’m doing at the center.”

“You any good?” There is a teasing playfulness to his words.

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” I counter, still positive our time together is over for the day.

Now in front of the center, Brazen holds the door open for me. I step through the threshold, and a pang of disappointment runs through me now that our walk is over. It’s quickly snuffed out when he follows me inside.

“What are you doing?” I ask him.

“Finding out about your talent for myself,” he says dryly while pulling his sunglasses from his face.

“You’re going to crash my class?” I never thought he’d come to it, and I was being flirtatious when I mentioned it. But, if he’s serious, I’m not going to talk him out of it.

“I am. Just show me where to sign up.” With his hand, he mimics signing on the dotted line.

He has a surprise in store for him; that’s for sure. Once we get him set up, I take him back into the classroom. Most of the seats are already filled, but Brazen and I take the last two positioned next to each other. I open my bag, get out my supplies, and share with him because he is ill-prepared for our class.

“Do we just draw whatever we feel like?” he asks, testing the drawing tool.

“Not exactly.” I evade. “Can you draw?”

“Do blueprints count?” He shrugs. “No one would spend money on anything I created, but I can do better than stick figures and one-dimensional landscapes.”

It’s then that our instructor walks out, followed by a beautiful woman.

Brazen doesn’t give her a second glance and focuses all of his attention my way.

Until she removes her robe and takes position on the stage.

It’s cute to watch a grown man blush.

“What’s the matter, Mr. Hale? Have you never seen the feminine form in all of its beauty?” This moment is too priceless not to taunt him.

Brazen looks so much younger as he grows uncomfortable beside me. He can’t look at me, and he doesn’t sneak even the smallest glance at the model. His sight traces the cracks in the ceiling.

“I’ve seen my fair share. Just not like this and not while sitting next to the girl I came here to impress.”

Teasing him becomes much less important.

Brazen Hale—my boss, this perfect beachy, surfer type—came here … to this class … to impress me. The words came out of his mouth clear as day.

“I’ll be impressed when you can look me in the eyes again.”

His eyes drop to mine, and there is so much honesty and sincerity in his stare, it gives me pause.

“Relax and breathe. We’re here to draw this girl. I knew that before you crashed my class. I’m comfortable, so you should be, too. You’re going to need to be if you want to stick around for the hour.”

He shakes it off and smirks at me.

My insides clench, and I force myself to take my own advice and relax.

Our teacher makes her rounds around the classroom as the hour goes on. Brazen draws, keeping his attention firmly on his paper, and I attempt to frazzle him, but he won’t be disturbed. His eyebrows furrow, and he bites his bottom lip while he works. I attempt to concentrate on the woman before me, which is nearly impossible with Brazen next to me.

I focus on her hard nipples, but his scent wafts into my space. I will myself to keep my eyes on her deep curves, but I’m distracted by the slight hum he releases when he’s immersed in thought. Her long legs lose my attention when the man next to me flexes his arms to release the tension from his back. My drawing is barely halfway finished when the class is over. Brazen comes to stand next to my easel as the rest of our classmates pack their things.

“You’re much more talented at this than I am,” he compliments.

“We’ll have to see about that. You were so focused. You must have at least had some beginner’s luck.”

I move to step around him so that I can check out how he did. I’m shocked at what I find. The lines are messy and certain areas display that he clearly struggled to bring real life on paper. Those things aren’t what surprise me though. I’m taken aback because what he drew on his paper isn’t the model.

It’s me.

From memory, Brazen drew me sitting on the porch swing from the first day we met. He even got the pattern of the dress I wore that day right. The words to respond are knocked right out of me. My fingers trace the lines of his drawing, and I fight to keep my emotions in check.

“What do you think? Should I sell the business and become a starving artist?”

I clear my throat. I need to in order to respond.

“Maybe not just yet.” I collect myself and turn around to face Brazen, who is looking down at me with so much affection.

“You’re probably right.” He reaches out and runs his fingers down my jawline while wearing the most genuine smile I’ve ever seen.

“Why didn’t you draw the model?” I have to ask.

His fingers trace down my neck until they tangle into the back of my hair. Gently, he pulls back, lifting my chin so that my eyes are locked with his. If I had any doubt about how Brazen sees me, it vanishes right there.

“Why would I give my attention to anything else when I came here with you? Yours is the human form I find most beautiful.”

Slowly, he pulls me closer, and I believe we’re about to share our first kiss. Instead, he wraps his arms around me and clutches me close to him. Even if it isn’t the kiss I was expecting, it’s still the best hug I’ve ever had.

“Come on, let me walk you home,” he says as he releases me.

Romance movies have always been my obsession, but never did I think I would have a moment that rivaled the intense emotions those films bring out in me. I never thought real life could be like when Jack and Rose were kings of the world or when John and Savannah wrote to each other while he was deployed. Until Brazen. He just gave me emotions that exceeded my favorites. This is better than when Jack painted Rose like one of his French girls and when Savannah and John told each other they’d see each other soon because this isn’t fiction.

It’s real, and it’s mine.