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Griffin

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“You’re skipping out on pool tonight because you have an art class?” My friend, Sebastian Wolf, follows the question with a hearty laugh. “Your bullshit excuses for bailing on me are getting worse and worse.”

“Do you hear me bitching when you cancel on me?” I draw a pull from the beer in my hand. “How many times have you sent me a text saying you can’t make it?”

“I work homicide,” he points out. “A dead body trumps a pool game any day of the week.”

“In that case, a hot art teacher trumps a pool game.”

That catches his full attention. He puts the phone in his hand down on the top of the weathered bar we’re sitting next to. He asked me to meet him at Easton Pub after he was done his shift. I agreed even though it was only five o’clock and I had a meeting scheduled.

I don’t see him as often as I’d like because his work dictates his life. I can say the same for myself. That’s why I had Joyce reschedule with my client so I could jump on the subway and head here.

He twirls the glass of bourbon in front of him. “You’re taking an art class because the teacher is hot?”

“Essentially, yes.” I agree as I take another sip of beer.

He lowers his head to hide the smile on his lips. “You know I need to ask, Griffin. Since when do you put in that much time and effort to score?”

It’s a good question. I don’t have an answer to it.

“She ended up at my office a couple of weeks ago.” I start at the beginning because I’m hoping that will help him piece this together. “She was robbed after a one-night stand. The guy dropped my business card on the floor and she came looking for me.”

“Who was the guy?”

I shrug as I take another drink. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”

“So she shows up and what? You decide to take her class because you feel sorry for her?” He chuckles. “Where the fuck is the real Griffin Kent because he wouldn’t do shit like that?”

He’s right. I wouldn’t. I’m not known for my giving nature.

“I like this woman,” I admit with a shake of my head. “Don’t ask me why, but I do.”

“Apparently, you like her enough to sit through an art class. What kind of class is it?”

I could lie. I should lie, but I don’t bullshit Sebastian. We’ve been friends too long for that. “It’s a nude drawing class.”

He throws his head back in hearty laughter. “You’re shitting me. You’re taking a class where you draw nudes?”

I try not to smile, but it’s useless. “What the fuck is so funny? You don’t think I can do it? Is that it?”

“What does the model look like?” His dark brows wiggle. “Is she as hot as the teacher?”

“He’s average.” I push back the bite of jealousy that I still feel whenever I think about Piper with Rufus. “He’s got nothing on me.”

“He’s got enough confidence to show his dick to a room full of strangers.” He lifts his glass to his lips. “I’ll give the guy credit for that.”

I’m not about to give Rufus credit for anything. He’s just a hurdle on my path to Piper. She’s as attracted to me as I am to her. It’s only a matter of time until we act on it.

***

“I’m thirty-two.” I don’t look over at Brenda because I’ve been trying to avoid engaging in her one-sided conversation for the past hour. I’ve been successful up to this point.

“You’re thirty-two?” She raises her voice loud enough that everyone around us turns to look, including Piper. 

I keep my pencil on the paper even though it’s not moving. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

“It’s not that it’s hard to believe.” I catch the motion of Brenda’s hand in my peripheral vision.

The woman is on top of her game today. Our assignment was to focus on an outline of Rufus. Her drawing has clean lines and a discernable shape. Mine doesn’t.

“I would have pegged you for right around my age.” She taps the tip of her pencil on the sleeve of my suit jacket. “I’m twenty-eight.”

That warrants a complete turn on my stool to face her. “You’re twenty-eight?”

“And a half.” She throws me a smug grin. “Don’t look so surprised.”

“You’re misreading disbelief for surprise.” I brush my hand over the charcoal dust she left on my sleeve. “You’re not twenty-eight.”

That draws her brows up. “You’re not a gentleman if you question a lady’s age.”

“How are you two doing?” Piper approaches from behind Brenda. “I’m glad to see you talking. Sometimes it can help if you bounce ideas off another artist. There’s also the benefit of moral support, of course.”

“I think mine is perfect.” Brenda sets her pencil down on her easel. “What do you think, Piper?”

Piper steps up until she’s standing between Brenda and me. The side of her white pencil skirt brushes against my pant leg as her fingers moves in the air close to the sketchpad sitting on Brenda’s easel. “I’m impressed. I think this is a great foundation to work from. It’s important to keep scale in mind. You don’t want his thigh to appear smaller than other areas.”

His dick. She’s referring to his dick.

Brenda’s interpretation is off the mark. The cock in her drawing is scaled up. It’s at least two times larger than the thigh she just drew.

I look up at Rufus. He’s still in the same pose he was an hour ago.

“You’re doing great, Griffin.” Piper’s hand lands on my shoulder. “I’d pay more attention to cleaning up the lines.”

I would too if I gave two shits about the sketch I’m creating.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I reach to cover her hand with mine when I glance up at her face.

Our eyes lock as she lets out a small sigh. “I need to check on the other students.”

She doesn’t move until she hears someone call out her name and with that, she tugs her hand free and finally walks away.