Violet
Remember how I told you the universe hates me?
You believe me now, don’t you?
The weekend dragged by, despite the fact Vance stayed in town to keep me company. I loved seeing my brother, something I didn’t get to do enough. Unfortunately, the visit wasn’t as awesome as it could have been because of Stark.
Or Ten.
What the hell was I supposed to call him now?
Nothing. If I was smart, I’d run far, far away and never speak to him again. My heart was proving to be particularly dumb. And that tether I’d mentioned a million times since his body joined with mine?
Still there. Still tugging at me every single time I moved. It wouldn’t matter how far I ran; he would always be there.
Vance would probably live off this for years. I’m serious. Years. The fact that his sister was involved with his greatest crush didn’t make him angry or jealous. Vance said, “If he wasn’t going to turn gay, there was only one other person on this planet good enough for Ten, and that’s you, V.”
I reminded him that Ten lied to me. Repeatedly.
My brother grudgingly decided perhaps I was too good for Ten after all.
Obviously, the picture I just painted was an accurate description of the entire weekend. We stayed in, Vance ate pizza, and I had smoothies. I did break down and eat some Sour Patch Kids. If a girl couldn’t eat her feelings once in a while when a famous rich guy broke her heart, then why even make candy?
I rest my case.
Besides, what was it going to do? Make me gain weight? I laughed in the universe’s face as I shoveled in those little kid-shaped sour suckers. *Pause* I just realized how wrong it is to eat candy shaped like children… *Unpause* Meh. They’re gluten free.
In between watching movies, we basically talked about what happened. Vance knew all about Ten, something that saved me from having to stalk him all over the internet to find out everything I could.
I guess I really should have paid attention all those times Vance went on about him. Probably should have actually looked at the posters on his walls, too.
Ten was quite the prince of pop. Some of his songs held records all over the world. Vance tried to play me one, and I started crying the minute he started singing. Just the sound of his voice…
I rubbed a hand over my chest.
Well, he was the prince of pop. Until he made headlines again and again for wild behavior, and then the coup d'état of using his audience as a bathroom.
It just didn’t fit. The guy I’d been spending time with and all the information Vance told me… it was like two different people. Which naturally confused me more. I refused to look online, afraid of what I might see. Knowing there were pictures of me on KMZ, one of the biggest celeb gossip sites on the internet, made me queasy.
I could only imagine what the comment section was like.
Vance read them all; I was sure of it. Every time I looked over, his nose was stuck in his phone. I asked him once, in a moment of weakness. All he would say was how curious everyone was about me, the girl who got Ten’s attention.
I was miserable. More miserable than I’d ever been. Vance wanted to stay longer, but on Sunday afternoon, our parents called and demanded he get himself back home so he didn’t miss any more school.
I wasn’t sure if they knew what was going on. I doubted it. When I spoke to my mother, she didn’t let on she’d seen anything on TV. Of course, the only thing my parents watched was cooking shows. I highly doubted they gave a flying fig about Ten.
I didn’t say anything. I was going to let Vance handle it. He was good at it anyway.
My mom did pick up on how tired I sounded. I knew she worried, and then we had a ten-minute conversation about making sure I was taking my medications, blah, blah, blah. After promising I would call her after my doctor’s appointment, she let me go.
My doctor’s appointment—something that came every three months, something I was dreading this time.
There was too much going on right now. Everything with Ten, school… the fact I didn’t feel well. I’d been pretty good at staying positive, keeping it all under control, and then everything crumbled. It was hard to stay positive when everything was falling apart.
And now it was Monday. Joy.
After Vance left yesterday, I’d gone to bed early. Yes, if you must know, I cried myself to sleep. In the sheets he washed for me. In the bed we’d slept in together.
And if you must, must know… yes, I wore his hoodie to bed. When I’d asked him to go, he’d walked out with mine on. I was still wearing his.
It was just a stupid sweatshirt. I mean, geez, I had the exact same one. Except they were totally different. It had been his.
As I was lying there all weepy in the dark, I reminded myself it was the hoodie he’d bought so he could carry on the charade of being an actual BU student. That only made me cry harder.
If all that wasn’t enough in the shit circus that was my life, I was on my way to class to draw a naked woman’s cooter. I was seriously considering finding a seat behind her. I think I’d rather draw her naked butt than the other side. Ew.
I sincerely hoped she’d shaved for this.
A giggle erupted out of me. The person walking a few feet ahead of me glanced over his shoulder. I ducked my head so all they could see was the top of the yellow knit beanie I was wearing. It was cold today, colder than I was prepared to deal with. My joints felt creaky and hesitant to bend; my overall body was worn down and wanted to go back to bed.
Instead, I’d gotten up and thrown on thick navy leggings, tall Ugg boots, a long-sleeved white T-shirt, and a super-soft poncho-looking tunic in a beautiful blue. It had a cowl neck so I didn’t have to pile a scarf over the outfit. I left my hair down. Vance had braided it before he left, so when I got up this morning and took it out, my hair fell over my shoulders in big waves. All I did was add the knit beanie just to keep my ears warm.
I wondered what he was doing, as I did twenty million times a day. He tried to call me over the weekend. I didn’t answer. He tried to text, too.
Vance suggested maybe I give him a chance, that maybe he really did just want me to like him for him and not everything on the internet. Maybe. But at the same time, how was I supposed to like him for him if I didn’t know him?
I think my brother still had a crush on him.
I pushed thoughts of him out of my mind as the art building came into view. Gripping the strap of my messenger bag, I told myself to take it one thing at a time. First up, drawing a naked lady with a bag on her head while some ill-dressed, possibly deranged teacher marched around, telling us all we sucked.
Next, my doctor’s appointment this afternoon. I wasn’t looking forward to this either. I’d almost whined to my mother and pleaded to let Vance stay to come with, but at the last minute, I decided against it. I hated making a big deal of my RA. My parents worried enough about me. I didn’t want to add to it. Of course, now that Vance wasn’t here to give me a ride, I was mentally kicking myself. Since I didn’t have a car, I had to take an Uber.
Here’s to hoping I don’t die during the forty-five-minute ride.
Seriously. I read this book once. It’s called Taxi. It’s about a woman who gets kidnapped by her taxi driver because he wants her kidney… Shudder.
Clearly, I wasn’t the only person on this planet with an overactive imagination.
Anyway, after I got through all of that, I could go home and pout about Ten.
The professor’s office was right beside the classroom, and when I went in, I noted his office door was closed. Ew. That naked girl was probably in there waiting to come flash her goods for all our ready pencils.
I was one of the last ones to walk in, so I had to take one of the only seats left. My back was to the door, facing inward to the center of the circle where there was a platform already set up for the model.
Large wooden easels were all set up with chairs in front of them. I sank down and pulled off my bag, dropping it at my feet. Everyone busied themselves getting out their drawing supplies. Once I had everything out, I went across the room to get my large sketchpad out of the stack. We usually kept them here because they were too big to carry around campus all the time.
The pile was near the door, and as I was digging around for mine, I heard the professor’s door open.
“I guess it will have to do,” he muttered, grumpy.
My teeth sank into my lips. Was this guy ever in a good mood?
“Totally unprofessional,” he bellowed. “But the art must go on!”
I practically jumped out of my skin when he appeared, striding into the room, wearing his ugly red pants. “Ms. Meier,” he called. I held back a wince. “Hurry up now. You’re going to need all the time the class is allotted today, knowing how slow you draw.”
How rude!
I gasped before I could stop myself and pull the pad into my chest. He heard, stopped, rotated to look at me. “Did you say something, dear?”
“No, sir,” I said, wishing I had the guts to just blast him right there.
He motioned for me to get away, so I went back to my station and opened the book up to a fresh page.
“The model I hired to be here today decided not to show up,” he announced.
Inwardly, I had a mini dance party. No model? No nakey drawing! This day was looking up!
“Something I find to be rather unprofessional. I will be putting her on my blacklist. She will not be invited back.”
If I were her, I’d be thrilled.
“But, as I often say, the art must go on!”
The girl beside me groaned. I glanced at her with a commiserating look.
“I was able to find a new model at the last minute.” He went on. “Not exactly as I wanted, but desperate times…” His voice faded, and he went to dim the lights overhead.
Oh, ew. What was this? Mood lighting for nude drawing?
Gag.
“In keeping with the theme of not knowing the subject personally and remaining absolutely objective, the model’s name will not be given. Nor will his face be seen.”
“His?” someone called out.
“Yes. We’ll be drawing the male form this week.”
I had a vivid memory of Stark’s face when we were in bed, tangled up together, and he’d been absolutely adamant I not be looking at some other man’s “cock and balls” for class.
Unable to help it, I smiled.
“If I could have the model,” the professor bellowed.
I heard someone come into the room and close the door behind him. I stiffened, but didn’t look. I was going to get an eyeful soon enough.
“Over this way, please.”
The man stepped into the circle, I peeked over at him and sighed. He was in a pair of black boxers, so not totally naked. There was a bag over his head. It was light colored and didn’t look entirely opaque. Something that was proved by the way he was able to move into the circle to the platform. It wasn’t see-through enough for any of us to be able to make out any of his features, though.
My stomach started doing funny tricks; my nerves grew jittery. I could barely look toward the platform. How was I supposed to stare enough to draw?
A few instructions were given to the class, and then the professor told the model to disrobe. I stayed safely hidden behind the easel and sketchpad, not daring to look.
There were a few murmurs and giggles from the girls nearby, but the professor hushed them instantly.
“Draw!” he announced, as though this were some great tournament or something.
Gripping my pencil, I took a deep breath and leaned around the easel. Please let it be just his butt, I prayed.
It wasn’t.
In fact, the model was pretty much posed so he was facing me… and everything was on full display.
My stomach dropped to my feet, my eyes went wide, and recognition slammed into me so hard I actually leaned back in the chair.
Oh. My. God.
I blinked. Blinked again. It couldn’t be.
It was.
That wasn’t just some new model the professor managed to find at the last minute.
It was Stark.
I didn’t have to see his face, his blue eyes, or the scruffy jaw. I’d recognize his body anywhere. My hands had been all over it just days ago. I’d spent the night wrapped up in his arms.
My fingers started aching horribly, and I glanced down, realizing I’d been gripping the pencil tight. I released it immediately, and the stupid thing fell out of my hand.
It didn’t just stop, though.
No. That damn pencil never did.
It rolled. Right across the uneven wooden floor, right into the circle, directly in front of the platform.
I swallowed, brushing a gaze over Stark again. My heart squeezed. A homesick feeling came over me, so strong I sighed.
“Meier!” the professor yelled from right behind me.
I jumped so forcefully in my chair I almost fell out of it. “Sir?” I said, turning.
“Get your pencil and get to work!”
Standing from the chair, I felt a strong tug inside me as if I were being towed into the center of the room. My foot hit the pencil, and it skidded a little closer to the platform.
Holy shit balls. I could not believe Stark was in this room, naked! How dare he walk in here flaunting his… his…. items for everyone to see? He did this on purpose! He wanted to affect me… and dammit, he was doing a good job.
“I cannot believe you,” I hissed, bending down to pick up the pencil.
His warm, familiar chuckle brushed over me. My hand trembled, and the urge to reach out and stroke his stomach was damn near irresistible.
When I stood, I was practically eye level with his package. I made a choked sound, and Stark’s shoulder’s shook with his effort not to laugh.
“You are so paying for this,” I said under my breath before rushing away.
When I took my seat again, I stared at the paper, not seeing it really, instead reliving all the moments we had together that night and the way his body felt against mine.
“I have to admit,” the girl sitting beside me leaned over to say, “I’d been dreading this assignment for days, but now? I’m not minding the view.”
I gasped. “Get your mind out of the gutter!” I snapped. “Don’t even look at him!”
“Meier!” the professor yelled again. “What is it with you today? Get the hell to work!”
The girl I yelled at was staring at me as though I had five heads. I thought about poking her in the eye with this misbehaving pencil of mine. Then she wouldn’t be able to see Stark and all his naked glory.
The rich, low laughter stopped all my vindictive, jealous thoughts in their tracks. I peeked around the easel again to where Stark still posed, his laughter muffled by the bag.
Oh. He was going to pay for this.