TMI. I laugh uncomfortably because she’s closer to the truth than she realizes. “No, although, he is pretty sexy.” Professor Hale is only a couple years older than us and has dark brown hair, deep, soulful eyes, and a perpetual five o’clock shadow. Who wouldn’t love that combination?
“Heck yeah, he is!” She grows quiet again, her gaze holding mine as if she’s trying to pluck the information out of my head. Then she starts rattling off the names of every guy we’ve ever run into, from Billy, the bartender at DJ’s, to some guy I went out on one date with two years ago. When she’s exhausted all her options, her look turns pleading.
“Just tell me,” she hisses, desperate for information. “I swear on a stack of Holy Bibles I won’t tell a soul.” I sip my soda, making her tough it out a little longer. “If you’re not going to tell me, then please just shoot me and put me out of my misery.”
I laugh, and then decide what’s the worst that could happen? Leaning in, I make sure to keep my voice low so no one overhears us. “It’s…Professor Scott.”
“No!”
“Yes.” I nod.
“No way!”
“Yes way.”
She sits back, stunned for a few minutes, and now that the cat is out of the bag we let it marinate. Finally, she blinks a few times, takes a drink of her soda, and gives me a look that tells me I’m not going to like what she’s about to say. “I hope you know that you have to pose nude now.”
***
Annie is relentless. She’s buzzing in my ear every chance she gets about signing up for the nude art program. I’ll admit that I’m intrigued by the concept, and even briefly considered it a possibility, but the more she pressures me, the less sure I become.
What if I know someone there? The main reason I’ve been able to dance at all is because I’ve never run into anyone—save Ransom—that I know. The anonymity is crucial, which is the purpose of the type of lighting I’ve chosen. If it ever happens to chance that someone I do know is in the audience, at least I won’t know about it.
Annie’s push to get me to do this just reinforces that fear. If I pose, then someone is going to recognize me, whether from before or after the class. And then what do I do?
Yet, even though I’m resisting, I still don’t have the first clue what I’m going to do for my final project. To be honest, I haven’t even given it any serious thought. I won’t lie. Having one ready to go fall into my lap is tempting.
As the week progresses, I watch each of my classmates add their name to the list Ransom posted declaring their final project. Between classes and work and dealing with questions surrounding my love life, I’m so exhausted, I can’t think straight, and the pressure is beginning to set in.
Which is why, when I find myself walking into Mrs. Jackson’s art lab Wednesday morning, I blame everything on Annie.
I find Mrs. Jackson behind an easel working diligently. She’s not like the other teachers. Her red hair is a few shades too bright to be real, her clothes too eclectic to be conservative, and the tattoos decorating one arm too everything to truly fit in with the rest of the professors. But that’s probably the point. She’s declared herself a misfit, and I take an immediate liking to her.
When she sees me come in, she sets down her paintbrush and wipes her hands off on a paper towel. “Are you here for the sculpting class?”
“Um, no.” My smile is faint. I’m not used to feeling so nervous, especially when fully clothed. “I was wondering if the spot for the model is still open.”
Her look turns questioning before a sudden smile spills across her face. “Oh, the nude model. Yes, yes, come on in.” She waves for me to follow her to her desk, where she hands me a clipboard and a pen. “You’re just in time. We only have a few slots left.”
My hand trembles and I talk myself out of doing this a half-dozen times as I fill in my name at the bottom of the paper. This is such a bad idea. Why am I doing this? Oh, yeah. Annie. I’m blaming it all on Annie. “There are a lot of names on there,” I comment as I slide the clipboard back across her desk. Thankfully, I don’t recognize any of them.
Her smile grows wider. “Yes, it’s a very popular program. Unfortunately, we had to cut back on participants this year.”
“Why’s that?” I ask curiously as we begin slowly walking back toward the door.
“The university cut funding to some of the programs this year. As this is one of the few paying gigs on campus, it was one of the first on the chopping block.”
Stopping in my tracks, I turn to her. “Paying gig?”
“Yes.” Her head cants to the side, and she frowns. “Each model gets a hundred dollars for their time and a gift certificate to Jed’s.”
So free dinner and cash. Suddenly, my earlier concerns don’t seem as pressing.
“You didn’t know?”
I shake my head. “I had no idea.”
“Well, I’m sure now that you do it takes some of the scariness out of it.”
I grin. “That’s very true.”
“Do you have any questions for me?”
“None that I can think of.” But I do have the sudden urge to give Annie a hug and thank her for pushing me. “Thanks for your time.”
“No problem. Enjoy your evening.”
I rush home in a better mood than I’ve been in weeks. The boost of adrenalin gets me through a full night of work and even earns me extra tips. The high carries over into the next day, too. Something Ransom seems to pick up on. He smiles more, directs more of his attention to my side of the room. Even Annie notices, nudging me each time he does it.
Maybe she was paying a little too close attention, though, or I wasn’t paying enough attention to her. I might have seen that she was up to something, but I didn’t. When she lingers after class, I figure she has another question to ask about an assignment.
I don’t expect her to ask Ransom out.
“It’s just a little get-together with friends. Nothing fancy.”
Ransom casts a brief look at me over her shoulder, and I try to communicate my extreme dislike of this turn of events, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Thankfully, he’s on the same page. “I’m sorry, Miss Guerra, I appreciate the offer, but it’s probably best if I don’t.”
“Is this because you’re a teacher? Because you’ve gotta eat, right? If anyone asks, we can tell them it’s a study group.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “A study group. At a bar.”
“Of course. It would be incredibly inappropriate to hold it at your house. This is a public place. No one could question your intent.”
I completely disagree with her. I doubt if the dean or someone higher up saw one of the instructors sharing drinks with the student body that they’d look very highly on it.
“I still think I’d better take a pass,” Ransom insists, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Well, we’ll save a seat just in case you change your mind,” Annie presses on. “Even professors have to eat.”
Ransom and I share a look as Annie breezes by me on her way out the door. Mine is a warning that he’d better not show up tonight. I don’t know what his is.
The second I step outside, I grab Annie’s elbow and wheel her around. “What are you doing?”
Her smile is devious. It knocks me back a step because nothing about Annie is devious. At least, I never thought it was. “You might claim that it’s done between you two, but I know better. I don’t know how I never noticed it before, but you two are totally in love!”
My head snaps back and my nose scrunches at the accusation. “We are not!”
“Are too! You two can’t keep your eyes off each other. I swear, even with air conditioning, it was a sauna in there today. Hell, you practically burned my clothes off.”