Things That Go Hump In The Night (74 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

The Next Day

I
barely had time to process my thoughts about sleeping with a stranger for the first time in my life. Before I knew it, the sun had come up, my alarm was going off, and it was time to get ready for morning classes.

Standing in front of the mirror, I zoned out as I styled my bangs and put my makeup on slowly and deliberately. It felt strange to have slept with someone like Riker and knew I’d likely never see him again. I couldn’t help but wish that I could have a repeat of last night—which was part of the problem with one-night stands for me.
At least I won’t be tortured by his face everywhere I look. It’s just one night. One memory.

I applied bronzer to my pale skin, lined my eyes with black eyeliner, and ran argan oil through my dark brown hair. Then I stepped back, looking at my reflection.

“Not bad,” I murmured to myself, straightening out my wrap top. It never hurt to look good at art school. “I might even show up the fashion major girls.”

My first class was one I’d looked forward to all summer: my first life drawing course. Up until now, all I’d gotten to draw was still life and landscapes. Today, for the first time, we’d have live models posing for us and we’d get to draw them—nude, of course.
I hope we get to start right away. I’d hate to spend the first class going over the syllabus and supplies.

The supplies I needed for class were heavy, including the large portfolio and a whole case of pencils and charcoal. It was worth it, though—I’d wanted to be an artist for years, and this was my chance to study what I loved. I was only able to do it because of a scholarship fund and trust set up for me by my grandfather, who’d invested wisely years ago. But I had to make these years count if I wanted to succeed as an artist in the real world. It wasn’t an easy profession.

With the portfolio strapped over my shoulder and my supplies swinging over one hand, I set off from my dorm to the arts and drama building, determined to make a good start of my junior year at Belmont College of Arts and Humanities.

He was an ass. He saw you, got you drunk, got in your pants. Don’t let him park in your mind.
I concentrated my focus outward as I walked into the fine arts building, taking note of the new drawings on the wall. Every semester they took down the vast majority of the student artwork hung on the walls and replaced it with more recent—or just better—stuff. The names on the walls were the other students I was competing with; they were in places where I could see myself. I’d taken enough history, English, science, and math credits. It was time to make my mark.

By the spring semester I would be up on those walls. I was absolutely determined.

My life drawing class was in room 1F—down the hallway and on the right. I hesitated briefly before the open doors, then pushed through my nervousness and stepped inside.

About half the easels were taken already, including the choice ones closest to the live model stand.
Great, I should’ve gotten up earlier,
I thought as I picked an easel in the middle of the room.
It looks like we’ll be jumping right into things.

There was no sign of the professor in the classroom, but the easels were a clear message: we’d be getting down to business today, nude model and all.

“Are you nervous?”

I turned to the girl next to me, whose bright brown eyes were wide with anticipation. She had that comfortable artist look about her, from the bright graphic tee she wore to the purple streak in her curly afro. “Nervous about what?”

“The person being… naked and all that.” She laughed uncomfortably.

I shrugged. “Just think of it like another still life or something. I mean, how bad can it be? Just some stranger. And all the great artists work with live models at some point.”

“I guess that’s true.” She fiddled with her pencils, which she’d laid out on the easel tray. “I’m Kayla, by the way.”

“Mara,” I said, reaching down to pull out my Masonite board and place it on the easel. “Nice to meet you. And don’t worry, I’m sure—”

I stopped suddenly, taken back by something I saw. My breath seemed to come out short, and I felt myself freeze.

“What? What is it?” Kayla’s voice was a distant sound, beyond the whooshing in my ears.

Because
he’d
just walked through the door. That asshole with the smart mouth. The guy with no manners.

My one-night stand.

CHAPTER SIX

Over Your Shoulder

Quickly
, I turned my head away from the door and let my hair fall forward over my face, hoping Riker wouldn’t recognize me.
How the hell is he here? Is he a student or something? That’d be just my luck.

But he didn’t take a seat at one of the easels. Instead he sat up front—not at the desk, but the chair next to it. Frantically, I tried to recall the professor’s name for this class.
Ann Hickory.
So there was no way he was the teacher. What, then, was he doing here?

His eyes scanned the classroom, so I looked away, heart pounding.

“Is something wrong?” Kayla asked, her voice too loud for comfort. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I opened my mouth, scrambling for a logical explanation for my reaction, when the professor walked into the room.
Thank god.

“Good morning, everyone. Good to see you’re all here… for the most part.” She took note of the three empty easels as she shut the door behind her. “As they say, the early bird gets the worm, or in this case the best spot in the class. I’ll take role before break—first, I want to introduce myself.”

I briefly glanced towards Riker, only to jump when our eyes met. He stared at me steadily, seemingly unbothered by the fact that I was sitting in the same room as him—almost like he’d expected me. Swallowing, I jerked my eyes back to the professor, determined not to pay him any mind—even though I could feel the heat rising up my neck and towards my cheeks.

“My name is Ann Hickory,” the professor continued, her voice projecting throughout the room. “I studied art at Columbia, lived in London for a few years, then Paris for a few more. I’ve had exhibits at a few different museums—though don’t confuse that for being financially successful. We’re not in it for the money, hmmm?”

Just as she said that, the door opened creakily and a girl walked in, her cheeks burning when she realized she’d interrupted class. We all watched her hurry to an open easel in the back, the sound of her portfolio clanking against the floor loud in the suddenly quiet room.

“Thank you for joining us,” the professor said, her voice icy. Riker got up to close the door, and I surreptitiously studied the clean, masculine lines his profile. In the light of day he looked softer, more put together; the leather jacket was missing and he wore a pair of plain, black-framed glasses that he must need in the classroom. If I closed my eyes, I could still smell him on me.

Concentrate.
I sat up straight and snapped my attention off of him.

“As I was saying, it was lonely being an artist. Especially all the traveling. One day, I decided I was going to settle down, but I didn’t know where. I stumbled upon Belmont on a layover when my flight was cancelled, and the rest is history. The college was kind enough to give me a position. Fifteen years later and here I stand—ready to whip all of you young artists into shape. Any questions?”

Behind her, Riker cleared his throat, the sound a little pointed. Professor Hickory glanced at him, seeming to realize he was sitting there for the first time. “Ah, yes,” she said, her mouth a thin line. “I’d also like you to meet Riker, my TA. He can help you outside of office hours if you have any pressing questions—though I don’t expect you will.

“There’s only one objective in this class: make good art. If you can’t manage that, well… maybe rethink careers.”

Anxiety welled up inside me at her words.
I hope I’m good enough,
I thought, tuning out my surroundings for a moment as I went through the motions of organizing my pencils and erasers.
I don’t know what else I could possibly do with my life.

Kayla raised her hand to ask a question. “Professor Hickory, are we drawing a live model today? When will they arrive?”

“Yes, we are. And to answer your question, he’s already here. Riker will be our first subject.”

Riker
seemed upset at her suggestion.

“With all due respect, Ann—Dr. Hickory,” he said, standing to face her, “I thought that Hillary was coming in today.”

“I emailed you. Or I thought I did,” the professor said, pulling out her phone and muttering at it. “I guess it didn’t go through. Hillary canceled. We’re going to need you again this semester.”

Frowning, Riker pulled her over to the corner behind the desk, out of range of my (nosy) hearing. I turned to my supplies, peeling off a fresh piece of drawing paper and pinning it to the board with artist’s tape.

“I can’t believe he’s going to pose for us,” Kayla said, her voice hushed to a whisper. “I mean, a hot guy? Really?”

“Yeah, it seems so.” The last thing I needed this morning was a refresher course on Riker’s abs. They were burned
well
into my memory, along with other parts of him. Other very unforgettable parts.

“Alright class,” Professor Hickory said, walking over to the lights and dimming them substantially, “for this first exercise, don’t try to do too much value work or shading. Keep it light,
gestural.
Riker will move every two minutes, giving you plenty of opportunity to study up on your weaknesses. And I’ll be coming around the room to see your progress and critique it.”

Critique
—the word I seemed to hear a thousand times a semester. In the corner, Riker seemed to be stripping. I could feel tension welling up in me at the thought of him standing a few feet away, completely naked, while I stared at him intensely. Nothing in the world could have been more humiliating.

Stepping towards the platform in the center of the room, the professor turned on a few lamps and lit it up.

“Oh, and class—our model will be wearing his underwear, but don’t let that stop you from getting imaginative. You’ll be expected to draw
many
sets of genitals this semester. Best to get it out of the way upfront.”

Uncomfortable snickers spread through the class. I heard Kayla give a big sigh of relief at the news he wouldn’t be fully naked; I more than shared that feeling, considering how awkward it would be to see him naked again.
Maybe this won’t be so difficult after all.
I just had to ignore the obvious chemistry between us. Easier said than done.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Nude

If
there was one thing Riker hadn’t counted on that morning, it was that he’d have to publicly strip down to his briefs and stand in front of the girl he’d slept with just the night before.

At least he’d been prepared; it was a habit of his to check over the class roster every morning, and he’d recognized Mara’s name. He’d also known there was a chance the model wouldn’t show today. This wasn’t the first time Hillary no-showed and he had to cover for her.

But I didn’t expect that both would happen on the same day,
he thought as he pulled off his pants
.
Thankfully he’d convinced Ann to let him leave his briefs on and dim the lights as much as possible, with the spots focused on his chest.
Every time I pose for her class, she gets more clothes off of me somehow.
The woman was a fiend.

It was time. Striding over to the platform in the middle of the room, Riker stepped into the light and considered his options.
Might as well go for it.
Smirking at what he imagined Mara’s uptight face would look like, he turned to face her direction and jutted out his hips, everything about him front and center towards her.

Though she hid her face behind a thick curtain of hair, he could
smell
her embarrassment. She was a prissy girl for sure, especially now that the alcohol had cleared her system. Mara glanced over at him—she had to, after all—and her eyes rested on his body with clear lust. Riker had to hold at bay the deep purr that threatened to bubble out of his chest.
I bet I could convince her to fuck me again.
He did enjoy making her blush.
Too bad it would be a mistake.

At this point in his life, he had no interested in pursuing a relationship with anybody. Riker was a casual lay kind of guy—he never stuck with the same woman twice if he could help it. A beast prowled inside him, its desires primitive and strange. To its feline nature, a woman twice taken was a reproductive mate. That had become a problem the first time Riker slept with someone after returning from the Cave of Sorrows. Despite his determination to never see the girl again, the beast was determined to get a cub on her, and so he found himself following her everywhere to keep other males away. One fist fight with a ‘roided out idiot convinced him never to make that mistake again.

A little bit of flirting wouldn’t hurt, though.
And who knew—maybe that first time was a blip on the radar. He had better control now; surely he could keep the beast in check.

In front of him, Mara was engrossed in her drawing. He could tell that she had great passion for her art, like most of the students at Belmont College of Arts and Humanities. There was a smudge of charcoal under her left eye that she hadn’t noticed, and she seemed to have forgotten any awkwardness between them.

For a moment, Riker indulged himself in a bit of self-pity. He knew he would never be allowed to have a passion that deep for
anything
he loved. It was only a matter of time before everything was lost to him.

But the moment passed. He couldn’t pity himself with her beautiful face right in front of him.
It’s settled,
he thought, knowing he couldn’t resist her.
The beast will have to wait its turn. I want one more night with her—just one. And then I’m sure I’ll have her out of my system.

After all, it wasn’t like she was special.

I
could almost swear his package seemed to get a little…
bigger.

It happened in a moment, but just as quickly passed.
He better not be getting an erection,
I thought, my face burning.
It’s just my imagination.

Even beneath the confines of his briefs, Riker sported a clearly large member.

“Alright, take a two minute break. Riker, make sure you stretch. I don’t want you stiffening up on us like last time.”

I almost choked at her choice in words.

“No worries, professor. I’ll take a walk around the block.”

He slipped on a terrycloth robe she handed him—something for the models to wear between long sessions, I supposed. Like the rest of the students, I took this opportunity to stretch my back and shoulders, which were sore from such a long time spent sitting on a stool.

“Can you believe him?” Kayla leaned over, her voice hushed so Riker couldn’t hear her. “I wanna lick those abs. And the tattoos. Yum yum.”

“Yeah, I guess he’s attractive,” I admitted. “Probably a jerk though.”

Riker flicked his eyes over in my direction. I knew it wasn’t possible, but it almost seemed like he
heard
me talking about him.

“How can you know if he’s a jerk?” Kayla asked, watching him walk out of the classroom. “He could be a humanitarian or something.”

I snorted. “Sure, I bet he saves kitties from trees, too.”

“Whatever, I’m not looking for a boyfriend.” She sighed, sounding lonely. “What about you? Are you single?”

“Yeah.” This conversation was getting tedious for me—there was nothing I hated more than a pity party. “Yep, no boyfriend here.”

“Really? A girl as pretty as you, single?”

I jumped, startled at a stranger’s voice behind me. One of the male students had sidled up behind us, eavesdropping on our conversation. He smiled at me, clearly thinking he was suave.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Danny.” He held out his hand. All I could do was stare at it hanging there, a frown creasing my lips.

“I’m Mara,” I said, “and this is—”

But Kayla had disappeared to the other side of the room to sharpen her pencils. I frowned at her back.

“I think she saw what was happening between us and decided to give us some space.” He leaned towards me and I instinctively leaned away. “Good friend.”

There was something slimy about this guy. I wasn’t sure what exactly dinged my sensors, but it wasn’t just the fact that he had limp, greasy hair and a slight… odor. He was
off.

“You know, I think I better concentrate on my work.” Sitting back down on my stool, I picked up a pencil and stared intently at my drawing. All around us, the room was emptying as people stepped out for bathroom breaks and gossip in the hallway. “I think I could refine things over here.”

Instead of taking the hint, Danny stepped closer to me, his breath whispering against my cheek. “You made him look
way
more muscular than he really is.” Reaching out, he brushed my hand with his own. “I can help.”