Beneath The Skin(56)

“Oh … my … god,” he sighs, all his muscles relaxing in my clutch.

As my hand comes to a stop and we turn into two statues standing here in this room, we breathe slowly and observe our contribution to the room, which rests in squiggly ropes and coils of Brant’s seed on the video wall.

“A fine work of art,” I murmur quietly, bringing my chin to his shoulder and leaning into him.

“You’re very … very skilled with your hand,” he notes, out of breath.

“You’re skilled with your eyes.”

Chains have appeared around the couple, binding them and pulling them even closer to one another. Then cuffs appear at their ankles, locking them together even more. Soon, the lovers seem to kiss so deeply that their faces literally crush into one another in slow motion. Their display of love has quickly grown into some creepy avant-garde horror show.

Renée, you’re one sick duck.

“I should probably clean off the wall,” says Brant.

I scoff at that. “Your jizz is an improvement to this crap show,” I assure him, then give his sleeve a tug. “Pull up your pants. I’ve had enough of this insufferable woman’s work.”

The next instant, we’re out of the doors and another excited couple of people enter behind us. Brant and I share a look, then burst into laughter on our way out of the gallery.





BRANT



Her lips are so sexy, I imagine them consuming mine and kissing me without reprieve until I’m completely deprived of air.

What a beautiful way to suffocate.

“So … I don’t know if this is too soon, but—”

“But what?” she asks.

I smile. I love how enthusiastic she sounds. This isn’t the Nell who sent me on a walk of shame out of her loft the other night. “Well, I kinda got a text in the gallery before I found you. Turns out, my roommate Dmitri is going to some cast party with Eric and the others, so my place is kinda … unoccupied for the rest of the night. They usually stay over there until well past three or four, so …”

“So you have the place to yourself,” she finishes.

“I have the place to myself,” I affirm.

We make our way down the dimly-lit streets back to campus, where we cut across to make our way to my side of town. This late at night, the University Center looks almost creepy, asleep with its windows darkened and the trees so still, they could be fake props in another badly-directed play.

However, my present company makes the walk anything but scary. We laugh about all of the different exhibits we saw at the gallery, and although I thought most of them were pretty bad-ass, I give in to her cynicism on some of them, laughing at how desperately the works of art tried to shock us or make us cringe or unsettle our souls.

Nell’s done a good enough job unsettling my pants.

When we hit the courtyard of the theater where I’d just been earlier tonight, my phone buzzes. I bring it to my face and find a most annoying message greeting my eyes.



DMITRI





Creepers at the party.





Not fun.





So Eric & I are heading back.





Want us to pick up some Taco Bell for you?





I stop in my tracks. So much for that plan. Fuck.

“What’s up?” prods Nell.

“Damn roommates are heading back already,” I gripe, then tap my thumbs to respond.





ME





Not unless they got





PINK TACOS ON THE MENU.





Thanks a bunch, cockblockers





>_<





“I have an idea.”

I lift my face from the phone. “Yeah?”

Nell smiles devilishly, then wiggles her eyebrows. “Follow me.”

Dmitri buzzes a reply, but it’s lost in my pocket as I stow away my phone and follow Nell back across the courtyard. In a minute, we’re heading around the back of the School of Art, opposite from the wing that houses the art gallery where certain school-sponsored showcases are held. Following a line of long windows that terminate at an inset in the building, we arrive at a door hiding in the shadows.

Nell grips the handle, lifts it up high with all her weight, then jerks it open. The hinges creak in protest. “Kelsey never locks it,” she admits.

“Who’s Kelsey?”

“Who cares?” She holds the door open. “After you.”

I pass through, coming into the back of a dark art studio. With the stray light from the pathway lamps outside washing in through the long windows, I see the creepy silhouettes of easels scattered around the room like a bunch of odd, pointy creatures in the dark.

The door slams shut behind me. I turn around. For a second, I think Nell is about to come up and tackle me to the ground. Instead, she walks past me and says, “Come on, camera boy.”