Pushing the Limits(16)

We were so carefree and happy in those days. It's bittersweet to think  about now. My chest tightens as I think about those memories. Although  they're happy ones, I hate that they're all I have of her. I miss  everything about her, even when she was bossing me around and making me  be the villain as we watched Disney movies.

And just like that, I knew exactly what to draw.





I tune everything out and hardly notice Professor Hampton walking around  even when he's watching me. I'm drawing the water, making it look like  it's in the paper and the rock is on top of the paper, just as Ellie  leans over my shoulder and gasps.

"I love that!"

She really has no boundaries. "Thanks. I haven't even drawn the mermaid yet."

"Doesn't matter. That fucking rocks."

I smile just as I look up and see Professor Hampton standing next to us. "What is it?" He tilts his head and furrows his brows.

"Wow, rude much?" I sneer, cracking a smile. "Like I said … " I turn toward Ellie and scowl. "It's not done yet."

"It's not bad," he says half-impressed.

"Not bad?" Ellie gasps. "Then for the love of all that's holy, don't look at mine."

I laugh, avoiding eye contact with Professor Hampton. "It's the Little  Mermaid," I explain. "I'm going to draw her body on the rock up here and  then cut the paper out around her so it looks like she's coming right  at you."

He nods, staring intently at the paper. "Try going deeper with the water  to exaggerate the rock's placement. Then widen the rocks surrounding  the water so you can really see the depth of it."

"All right. Thanks." I flash a small smile.

A faint, amused grin appears on his face as he winks before walking over to another student.

Students begin packing up and heading out as soon as it's eight o'clock.  I'm right in the middle of drawing the mermaid's tail and failing  miserably at it.

"I've never seen anyone curse at a Disney character before," I hear from behind.

"Well, then you haven't known me long enough. I always verbally abuse my work before I finish."

"That's an interesting concept, however … " I hear the sardonic tone in his words. "Let's try this."

My heart jumps a beat as I feel him behind me, pressing his chest into  my back. He grabs my right hand and wraps his around it with the pencil  in between our fingers. The simple action sends a lightning bolt through  my fingertips straight to my heart, and for a brief second, I swear I  can feel it beating harder, louder, and faster. I close my eyes for a  moment, wondering if he feels the intense electricity between us, too.

"The scales on the tail should be angled this way. The illusion should  make it look like her tail is wrapped around the rock. So essentially  she's on top of the rock that's sitting on top of the paper." He moves  our hands to show me where to shade in the scales. "Make sense?"

I can barely comprehend a word he's saying with him so close to me. My  body is humming as I feel his muscles contract against my skin when he  brushes the pencil over the paper.

Oh, sweet Jesus … I need to breathe. I don't think I've exhaled since he started talking thirty seconds ago.

"Aspen?" he questions again.

I clear my throat, releasing a breath. "Um … " I blink, trying to think of  something smart to say, but nothing is coming to mind. My mind is  literally blank.

"Here … " he offers, gripping my hand tighter as his other hand wraps  around my waist and squeezes my hip. My eyes widen in a holy shit  expression as I try to calm myself down. "Ninety-degree angles … see? Then  shade the tail in over here."         

     



 

"Okay … " I choke out, gulping. My eyelids feel like they're taped against  my skin as I try to comprehend how close our bodies are together. I  inhale and can smell him. And it's oh so fucking delicious. Christ. I  need to focus. "I think I understand. Thank you."

Our bodies are still fused together, our hands still touching. "You're welcome."

The room is so silent I can hear the vent above us blowing out air. His  breath tickles my neck. I'm two seconds away from spinning around and  slamming my lips against his. Especially since I can feel his distinct  bulge against my lower back, confirming he's struggling with the same  forbidden attraction as I am.

Moments later, reality crashes back into my mind, and I know making out  with my really hot art professor would be a really bad-but really  hot-thing. The only reason I came out to California, besides needing to  get away from home, was because I was offered a partial scholarship. My  parents offered to pay for my entire education if I went to a college  closer to home, but I wanted nothing to do with that idea. I didn't want  their money or any ties to them at all. I don't know the exact rules of  my scholarship, but I'm pretty certain having an affair with your  professor is grounds for losing your scholarship and possibly being  expelled.

"Well, I'll continue this next class," I finally say, breaking the tension. "Thanks again for your help."

He releases his hand and steps away from me. "No problem. It's kind of my job."

"Right." I turn and smile at him before grabbing the easel and drawing to store away.

He walks to his desk and collects his stuff as I pack up my supplies and  start heading out. "Have a nice night, Professor Hampton."

He looks up, a flustered expression on his face. "You as well, Aspen."





MORGAN



As soon as my hand slides against her smooth skin, all rational thinking  leaves my mind. I know I shouldn't be crossing the lines with a  student, but with Aspen, I can't help myself.

How is it that a girl with so much talent, so much beauty, is filled  with so much pain? I know she hasn't told me much, but it's enough to  figure out. Her sister died years ago, leaving her feeling empty and  bitter. She uses art and solitude as a way to cope, to express her  emotions and feelings, but she has this uniqueness about her. Every time  I see her, she's glowing. Her smile, her laugh, her body language. It's  as if she's strong on the outside, but falling apart on the inside. I  can tell because I've been doing the same for five years.

Five years too long.

I think about her all day Friday, and once Natalia goes to bed, I head  downstairs to where I've packed away all of my art supplies for the past  six months. My paints, pastels, canvases, and brushes-they are all  here, mocking me. I've avoided it all this time, unable to connect with  anything other than anger.

I used to paint a lot back in Ohio, relieved to have the fresh start. I  used that optimistic feeling as a guide to create new inspirations.  However, after Ryan's death, I hadn't been able to focus on anything at  all. I only thought of him. Then I'd see his face in my mind and be  absolutely disgusted with myself that I allowed so much time to pass  before we could make amends. But now that time was useless. I waited too  long, and I hated myself for it.

I get out my old easel that I had tucked away. I set my old brushes and  tubes of paint up and stare at the blank canvas in front of me.

Blank canvas.

That's what being back in California truly represents. That's what I need to stay focused on.

In fact, it's what Natalia and I should both be focusing on.

I only hope it's good enough to actually help her move on-to help us  both move on. However, six months wasn't that long ago, and I know  she'll be hurting and grieving for years, but it's something we need to  work on together.

You should try it sometimes … you might surprise yourself.

Aspen's words repeat in my head as I look at the canvas. Taking a  breath, I close my eyes and search for the courage to paint again.  Moments later, I open my eyes to the same blank canvas and no desire to  change it.

Frustrated, I throw the brushes down and walk out. I know Aspen's  probably right. If I can get out of my cluttered mind and connect my  frustration and anger to that creative side of myself-the part that  takes control when the brush is in my hand as if it's another extension  of myself-I could use it as the motivation to paint again, but it's just  not there.

I head back upstairs and undress before getting into the shower. After  the day I've had, and the intense encounter with Aspen, I need a cold  shower. I've never had someone affect me the way she does, especially a  student. I've always been professional and kept my distance, but she's  making it nearly impossible, even though I know I should be making more  of an effort.         

     



 

As I wash my body, thoughts of her in those leopard print fuck me heels  and tight painted on jeans surface, and I feel myself getting hard  again.

Just as I remind myself that I need to be more careful around her, I  find myself lost in thoughts of her. My mind goes blank on what's right  and wrong, and my body happily responds to the image of her.

Her voice, her lips, her soft skin.

It all taunts me as I try to think of anything but her. Unable to erase  thoughts of her from my mind, my hand reaches down and grabs my cock,  stroking it back to life. I know it's wrong and that I shouldn't be  fantasizing about her, but fuck it. I haven't been able to stop thinking  about her since the moment I first saw her. Hell, since the moment I  started looking through her portfolio. The emotion she pours into her  work and the way it captivates me is something I can't explain.