I feel a hand on my shoulder and jerk around so quickly the paintbrush between my fingers follows. A streak of blue paint wipes across Professor Hampton's face before I even realize it's happened.
"Oh my God!" My eyes go wide as I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment. I quickly yank my earbuds out. "I'm so sorry!" I lower my hand and examine the damage.
He smiles and a small laugh escapes his throat as he blinks. "Guess I deserved that."
I frown. "It wasn't on purpose."
"Never sneak up on a painter," he confirms. "Sorry about that. I was trying not to startle you, but apparently, my plan failed."
"It's fine," I assure him. "I wasn't expecting anyone to come in yet."
"Yeah, I figured I'd come early and prepare." He smiles that crooked, drop-your-panties and beg-for-it smile, sending a rush of excitement through me. I've had some amazing professors in the past, but they've never made me feel as nervous to be around them as he does.
I can feel his breath against my bare arm, alerting me to take a step back. I put the brush down and look away. I start cleaning up my supplies, but I feel him grip my wrist and squeeze.
"Wait."
I turn to look at him staring at the painting. I swallow at the intensity of his voice and eyes. His hand stays wrapped around my wrist as he stares intently at it, almost as if he's examining every detail.
"You started this just today?"
"Yeah, about an hour ago." I look back at the painting. "It's a rough start. Something I did on a whim."
He releases my wrist and smiles at me. "It's stunning. The contrast between the warm and cool colors really catches your attention, drawing you into the tones. It's almost like they are forcing you to feel the agony and heartache she's feeling from her struggles."
"Thank you." I lower my head to hide the blush creeping over my cheeks. When I need to get out of my own head, I just start painting. Getting lost in whatever piece I'm working on helps me cope. It's the only non-medical thing that keeps my anxiety under control. "I was trying to show her two contradicting personalities by putting them side by side," I explain.
"So she's struggling with inner demons but doesn't reveal it on the outside?" he asks, intrigued, and I nod.
"There's a struggle with who she wants to be on the outside and what she feels on the inside."
"Sounds intense." His lips tilt down slightly into a frown. "I love it, Aspen. Would you mind if I kept it in the classroom to exhibit for a bit?"
I look down and bite my lip. I slowly bring my head back up, his eyes trying to read me. "Um … " I hesitate. "Actually, it's kind of personal."
"I won't tell anyone it's yours." He grins slyly, and I find myself having a hard time resisting those damn dimples.
"Okay, so if anyone asks … " I prompt.
"I'll claim it's a student from the old college I used to teach at. Someone named … " He pauses briefly. "Regina Hopintale."
I bite my lip to keep myself from laughing but fail. "Thanks."
His lips curl up even higher, showing off his dimples again. Lord, those dimples are like fresh strawberries covered in melted chocolate. They look so delicious and perfect that you can't deny the explosive flavor once it hits your tongue.
Oh my God … did I just compare my professor's dimples to chocolate covered strawberries?
I seriously need to get some fresh air. Or perhaps a second pair of panties.
He walks to the front of the classroom, setting his briefcase down on the desk. I clean up my area and put my supplies away before the first few students walk in.
"How's it goin'?" Ellie asks in that southern twang of hers as soon as she sits down in the chair next to mine.
"You're surprisingly early … " I narrow my eyes at her suspiciously.
"Not that early … " she denies, her cheeks turning a soft red.
"Does this have anything to do with that guy over there eye-fucking you?" I noticed it during our first class. He stares at her every chance he gets.
"Who? Kyle Simmons?" She pretends to not notice him as she digs through her supplies bag.
I playfully scowl at her. "I don't know his name! But it's apparent you do."
"We might've had a couple classes together last semester."
"And?" I prompt, knowing there's so much more to the story.
"And … " She lingers. "We might've hooked up at a party."
"So you came to class early to what? Have a staring contest?"
She wrinkles her nose at me. "No … I don't know. It's just once class starts, the easel will block my view."
"So … go sit next to him. Wouldn't that solve your problem?"
"Oh, bless your heart, Aspen." I furrow my brows, confused. "He should come sit next to me. It'd be the gentlemanly thing to do." She crosses her legs and folds her hands in her lap.
"Ah … " I say, it finally clicking. "So what you really want is to eye-fuck him and play hard to get until he makes the initiative to come talk to you?"
"Is that too much to ask?"
I laugh at her sharp-witted southern accent. "Oh, so you were ready to jump on the professor in a heartbeat, but Kyle needs to be a southern gentleman and come to you?"
"That's exactly right," she answers sharply. I shake my head and smile at her.
Soon, class begins, and I watch Professor Hampton walk around the front of the room and discuss our assignment. I should be listening, but my mind wanders to the abstract I painted earlier. The one that portrays her inner demons …
It'd been raining all night long, and eventually, the storm woke me up. A flash of lighting temporarily blinded me as I squinted, trying to see if Ari was awake. Her bed was empty and the light in the hallway peeked under our bedroom door.
I threw the covers off and opened the door, deciding to tiptoe down the hallway to see where she had gone. "Ariel?" I whispered. I stood in front of the bathroom door that was closed, but I knew she had to be in there. "Ariel, you in here?" I knocked lightly.
Silence.
I slowly opened the door, hoping I wasn't interrupting her, but when I stepped in, my entire world stopped. "Oh my God, Ariel!" I ran to her where she lay on the cold bathroom floor, blood running down her hand and fingers. "Ariel, wake up!" I screamed, pulling her into my lap.
I grabbed a towel from the hook and wrapped it around her wrist. A razor blade lay next to her, covered in dried blood. Tears fell down my cheeks faster than I could wipe them off. I couldn't understand what was happening … why had she done it?
Why hadn't I known she was hurting?
The sound of chairs sliding on the floor knocks me out of my past nightmare. Everyone's hustling to grab their easels and spread out their supplies. I grab my project that we started last class after our memory exercise and drown in my thoughts as I keep my eyes down and to the canvas in front of me. Professor Hampton continues walking around, but I don't need to glance up to know he's studying me from the front of the room.
Before we're dismissed, he reminds us to keep an eye out for his email about our first blog assignment.
I have a feeling Professor Hampton is going to take up much more of my time than I suspected.
CHAPTER FOUR
ASPEN
The sound of my alarm wakes me up and before I can even manage to open my eyes, I reach for my phone and tap on the screen until the noise stops. It's Saturday, and I have to be at work in less than an hour, but the heavy weight lying next to me reminds me that I'm not alone.
Jake, or maybe it was John, is a guy I met during happy hour, and when two drinks turned into four and six, I invited him back to my place.
But I don't have time to casually escort him out and exchange numbers-not that I'd give him mine anyway. That's not how this works. I avoid any kind of attachment, friendship, or even a fuck buddy. I don't feel that compassion toward relationships that most women do. I can't be open, discuss my feelings, or have ‘talks' about my past. It's the exact reason I avoid it all in the first place. One-night stands and casual hookups are all I'm emotionally capable of giving.
I need to shower and leave before I'm late to work again. So I slide out of bed¸ grab my towel hanging on the back of the door, and walk to the bathroom.
He has exactly forty-two minutes to leave before I kick him out.
I wash my body and hair, trying to remember the events of last night.
Kendall and Zoe met me at Happy Joe's for the two-for-one happy hour special.
It was only meant to be a quick, fun girls' night out, but it soon turned into a party of six after Kendall invited her boyfriend, Kellan.
Jake, or John, was there with a friend from work-some name that I can't remember either-and I can only assume Zoe took him home after Kendall and I left.