She stood there, focused inward, aware that they were all looking at her body. Studying it. Putting it down on paper.
It’s sort of like being immortalised. The thought flickered through her mind and then she let it go.
She could do this. She was doing this.
* * *
Dani felt eyes on her. Of course she did. Many, many eyes. But when she’d come back from her fifteen-minute break a bit calmer, not so incredibly freaked out by the exposure of the whole situation, she felt a particular set of eyes.
Chris had asked her not to make eye contact. To try and act as if the class wasn’t there at all. ‘Look off into the distance like the maidens in the classic works of art,’ he’d said with a small smile.
She’d snorted with amusement. To even try and put herself in that category, even to get into a mindset, was laughable.
Chris tugged a piece of her hair and she heard herself gasp like a scandalised maiden. ‘You can do it,’ he said, ‘You know what I mean.’
He’d gone back to the classroom then, leaving her in the hall to walk and stretch her muscles. She touched the end of that lock of hair, feeling the surge of heat and pain and then the little blip of pleasure all over again. He hadn’t tugged her hair in … too many years to count.
Back in the classroom she’d kept her eyes pinned to that land of far off. She occasionally glanced at Chris but he was studiously not looking at her. Was that for her comfort or because he didn’t want to see? She had no idea.
When she became aware of what felt like a steady, intense gaze boring into her, the fine hairs along her arms stirred. She used all her self-control not to look, until finally she did. All the crazy stuff Cheryl had said to her about affairs and no strings and all that madness had come back to her. She looked. She couldn’t stand it.
Man bun was staring.
She blinked slowly and then tried to pull her gaze back from his. It was almost impossible. Dark-brown eyes, so dark they seemed like they could swallow her up. His equally dark hair was tied up at the back in a modern day hipster samurai bun. She should have found it amusing. He was probably five or six years her junior. But the whole package – the broad shoulders, the bun, the liquid ink eyes, and then he tossed in a half-smile – was pretty spectacular.
He cocked an eyebrow at her and she was severely aware of that wetness between her thighs returning. With a vengeance.
She was almost out the door, on her way to her car. Dani had a hankering for a big-ass glass of wine, hell, maybe a bottle. The adrenalin rush had reemerged when she’d been told to put her clothes back on. She’d done it. She had actually fucking done it. She found herself clutching her tote bag and her purse with trembling fingers and her legs felt made of wet spaghetti.
‘Hello?’
She turned, one hand rising to her chest to cover her thumping heart, because this hall had no other classes this evening and he’d scared the hell out of her.
Man bun.
‘Um … oh, hi. Sorry, you scared me.’
‘Sorry.’ He shoved his hands into the pockets of his faded skinny jeans. No doubt very expensive jeans that were manipulated and abused to look as if they’d received years of steady use to make them soft and distressed. ‘Wasn’t my intention.’
She nodded, waiting, heart now pounding like some wild tribal drum. What was this?
‘I don’t usually do this …’ He trailed off. She saw, despite his confident personal fashion and roguish straying eyebrow, he was rather shy.
‘Do what?’ she prompted.
He chuckled. It was a lovely self-deprecating, deep sound. ‘Confuse women in the hallway.’ He sighed, leaning against a locker and regarded her. ‘What I meant to say is I don’t usually see women out of their clothes until after I’ve asked them out. This time I’m reversing it. Asking out a woman I’ve already seen out of her clothes.’
‘You don’t know my name,’ she said, stupidly.
‘You could fix that. You could tell me.’
‘Dani,’ she said. ‘Dani Young.’
‘Kevin Buck,’ he said, holding out a hand. ‘But I did know your name, remember? The prof told us.’
She took it but a small laugh escaped her. She had forgotten. Entirely. ‘Buck?’
He nodded, eyes shining with amusement. ‘Yep. Buck. I’ve gotten them all. Young Buck, Don’t give a Buck, Quick Buck …’
‘I’m sorry.’ She shook and released, uncomfortable with how much she liked the feel of his hand on hers. ‘I’ve just never heard that name before. I wasn’t making judgement. Sorry about the names too …’
He shook his head, took a step back as if to show her how harmless and charming he was. ‘No big deal. It could have been worse. A lot worse. So about that proposal of mine …’
‘Going out?’
‘A drink maybe?’
‘When?’ Had she just asked when? She’d meant to say no.
‘Wednesday after class?’
Dani swallowed hard. Cheryl’s voice was echoing in her head. Her encouragement to explore. When she opened her mouth again she heard herself say, ‘Yes. Sure. That’s great.’
He nodded – it was nearly a bow – and the samurai bun bobbed. She smiled. A few small tendrils had escaped, and she imagined he liked it like that, but she had the urge to tuck them back into the artfully messy mass he’d created. And to see if his hair was as soft as it looked.
Instead, she pushed her hands into her jacket pocket and said, ‘I’ll see you at class, then.’
‘Absolutely,’ he said. ‘Maybe when I’m done I can show you my sketch of you.’
‘Oh, I don’t think I want to see that.’
There went that errant eyebrow again.
She cleared her throat. ‘What I mean is, I don’t want to see myself. It makes me … twitchy. There’s a better chance I’ll stick with this if I don’t see myself. If I see myself on paper from someone else’s perspective … I’d probably not like it. It would probably upset me.’
Why was she telling him this? Nerves. It was the only answer she had.
He moved a little closer and brushed her shoulder with his palm. ‘It makes me sad to hear that. Maybe one day you’ll change your mind,’ he said. ‘You’re spectacular.’
The next thing she knew she was pushing out into the chilly night. It felt like they’d
