little fantasy, that her crush on the model might actually turn into a Christmas romance, was a gift in and of itself. There was no way it was actually happening—Ben was so far out of her league it wasn’t funny—but a girl could dream, and for that dream to remain a PG-13 Hallmark romance fantasy, she wouldn’t be drawing the sex lines on his lower abdomen. Or any other part of his lower anything.
She clipped two photographs she’d taken of her previous days’ drawings to the side of her board for reference. They looked pretty good in miniature, but she’d fucked up the joint, so today, her goal was to get that right first, before getting into all the glorious muscle details.
So intent was her goal to stick to the art that she didn’t realize until the class was almost over that Ben was avoiding looking at her.
Some models made more eye contact than others, but Ben didn’t seem to have any problem looking at anyone else, responding to directions or requests.
Not that she had any instructions for him, but when his gaze had to drop or lift to make it past her station, she couldn’t tell herself that he wasn’t looking at her just because.
She must have made him feel uncomfortable the day before, somehow. Had it been her pose request? She searched her memory for some explanation and came up empty.
This is why they had those waivers. It was a vulnerable thing, being a life drawing model.
Chelsea would have to do better.
And then just when she was convinced she had to find him and apologize, the class was over. He grabbed his towel, and then searched the room, stopping when he caught her gaze.
His smile didn’t a hold any trace of concern. It was warm and friendly, if brief, and left her heart racing—surely an overreaction in the other direction.
Before she could pack up, one of her classmates came over to chat about charcoal. When they finished talking, Ben was long gone.
But he hadn’t actually traveled far.
He was waiting outside the coffee shop on the next block. When she caught sight of him and slowed down, he pushed away from the wall and walked toward her.
Chelsea’s heart fluttered, and then took a nervous jolt when it processed that in fact he had been waiting, and for her.
“Hi,” she said softly when they met in the middle of the block.
“I wanted to walk you home.”
“Oh!”
“Surprised?”
“A little.” She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. “I thought you might be…” Uncomfortable with me, she was going to say. “I thought you might be trying to keep things ultra professional between us since it turns out we share a wall. It seemed like you were avoiding eye contact.”
A faint darkness colored the tops of his cheekbones, and he gestured to the street. “Shall we? If you’re heading home?”
She fell into step beside him. “I am.”
He didn’t say anything until they were half a block away from the busy buzz of Orange Ave, then he ducked his head in her direction. “I was avoiding eye contact,” he murmured. “I have to confess that.”
And now he was walking her home? She didn’t understand. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. That wasn’t—”
“What?” He stopped and looped his hand around her upper arm. As she twisted to look at him, her art portfolio slipped off her other shoulder, and he reached for it, catching it before it hit the ground.
Somehow she’d ended up in a circle of his arms. And her bag was now on his shoulder. He rubbed his hands against her upper arms. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I was avoiding eye contact in order to remain, as you said, ultra professional.”
If he hadn’t then glanced down between their bodies, dragging her gaze to the crotch of his jeans, she might have remained stupid about what he meant for way too long.
Oh. Oh. “You mean…” She couldn’t say it.
She could picture it, though. Naked Ben, making eye contact and then having to shift in place because a certain part of his anatomy was being reactive.
She caught a fleeting grin as she yanked her gaze back to his face. And he had zero problem saying it explicitly. “The last thing I wanted was a hard-on in front of everyone.”
A little confirmation wouldn’t hurt anyone. “And making eye contact with me would cause…”
“Fishing for compliments?”
“No!” She jerked back, tripping over her feet. He looked alarmed as she raised her hands. “This is inappropriate