Page 7 of Chasing Me

“I think so.Yes.”

“Good, it will be nice to have you in the audience for support.”

“I’ll be there.”

We paid the check, hugged, and I started off back to my apartment.The Chicago wind froze my cheeks and stole my breath, but it felt good.Cleansing.I shoved my hands in the pockets of my green pea coat and hoped James was okay.My black boots ate up the pavement, and my mind spun.When we’d first met in Key West, he’d been plain about the truth of his past, calling himself a poor little rich boy.But the pain beneath his words was real and raw.Money didn’t buy love or caring, and James’s parents barely checked in with him, only wanting him to lead a proper life that didn’t embarrass them or put them out.They rarely reached out, and even when James had called them about art school, they’d been cold, telling him he was on his own if he wanted to pursue a ragtag career.

I climbed the stairs, making my way into the brick building located close to the University.My best friend Cassie and I were going to room together at one time, since we weren’t rich like MacKenzie, but we both ended up preferring our own space.My studio held all the basics, which I’d made homey with bright afghans, plants, and plenty of books.The futon did double duty as my bed and couch, and the kitchen had a microwave, stove, and refrigerator, with a small countertop.My television was old, not even a flat-screen, but it worked fine, and I was able to afford cable, so that was good enough for me.

I shivered, turned up the space heater, and grabbed my books to do some studying before James came over.We’d spend some quality time together, and maybe I’d wear those sexy red panties I’d been saving for a special occasion.

I pushed away thoughts of sex and James and concentrated on my studies.

Chapter Four

JAMES

I left the diner and headed toward the Brush Institute.I’d lied about having a session, but I needed to get my head right and figured working on my project would help.

Fuck.Quinn’s father had no respect for me, and I didn’t blame him.I couldn’t lie.As much as my parents were assholes, I was still the rich kid who’d blown through money and partied nonstop.While Quinn worked her way through college and actually helped people, I’d only helped by financing my friends with unlimited cocktails and holding the most famous parties in Key West.

Who would’ve thought trying to be a better man would be this so fucking hard?

I hated that Quinn was uncomfortable in front of her dad on my behalf.And working at a coffee shop was hard for me to take.But what the hell?Work was work.Money was money.I’d grit my teeth and deal with it because all steps led to Quinn.

I showed my ID, walked inside, and headed toward my room.The portrait class was basic shit, not helping me at all, but on the weekend the school was quiet, and students were able to come in to use the facilities to work on their projects.I was completing a series of charcoal sketches experimenting with how age changes the face.I’d been obsessed since seeing the picture in some trashy magazine on how a well-known celebrity had changed so much no one seemed to recognize her.Of course, the press went nuts and blamed it on plastic surgery, but studying the planes and lines of her face, I became fascinated by how time can soften and sharpen basic features, especially when combined with changes in lifestyle.

It was a good project to match up with drawing basics so Ava, aka Ms.Goodridge, wouldn’t curl her lip and tell me in that frosty tone it was not acceptable for her class.God, I hated her.But I wanted her approval more.

Pathetic.

There wasn’t anyone in my room today, so I took a bit of time to prep, setting up my easel and lining up my charcoal pens.I usually liked to work to music, but since school started and that option was taken away, I was getting better dealing with the silence.In a way, it was kind of nice.Forced me to focus and fight through the mental chatter always going on.

I began working, and after a bit, I got into the zone.Always reminded me of that baseball movie I enjoyed with Kevin Costner –For the Love of the Game.Clear the mechanism.He’d get in the zone and be able to pitch his game without distractions.When I got to that place, it was like being on my boat, surrounded by water and nothing on the horizon but possibilities.Clean.Pure.Like flying.

My fingers flew, curled, created.I didn’t know how long I was at it before my skin began to prickle, and I knew I wasn’t alone.

My head turned, and I locked gazes with Ms.Goodridge.

Trying not to startle and be cool, I took in her appearance with neutrality.She looked like a typical artist.She was tall, tall enough to easily be a model, with hip-length straight red hair.She always wore black; skinny black jeans, a black sweater, and black boots.Black, librarian type of glasses.Red lips and heavy makeup.Dramatic, powerful, and a bitch on wheels.

Her face held no expression as she clicked over and studied my work in silence.Sweat broke out on my brow, but I kept cool, refusing to speak before she did.Hell, it was my time anyway, and we weren’t in class.She shouldn’t even be here, let alone trying to judge me.

“You’re still overcompensating,” she finally said.The air thickened.“How many times must I tell you, Mr.Hunt?You must first adhere to structure before being able to break it.”

Anger shot through me.I clenched my fists.“I do.I did.Look.”I pointed to the curve of cheekbone, the strong brush of jaw.“I’m following the rules.”

“Not good enough.The width of the eyes and space for the forehead is unbalanced, and not in a good way.You’re rushing to get to the good parts, and not taking enough time on foundation.Do you think I’ve given you art history basics to hear myself talk?Start again, and give me what I’ve been trying to teach you for six weeks.”

She turned on her heel to leave, and I lost it.“What the fuck is your problem?”I asked.“I get that you’re trying to teach me, but you don’t do this shit to the others.You like insulting me.I didn’t bitch when you stuck me in the basic classes to waste my time.I followed the rules time and time again.But I can’t seem to satisfy you.”

Ah, shit.

I held my breath and waited for her fury.Waited to get thrown out on my ass over my crappy temper issues.Again.

Instead, she tilted her head and stared at me.Her eyes were the lightest green, almost gold, and now they drilled into me as if probing my very soul.A trickle of awareness slid down my spine.What the hell was going on?That look was just...uncomfortable.Not like a teacher to a student.More like a woman to a man.Right?Unless I was just screwed up in the head and imagining things not there.

“Mr.Hunt, I assure you I’m not out toget you.I’m here to do my job and push your limits.I think you’ve had an easy life, and you don’t know what to do with the first criticism you’ve received on something important to you.”

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