Page 54 of Falling Slowly
“Nude drawing?”
“Yeah. I was hoping for a male model, but sounds like they’re harder to source around here. Unless you wanted to volunteer?” He raised his brow at Charlie, who rolled his eyes.
“No, thanks. I don’t mind drawing a lady.”
“Yeah, I figured.” Harry shrugged and left.
Alone in the cafeteria, Charlie turned to me. “Thank you for saving me.”
“From what?”
“Ms. Whatshername. She’s relentless.” Charlie exhaled, fanning the front of his sweater.
Relief flooded me at the easy connection between us. Maybe we could get past that awkward moment and return to something resembling friendship. Or at least a working relationship.
I flashed him a carefree grin. “No problem. What are fake girlfriends for?”
But he didn’t smile back. He held my gaze, making my skin all hot. “That wasn’t fake, Bess.”
“Sure it was,” I insisted, even if my smile wavered.
“I know you’re scared but you can’t tell me there’s nothing between us.”
“That’s not what I’m saying, Charlie. I just?—”
“I’ll get us some breakfast.” The hurt look was back, but with a hint of defiance.
He got up and headed to the breakfast buffet. The table was empty. So, he hadn’t eaten yet. He’d been waiting for me.
When Charlie returned, handing me my seven-cereal mix, he looked even more defiant. I’d given him hope I couldn’t affordto give. I’d given myself room to dream what I couldn’t afford to dream. Despite Teresa’s words, the idea of being with Charlie haunted me.
I couldn’t let that idea grow. I had to focus my energy on something else, and I could only hope nude drawing was the ticket.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Charlie
We spent the morning and a couple of hours after lunch in the studio, sketching a nude model. Contradictorily, staring at a naked lady, trying to etch her likeness on a giant piece of paper, finally settled my hard-on. The model was neither Bess, nor particularly hot, but the act of drawing took my mind off all the things I wanted to do to Bess. Well, not entirely. I was still the average man, thinking of sex every seven minutes. But that sort of frequency allowed other thoughts to enter into the mix, creating the illusion of control.
In the afternoon, we returned to the cabin to get ready for the hike.
I watched Bess fill up a water bottle and fit my empty shoe box she intended to use for leaf collecting inside her little backpack.
“Is that all you’re taking?”
She looked up, confused. “What? They said it’s only a couple of hours and we’re coming back for dinner.”
“Yeah. Plenty of time for some snacks, and to try my binoculars.” I grinned, lifting the pair I’d hung around my neck. “These have a built-in camera.”
She cocked her head, smiling sweetly. “Of course they do.”
Something had changed. I’d felt it from the moment we kissed in the cafeteria. There’d been a flash of confidence and challenge in her eyes, and passion that felt at odds with her earlier words. She’d looked at me like she owned me, which felt accurate. But my response to her was so visceral I hardly cared about the power dynamics. I only wanted to touch her.
I’d behaved like a lovesick teenager, giving her the upper hand, and she’d taken it. Not to gloat or reject me, even if she believed we had no future. She’d relaxed into herself, teasing me by playing an obnoxiously PDA-prone couple. I wasn’t sure if she felt jealous of the other women or if it was an act, but I enjoyed those touches, sneaking peeks at her at every opportunity. Bess had been drawing her heart out, graduating from soft shading to dynamic charcoal lines. I was so proud of her my heart ached.
“Don’t worry, I have trail mix for both of us. The good kind with chocolate.” I could only hope my preparedness was a draw card and not another reminder of my privilege and unbridled spending.
“Humans can survive two hours without snacking,” she said, but looked a little pleased as she pointed at my state-of-the-art rucksack. “So, what else did you pack?”
