“Thank you,” I breathed out before leaving her office.
Grabbing my stuff from my office, I rushed out into the parking lot to head home. Despite the humiliation of just being caught, the temptation of visiting Jack in his room was an intrusive and overpowering impulse.
He gave me something to look forward to, and maybe that didn’t have to end after all.
Maybe I could be happy, if only I could stop being terrified.
24
PJ
DYLAN:Nervous?
ME: Nope. Terrified.
DYLAN: Stop, you teach art every day.
ME: Kids. Not adults.
DYLAN: So? You’ve assisted in those classes for a while now. You’re a talented artist. Tonight will be cake. I promise.
Tonight would be the first time I was teaching an art class by myself. Granted, these weren’t “serious” students, as the evening classes had a “paint and drink” theme, and I was used to helping anyone who had trouble figuring out direction, but up there, alone, leading the class, that was frightening as hell.
ME: I’d rather be with you. I hate when you work night jobs.
Dylan sometimes worked night jobs with his crew. They were the only nights we were apart.
DYLAN: Believe me, I’d rather be with you, too. Know what I was thinking about?
ME: Nope, what?
DYLAN: When you come, do you know your right leg shakes? Like on its own; you couldn’t fake it if you tried. It’s like a live wire running through that amazing body I can’t keep my hands off of. I’m hard just thinking about it. About you. Wait until tomorrow night, I’ll make you come so hard you won’t even feel your legs.
The class was starting to fill up and there was nothing I could do to dull the ache that now bloomed between my thighs that this annoying bastard had given me via a frigging text message.
ME: What the hell is the matter with you? What am I supposed to do with that now?
DYLAN: Are you nervous anymore?
ME: You know what … no. At least, not as much. You think you’re so smart, don’t you?
DYLAN: I know I am. And I meant every single word, so you’d better get some sleep tonight. I love you, baby. You’re brilliant, and you’ll be fine.
ME: I love you, too. Here goes nothing.
“All right, kiddo. This is all you.” My friend and boss, Beth, nudged me on the shoulder. She was only in her late twenties and owned and managed the studio herself. In the year I’d worked for her, she’d become a close friend. She made me believe that art could change the world and showed me how to find inspiration in every little thing around us. I admired the hell out of her, but thought she was bat shit crazy for giving me an entire class to teach.
“Listen, I wouldn’t leave you here unless I had complete faith in you.” She clutched my shoulders. “And, if for some reason, it gets tough, have Ryan serve them an extra round of wine on the house. They won’t give two shits about what they’re painting.” She winked and kissed my cheek before breezing out the door.
I queued up the TV screen to the sunset painting for tonight. I’d been painting sunsets since before I could read, so maybe Dylan was right, and this would be easier than I thought. Scanning the room, it was a small turnout but the typical crowd I was used to. A couple on a date, a few girls laughing with their friends, and a tall, broad-shouldered man all the way in the back with an FDNY T-shirt stretching over his inked arms. My dad gave me a little wave when our eyes met and I couldn’t help but laugh.
The next hour flew by. I quickly shook off my nerves and got lost in the masterpiece as I always did. Art always soothed me like nothing else, and by the end of the class, I had to admit it really was cake once I’d gotten started.
Trudging up to my surprise student at the end of class, I hooked my arm around his neck and kissed his cheek. I was standing and he was sitting, and he was still two heads taller than I was.
“Since when do you take painting classes?” I asked.
“Since I haven’t had five minutes with my Peanut since she graduated. Mom told me you were teaching tonight, and I left work early for a class and dinner with my other best girl. Feel like pizza with your old man?”
