“Yeah. It was great, thank you. I think I’ll be ready by Friday,” I lie, knowing that once I get home, I will have to reteach myself every single thing because I wasn’t paying attention.
But he seems pleased, proud of me, and that makes up for any studying I’ll have to do later.
Throwing a laptop case across his shoulder, he waves me toward the door, locking up the classroom before saying, “Did you drive here, or are you waiting for someone?”
“I drove.”
“Cool. I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” I argue weakly, fighting back the wicked grin that wants to split my lips in half. He says it’s no trouble and holds the door open wide. It’s clear then that we aren’t the only two up here, and the whispers of my name hit me like a slap in the face.
“I bet she doesn’t even need tutoring! She’s just in there now to waste his time.”
“Bryan and Jeremy were talking about her earlier. They were betting which could have her spread eagle by the end of the second week.”
“Second? Shit, she’s probably so easy, they-”Once Ariana and her friend spot Mr. Ellis and me standing outside the door, they abruptly silence their conversation. They flit their stares between Mr. Ellis and me, eventually locking in on his furious glare with sheepish looks.
“Are you ladies done?”
“Mr. Ellis, we-”
“Should apologize,” he interrupts, folding his bulky arms across his hardened chest, staring them down until they reluctantly utter an insincere, “Sorry.”
Gently, he places his hand on my back and guides us down the main stairs, allowing me to go first, leaving him to trail after me.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did. I’m not going to let them talk about you that way. It’s ridiculous,” he hisses, shaking his head in disapproval. His aggressive protection of me lights the furnace already burning within me, settling down in my core.
His presence warms my side as he comes to my right. His scent of fresh rain and pine needles envelop my senses, transporting me to the center of the forest after a storm.
“So, Scarlett, tell me about yourself. Where are you from? How are you liking the new environment? Missing home yet?”
“What question do you want me to answer first?” I laugh, grabbing hold of the stair rail so when I turn to gaze into his grinning face, I don’t fall flat on mine.
His chuckle bounces from wall to wall, my heart vibrating with his throaty guffaw. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
I’ve never been one to get tongue-tied around an attractive guy. Nothing about their looks, personalities, or charming demeanors is ever enough to get me to fold. I pride myself on that, being unshakeable around the opposite sex.But fuck. Mr. Ellis has me stumbling over my words, making me forget everything I know about myself.
“You mentioned an art final, and based on the masterpiece decorating my board, I’m going to assume you’re an artist?”
“Yes. Or, I want to be,” I admit, flattered that he actually listened to me instead of giving me half an ear like most teachers.
“What kind of artist?”
“Any kind,” I declare, battling through that overwhelming sense of being inferior that threatens to drag me under. “Draw, paint, ceramics, sculpt.”
The sculpting is newer, probably within the last two years. I’m good at it, great even, but when I paint, it’s the most me I’ve ever felt. The canvas isreal. It’s not stone or clay. I feel the cloth come alive under my swishing brush as I work the colors into something astounding. Drawing, sculpting, and ceramics are beautiful, and it creates a visual that not many get to see, but painting… it can evoke the deepest emotions with the whisk of a brush. Some of the best artists in the world were painters.
I’m going to be one of them.
“Wow. That’s impressive. Do you have samples or, like… a portfolio? I would love to see your work," he says, seeming sincere, as we come to a stop at the first-floor exit.
I mentally pinch myself, convinced none of this is happening, and I’ve somehow conjured up a fantasy. But his eyes, so honest and pure, hold no untruths.
“I do.”
“Will you let me see it?”
