Can he hear it? Can the students?
They must be able to. It’s deafening.
“I’m a patient man. I’ll wait as long as I need to.”I don’t know if he meant for me to hear that, but it's all I could think about when I came home. That, and the way he had my body burning from the inside out with a simple glance my way.
To be honest, I don’t think I could call it a glance. No simple gesture could be that powerful.
“Hi, Mr. Ellis,” I say softly as I step into the edge of his desk. He stares blankly at the monitor, eyes focusing on nothing but the white dot bouncing around the screen.
I stand awkwardly in front of him, feeling the stare of every female student on my back.
“Mr. Ellis?”
He snaps out of his trance with a shake, staring at me with unfeeling eyes. I give him a kind smile, but it isn’t returned. Instead, I’m hit with a feeling of unwelcome.
“Is there something I could help you with, Miss Dane?”
I retract the binder I was extending and hide it behind my back, coughing down my disappointment and searing rejection. “No. Everything is fine.”
Taking my seat, I roughly shove my portfolio into my backpack and pull out my notebook, not once making eye contact with the man I was hoping to impress.
Last night, I reviewed every section he tutored me on. Everything makes sense now, everything except why Mr. Ellis won’t look me in the eye.
“Fuck!” I growl, accidentally jerking my brush too far to the left, completely fucking up my canvas. This is the second piece I’ve fucked up. Thank God it’s only practice, but still… shit!
My father and I ordered a massive collection of linen canvases last night. It’ll be delivered to my warehouse within the next couple of days. Hopefully, those pieces come out better than what I’m creating here. Maybe I could convince Mr. De Luca to let me submit one of those as my final project instead.
“Ahhh. Beautiful, Miss Dane. Just beautiful,” De Luca says, leaning over my shoulder while gazing at the vines I’m struggling to get right.
“Thank you,” I hiss through clenched teeth. This ivy is shit. It’s too jagged and splintered down the middle. The leaves are three different sizes with edges so round they’re practically circular. But the biggest mistake is the drips falling from the edges. It screams amateur. AndthatI’m fucking not.
I’m distracted.
And annoyed.
Mr. Ellis didn’t look at me once in class. Since my first day, I’ve caught his eye drifting toward me all throughout the class period. He thinks I don’t notice, rapidly blinking away when I turn my head to face him, but I do. I feel the burn of his stare.
Mr. Ellislikesto look at me, but today… it’s like he couldn’t stand the sight of me, like I was too repulsive to even glance at.
It's throwing me off, creating a turbulence in my life that I’m ill-equipped to handle.
“Woah! Scarlett, be careful!” Marie shouts, jumping to my side and snatching the dripping paintbrush out of my hand before I accidentally create a disaster on my leg.
I didn’t even realize I was still painting.
“Shit, thanks,” I mutter, wiping the smearing splashes off my skin with a wet cloth. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Yeah, no shit,” she says, eyeing me like I’ve lost my mind before placing my tool back on my work desk. She returns to her station across from me, molding on her ceramic wheel what looks like the beginnings of a hand.
“So what has your head all fucked up? Family? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”
Tossing the ruined linen off to the side, I re-sketch the vines in my art pad. “Just not in it today, I guess.”
I get one perfect vine done by the end of class. I was supposed to have three by now, but I’ve fucked up my other two. I can’t waste any more time by screwing up another.
Distractions cannot be tolerated, not when I thrive on perfection.
For the remainder of my day, I push thoughts of Mr. Ellis away, focusing on me and everything else I have to get done.
