I peek around the easel again. Try to actually look at him as a collection of shapes. Lines. Shadow and light. All that stuff Margot is talking about.
He’s just a person. A naked person. Doing his job.
I can do this.
I start sketching. Head. Shoulders. Torso. I’m actually trying. Really trying. Measuring proportions with my thumb like I’ve seen in movies.
It’s going badly.
The head is too big. The shoulders are uneven. Something about the torso looks like a potato.
I take a drink of wine. A big drink.
Alex glances over at my canvas. Bites her lip. Trying not to laugh.
“Don’t,” I warn.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I was thinking you’re doing great.”
“Liar.”
“The biggest liar.” She grins. Goes back to her canvas.
I peek at her work.
It’s... good? It’s actually good. When did Alex learn to draw naked people? How does she know dick proportions? Why is she so comfortable with this?
“How are you so good at this?” I hiss.
“Art history minor, remember?” She adds shading. Confident strokes. “We had figure drawing as part of the curriculum.”
“You never told me that.”
“You never asked if I’d drawn naked people before.”
“That’s not a normal question!”
“It is if you’re an art major.”
“Okay, everyone!” Margot claps. “Let’s move to our longer pose. Darling, whenever you’re ready.”
Hot guy shifts. Stands. Stretches slightly.
I look at my easel very intensely.
When I peek back, he’s in a new pose. Standing. Weight on one leg. Arms in a position that’s probably meaningful from an artistic perspective but I’m too panicked to process.
I try again. New sketch. Fresh start.
This one is somehow worse.
“You’re overthinking it,” Alex whispers.
“I’m not thinking at all. That’s the problem.”
