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satchel searching for something.
    After everyone sits a cloud of silence settles over the room. My gaze slices through it and meets with Nathan’s. Our eyes lock and I can’t look away. I’ve never felt such a magnetic pull toward another person before, ever. Not movie stars, classmates, or any other guy—even Matt. It’s unreal and feels like I’m trapped in a spell.
    Dr. Jax prattles on, giving directions. When he’s finished, he nods at Nathan. “Nice to see you back.”
    Nathan returns the gesture. “Thanks.”
    Jax motions to some things he wants the class to note about the pose, the classic S-curve of my spine and the lighting. “There’s no need to pretend the collection of you would rather be drawing our regular male model, so I suggest we treat Miss. Hill as the serious artist she is—especially since not one of you have the nerve to sit where she sits now.” No one responds to that. How could they?

Chapter 9
    Time passes slowly. Class goes on and on and on. Jax leaves the room with directions for Nathan to come by his office later. Thank God this pose doesn’t hurt although my foot is getting pins and needles. I wiggle my toes to make it go away.
    Carter’s dark eyes flick up and meet mine over and over again, but he says nothing. Emily and everyone else look up from their desks, capturing each line carefully. Their eyes are all over my body. I knew this would be revealing, but I didn’t think about being stared at for so long. I zone out, thinking about the first time—strike that—the second time I met Nathan in the bar. My mind is at the point in the hotel room where his mouth is devouring me, when I hear a male voice laugh.
    A few guys are whispering in the back row. Nathan kicks their chairs, one leg each, so they jerk forward. The pastels they’re holding jerk up and streak across their work. “Respect is required at all times, DeMarques. This is the only warning you’ll get. If I hear another word out of your mouth, you’ll be dropped from the class.”
    All eyes are on DeMarques. His jaw is slack. He looks to his friend, who quickly looks away without offering any support, then back to Nathan. “I was kidding. Can’t you recognize a joke?”
    “No. While we’re working, there’s no joking about shit like that. If I have to argue that point with you, you do not belong in this department. Are we clear?”
    The silence is deafening. No one moves. They wait for DeMarques to respond, but he doesn’t. Finally, he grates his teeth and huffs. “You’re right. Sorry.”
    Nathan stands up and walks around the room, talking. “The human figure is the most challenging subject for an artist to capture. Every aspect of our model’s pose is alluring, yet there is a haunted look in her eyes. Capture it. Capture her softness, the way she hides her sensuality. Capture the flow of her hair as if it’s a living thing. All these components are pieces of her, working together to reveal a glimpse of her soul. As an artist, it’s your job to combine all of this into a piece that reflects yourself. It’s a marriage, a merging of two souls into one canvas. This particular opportunity is rare for our class; I suggest you take advantage of it.” Nathan paces the floor without looking at me. His shoulders are squared, protective. It’s as if he can’t stand the thought of another man ogling me, even though the class is filled with men. Emily and I are the only women present tonight.
    When I glance her way, Emily drops her gaze to her canvas, carefully avoiding mine. I wonder about her protest, if this was a mistake. No. I’m tired of second guessing myself. Wondering gets a person nowhere in life and I’m not going to remain broken to bits, mourning an ex-boyfriend who didn’t love me. I don’t know what to think about my mother. I’ll have to see her again, but after talking to Daddy, I want to put that off as long as possible. Fury burns within me. Why can’t I stop thinking about them? The