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“Interesting.” The words fall on the floor like the clattering of pots and pans.
    Emily looks over her shoulder at Carter, her gaze narrowed like he’s an idiot. That’s when Nathan approaches her desk. “Emily.”
    “Nathan.” She sounds defiant, like she’s not changed her mind about what she said earlier.
    He stares at her work for a few moments and sighs. “Come with me.” Emily isn’t happy, but she gets up. “Take your things. Class is almost over.”
    “Fine.” She ducks down and packs up her work, finally tossing a blank canvas into her slot on the side of the room.
    She wouldn’t draw me. What does that mean?
    “Finish what you’re working on and pack up. Carter, please stay behind until I return to strike the set so the next class can use the space. I need to mark where all the furniture is positioned on the floor before Kerry moves. So, please, hang back a few moments. Kerry, I’ll grab your check while I’m at it. Be right back.” Nathan hurries out the door and down the hall until I can’t hear his footfalls.
    That’s when things take a turn.

Chapter 10
    Quinn DeMarques is staring at me as he packs his things. The look in his eyes makes my skin prickle in a bad way, like he’s going to do something stupid. I don’t look at him. Carter continues drawing, glancing up at me every few seconds.
    When Quinn walks by, he stops at my feet and bends over, as if he’s tying his shoe. “Nice view.”
    I don’t move, but I can’t let him think he affects me. “Fuck you.”
    “Any time, babe.”
    I glance at him. “What, do you need hand gestures? Fuck off, Quinn. Move along.” My words are sharp and strong, but he doesn’t stop smiling.
    “I get it tramp. You think you’re too good for me? You think you’re better than everyone else?” He tips his head to the side and smiles, exposing his teeth. His eye teeth look as if they’ve been filed into fangs.
    Have I said artists are weird? It’s a love it/ hate it thing. You have people like Emily who have their own minds with strong opinions of life and the world around them. Awesome. Then you have people like the jackass in front of me who smoked one too many in high school, got dubbed an art genius while tripping out, and then ended up here. He doesn’t belong here and ten bucks says he thinks vampires are real. He’s a creeper, one hundred percent.
    After whipping his fangs out, he slowly stands and smears a line of chalk on his painting. It happens to be the line under my poorly drawn breast. He touches his tongue to his top lip and winks at me.  
    That’s when I hear Emily’s voice bellowing down the hallway. “This is bullshit! You can’t make me!”
    “It’s your choice.”
    “That’s not a fucking choice! And you left her in there with those assholes! You see how they’re looking at her! This is bullshit!” I hear her boots stomp down the hall and disappear into the stairwell. Damn. She’s not drawing me on principle. She thinks the guys aren’t mature enough to handle this, or maybe that I can’t handle it.
    The thought would have grated before Quinn’s demonstration, but not now. Regardless, I’m not going to let some asshole control my life. This modeling gig solves a few problems for me. For one, I’ll have money—which I need thanks to El Buso and my rabid raccoon. Secondly, I’ve never felt so feminine, or so alive. I like modeling.
    My mother would have a stroke. That is the unit of measurement for all Kerry currency. So maybe what I do isn’t Mom’s fault, but she hit midlife crisis and has been hugging that sucker for nearly a decade. I’m sick of seeing her wearing my clothes and talking the way I do. She copies my gestures and tries to be me. It’s enough to drive me crazy. Add in stealing Matt and she pushed me over the crazy line.
    I didn’t notice him move, but Carter is up and rams his board into Quinn’s back. “Move, asshole.”
    Quinn turns and sneers. “Couldn’t get this one to fuck