Getting Her Back

It’s time for me to realize that that may never happen.

I get on the train, trying to shake the anger from my chest, but it doesn’t work very well. Just as I get off at my stop, and climb down the stairs to walk home, my phone chimes.

I want to draw you.

The text is from Christian, and I just text back a question mark, because the text doesn’t make sense. When he doesn’t answer I send another one

What?

I want to draw you.

Draw me how?

I wait for the little typing bubbles, stopped on the corner of the street.

I want to come over to your place, or go to the apartment, and I want to draw you, naked. So that you can understand how I feel before I have to do this two more times.

For as long as I’ve known him, Christian has been talented. He’s an architect, so he knows how to draw, and well. Granted it’s not usually bodies, and it’s usually more straight lines than curves, but he can do it. I imagine that situation, being studied by him, and it’s erotic as hell.

To have that laser focus of his attention on me for such a long time, I realize with sudden clarity why he pulled me into that closet.

There’s the whisper in my head that I shouldn’t. That this will just blur the already blurring lines. But I push the voice away. I’m a grown-up. I can handle this. And I want to know how it feels. There’s also the whisper that I deserve this. After everything, I deserve to enjoy myself, even if Christian isn’t the same person he once was.

Either way, this can’t happen tonight.

I’m already home though, or almost there, and after so many things happening today, I’m not ready for him to come over to my house. That’s a whole other emotional hurdle that I haven’t prepared myself for. So I text him back—

I would love that. But I can’t tonight. How about tomorrow, after our class? We can go to the apartment and you can draw me there.

I send another one in quick succession.

I’m willing to bet you’ll be raring to go by then.

You bet your sweet ass I will.

I sigh, sending him another text.

I saw my sister today. She’s concerned that my mother is going to find out that you’re helping me and lose her shit.

Yeah, she’s probably going to find out at some point, you should be prepared for that.

Frustration rises in my chest again.

How is she going to find out? Also, I’m more than a little frustrated with her at the moment, it’s none of her business. Why should she care?

She cares because you are her daughter, and she wants what’s best for you even if the way she wants it is slightly misguided.

That shuts me up. Despite the fact that my mother and I have different views on the way my life should go, I could never argue that she doesn’t care about me or that she doesn’t love me.

I hate it when you’re right.

I know.

I’m almost at the door to my building, and I’m overcome with a bone deep exhaustion. I’ve been on my toes all day, with the new contract and Celia and my mother. All I want to do is sleep. I pause outside my door, texting him one more time.

Going to bed early. I’ll see you tomorrow at class?

Sleep well, and I’ll see you in class.

One final chime.

Dream of me.

14

The second art class with Christian as the model is going much like the first one did.

Only this one is worse.

Every time I feel his gaze on me, I know that the situation is going to be reversed in a matter of hours. I try desperately to focus on my work, to execute my vision of Christian as I see him as he stands in front of me, but it’s a lot harder to focus this time.

I know what’s coming. I know the way me drawing him riles him up. And I know that it’s going to be ten times more powerful after this experience with him drawing me.

On the upside though, the girl who sits next to me actually smiled at me when she came in. Maybe she realized that it was unfair of her to be angry with me for being with Christian. I hope so. We exchanged names, and her name is Kelsey. At the very least, I don’t have to worry about having made an enemy in the class.

Well, I guess I don’t know that for sure, since there are still plenty of women ogling Christian’s body. Normally, I’d say that women ogling my boyfriend would piss me off. But in this situation it’s okay.

Suddenly I freeze.

My boyfriend.

I just called Christian my boyfriend in my head.

Oh. No.

This is a bad sign.

I’m getting too attached, but what should I do about it? Now that I’m in this deep, I know that I don’t want to sleep with random strangers for a baby. I don’t want to go back on my word, but I don’t want to go through everything again. Like when I lost him the first time. We need to have a conversation, but I just don’t know how.