should tell him or not. After a few seconds I decide
there's no harm in it. "Julianna Hendricks."
"Julianna
Hendricks," he repeats, tossing it in his mouth. I watch his
lips move.
"People call me
Jules."
"Jules," he
echoes. "I like that."
There's a full moon
tonight, and we're right underneath it because I suddenly notice how
thick Pax's eyelashes are. My eyes follow the way they frame his
eyes, how they seem to make his pupils appear darker even though I've
seen the light green flecks up close.
"Hmm?" I
murmur. Of course the universe would give lashes like that to men
like Pax who couldn't possibly know how to appreciate them. The
universe is ironic like that, giving and taking on a whim.
"I said are
you staring at me?"
That jerks me out of my
thoughts. I bite my lower lip, alarmed and embarrassed he's caught
me.
"Because if you
are," he continues, "it's only fair that I get to stare,
too."
If my mind were a TV,
there would be nothing but static right now. I can't think of a
single reply. He steps closer, seeming to enjoy my discomfort. This
should spur more of a rise out of me, but I've noticed his eyes
haven't left my face- not even for a second. Abruptly I feel like an
antique someone analyzes before purchasing. I don't know if I feel
anger or outrage… or interest.
"I'm an artist,"
I blurt out. "I- I draw things and people sometimes and that's
why I was…" staring at you , I finish silently. I can't
bring myself to admit it out loud.
He raises an eyebrow.
I'm not sure what that gesture means. "That's impressive."
Slowly, he grins, an indolent smile that reminds me of lazy mornings
and breakfast in bed. "Was that your way of asking me if you can
paint me?"
"What?" I
sputter. "No."
"I'm not shy."
"No," I
repeat, red in the face. Why isn't my voice firm?
"Actually, I think
it's a great idea. It would give you practice and I'd get to spend
time staring at you."
" What? "
"You have a really
interesting face. Your expressions are priceless. Have you ever tried
drawing yourself?"
Instantly, a picture of
the girl with the hole flashes in my mind. "I don't-"
He puts an arm around
me, and my words stop. "Jules," he says huskily in a voice
I've never heard him use before. It sends tingles down my back. It
makes my pulse jump erratically. He bends until his mouth almost
touches my ear, until I hear his breathing like it's my own. "Are
you up for the challenge?"
Do you know that
feeling when you want to say "no", when your mouth begins
to form that word, but then "yes" comes out instead?
That's what happened.
Chapter 8
"This is against
the law."
"Not
particularly." Pax opens the door for me. "Not if we don’t
get caught."
"Haven't you read 1984 ? There are cameras everywhere," I tell him
seriously, pausing at the doorway.
"Look, my friend
is a TA for the Arts program," he explains as he places a hand
behind my back, gently pushing me in. Pax steps behind me into the
darkness. "They don't use this room past eight p.m. He always
leaves the key underneath the flowerpot. We're safe."
"Is this really
necessary?" I counter as I struggle to see in the blanket of
blackness that stretches before me. Walking forward, I make a sound
as I almost stumble over something.
"Easy," Pax
says softly, as he grabs my elbow. I feel his hardness behind my
back. Instantly, I'm aware of how close we are, of how every hair on
my body is suddenly standing on end. "You okay?"
"Yes." It
comes out as a squeak. My face turns crimson, and I'm thankful the
blackness hides that. Swallowing a ball of nerves down, I repeat,
"Yes," my voice more even.
"Maybe I should
stay close by- just in case." There's warmth to his voice that
makes my breath catch in my throat. I move away, letting air fill the
space. He doesn't follow me, and I can't stop the pang of
disappointment that pierces me when I hear him move to the other
side. I shake my head to clear it, confused about why I want to be
near him when I clearly don't .
A few moments later,
there's no harm in it. "Julianna Hendricks."
"Julianna
Hendricks," he repeats, tossing it in his mouth. I watch his
lips move.
"People call me
Jules."
"Jules," he
echoes. "I like that."
There's a full moon
tonight, and we're right underneath it because I suddenly notice how
thick Pax's eyelashes are. My eyes follow the way they frame his
eyes, how they seem to make his pupils appear darker even though I've
seen the light green flecks up close.
"Hmm?" I
murmur. Of course the universe would give lashes like that to men
like Pax who couldn't possibly know how to appreciate them. The
universe is ironic like that, giving and taking on a whim.
"I said are
you staring at me?"
That jerks me out of my
thoughts. I bite my lower lip, alarmed and embarrassed he's caught
me.
"Because if you
are," he continues, "it's only fair that I get to stare,
too."
If my mind were a TV,
there would be nothing but static right now. I can't think of a
single reply. He steps closer, seeming to enjoy my discomfort. This
should spur more of a rise out of me, but I've noticed his eyes
haven't left my face- not even for a second. Abruptly I feel like an
antique someone analyzes before purchasing. I don't know if I feel
anger or outrage… or interest.
"I'm an artist,"
I blurt out. "I- I draw things and people sometimes and that's
why I was…" staring at you , I finish silently. I can't
bring myself to admit it out loud.
He raises an eyebrow.
I'm not sure what that gesture means. "That's impressive."
Slowly, he grins, an indolent smile that reminds me of lazy mornings
and breakfast in bed. "Was that your way of asking me if you can
paint me?"
"What?" I
sputter. "No."
"I'm not shy."
"No," I
repeat, red in the face. Why isn't my voice firm?
"Actually, I think
it's a great idea. It would give you practice and I'd get to spend
time staring at you."
" What? "
"You have a really
interesting face. Your expressions are priceless. Have you ever tried
drawing yourself?"
Instantly, a picture of
the girl with the hole flashes in my mind. "I don't-"
He puts an arm around
me, and my words stop. "Jules," he says huskily in a voice
I've never heard him use before. It sends tingles down my back. It
makes my pulse jump erratically. He bends until his mouth almost
touches my ear, until I hear his breathing like it's my own. "Are
you up for the challenge?"
Do you know that
feeling when you want to say "no", when your mouth begins
to form that word, but then "yes" comes out instead?
That's what happened.
Chapter 8
"This is against
the law."
"Not
particularly." Pax opens the door for me. "Not if we don’t
get caught."
"Haven't you read 1984 ? There are cameras everywhere," I tell him
seriously, pausing at the doorway.
"Look, my friend
is a TA for the Arts program," he explains as he places a hand
behind my back, gently pushing me in. Pax steps behind me into the
darkness. "They don't use this room past eight p.m. He always
leaves the key underneath the flowerpot. We're safe."
"Is this really
necessary?" I counter as I struggle to see in the blanket of
blackness that stretches before me. Walking forward, I make a sound
as I almost stumble over something.
"Easy," Pax
says softly, as he grabs my elbow. I feel his hardness behind my
back. Instantly, I'm aware of how close we are, of how every hair on
my body is suddenly standing on end. "You okay?"
"Yes." It
comes out as a squeak. My face turns crimson, and I'm thankful the
blackness hides that. Swallowing a ball of nerves down, I repeat,
"Yes," my voice more even.
"Maybe I should
stay close by- just in case." There's warmth to his voice that
makes my breath catch in my throat. I move away, letting air fill the
space. He doesn't follow me, and I can't stop the pang of
disappointment that pierces me when I hear him move to the other
side. I shake my head to clear it, confused about why I want to be
near him when I clearly don't .
A few moments later,
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