Read Online The Opposite of Nothing by Shari Slade - Free Book Online

probably never had to ask him questions like that. He didn’t let people hurt him. He was a Quinn. She’d known it from the very beginning. Whatever he did was cool by simple virtue of the fact that he’d done it. And he liked her.
    She arranged herself on the edge of the couch, careful to keep a safe distance between them, and cleared her throat. No response. She bounced a little, and he stirred.
    “I’m not seeing him anymore.”
    “Huh?” Tayber grabbed the notebook and dropped it on the floor beside him. His face was soft with sleep, the sharp edge of his jaw blurred with stubble she ached to touch.
    “I said I’m not seeing him anymore. The guy. We broke up.”
    “Oh, that’s why you were upset.”
    “Not really.”
    “Come again?” He rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyes and scooched himself into a sitting position, bringing his leg into contact with her backside. She shifted, putting space between them again. She couldn’t do this if any part of him was touching her.
    “It wasn’t real. I thought it was, but it wasn’t. No big deal.”
    Bury a lie in the truth to really sell it. Her stomach rose up and she folded her hands in her lap in an attempt to quell it.
    “Hey.” The weight of his palm on her back startled her. He stroked soothing, disconcerting, circles between her shoulder blades. “I’m sorry, Callie. What can I do?”
    “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
    “I’m sorry you’re hurting.”
    “I’m not.”
    “Don’t lie to me.”
    That stung. All she did was lie. “I can’t do this here, in the middle of everything.”
    He stood. “I have a thing after class, but let’s catch up tonight. We’ll walk. Clear your head.”
    A thing? Maybe more like nothing. The thought of him hooking up with someone before he dropped by her place was gutting. “It’s still too cold to walk anywhere at night.”
    “I’ll keep you warm. I mean moving, so you stay warm. About seven o’clock? In front of your apartment?”
    He jogged backwards as he spoke. Grinning, so his dimples showed on cheeks that were maybe, possibly, just a little bit pink. Was Tayber blushing?
    * * *
    S uite 314 was the last door at the end of a long hallway. Tayber hadn’t taken any visual arts classes so the building was unfamiliar. Unnerving, too, but that probably had less to do with the location and more to do with what he was thinking about doing.
    He’d swung by earlier to inquire about the modeling job, and a paint-spattered student assistant had told him to come back at quarter to six. The guy had barely looked up from his canvas.
    The room was filled with students setting up easels and it smelled like a fresh box of pencils. His nose itched. He hadn’t expected a class to be in session.
    A mousy redhead noticed him standing at the threshold and beamed. She clapped her neighbor on the shoulder—the painter kid from earlier—and bounced on her stool. “Guys, I think the model is here and he’s a hottie.”
    He clenched his jaw. He couldn’t just leave now that he’d been spotted.
    “Dana, we do not objectify the models. They share their form with us, and we honor that with respect and dignity. We draw life.” It had to be the instructor, though he’d never guess by looking. She wore a gray t-shirt and faded jeans. From behind, she looked like she could only be a few years older than the oldest students in the room, even if her voice was commanding. Dana blushed and ducked behind her large sketch pad.
    The instructor turned to face him, and he was surprised by her very pregnant belly. “Sorry about that. You can change in the bathroom down the hall. There’s a robe hanging on the coat rack in the corner.”
    Change? Robe? He hadn’t taken the job yet. This was a fact-finding mission.
    “I’m not sure I’m right for—”
    “Can you sit still for long stretches of time?”
    “Yes.” Sit still. The opposite of dancing—entertaining—though still naked, still exotic.
    “Then