6

Kassie

To Eye Fuck A University GI Joe Doll

Ryan passed by and I counted down the seconds. He had to be judging his options. It all boiled down to a single question for him—was his meeting that important?

He shifted to the right and stepped on the stage.

Holy shit. It must be.

Yanking the back of the chair, Ryan took a seat, surrounded by the gaping students around us.

"What was that? " Zariah whispered the moment I returned.

"Getting a model for Mr. Ishisaka," I replied, trying to be casual about it. But I knew the moment I looked up, Ryan would be staring at me again, discontent, irritated, a metaphorical tiger pacing behind iron bars.

Mr. Ishisaka clapped his hands and gave an excited introduction about our less-than-enthusiastic model. With a quick tap of the board, he reiterated the Five Lines Rule, the one he swore by. Anybody could be drawn and recognized. All it took was five specific lines of that person.

Oh, shit. I actually have to draw Ryan.

The moment I looked up…yep, still staring at me, still aggravated, and wanting me to feel every second of that. Fine. That wouldn't stop me from earning my twenty participation points.

I danced the end of the pencil back and forth between my thumb and my pointer finger.

Five lines. I needed the base and five lines to complete it.

A rough sketch started to form. His base was easy enough.

Ryan sat on that chair like a throne, his long legs stretched before him, always taking up the most room. Even sitting so tense—straight, hard lines, no softness—there was an ease I couldn't deny. He was angry, but he wasn't uncomfortable .

Big difference there.

He fit in well. Anywhere. Everywhere. It was like you could've dropped him into any place in the world and he just belonged, no effort required.

Five lines.

Thick eyebrows—a man's eyebrows. The jaw, I couldn't draw the jaw clean enough. If anyone broke that during a game, they'd be sued by the school. His messy hair had a curl to it, something that stuck him out of the crowd. The nose…that was four lines.

Those intense, dark honey eyes. The fifth. I wasn't drawing in color and I didn't need to. The slant below his eyebrow's bone, the intensity…my pencil stilled over the paper. There was a catch in my throat.

Ryan gazed right at me.

Keep going , that traitorous little voice murmured in my brain. Maybe he'd be down for some nude modeling later?

"Wait," Zariah whispered. "What the hell is happening?"

I accidentally cracked the lead of my pencil. "What?"

"What's this? "

"What's what?"

"The…I thought…the dinner?" Zariah glanced back and forth between the two of us while I shoved the pencil into my sharpener. She kept her voice as low as she could. "Kass…did you just…eye-fuck him?!"

"Did I what? "

"And he's…is he eye-fucking you? " Zariah had the most incredulous look on her face. "What is this?"

"Would you relax?" I hissed, trying to avoid the flush creeping up my neck.

"You did that in public? In front of me? "

"Zariah—"

"Are you serious? You could've gotten that poor man pregnant. It feels like I've got to put a sweater on and—"

"Zariah." Mr. Ishisaka's small voice carried over the classroom and pencils stopped scribbling long enough to get everyone's attention. "Are we finished early?"

"Um…no."

"Then I suggest…" He clapped his hands, and all attention returned to our drawings, the seconds counting down.

It wasn't fast enough, but once the modeling session was done, Ryan offered his goodbyes to our grateful professor and nodded once at me.

Zariah and I were close to the stage. I had zero clue if my roommate's whispers had carried up. All I knew was that I had a blessed thirty-five minutes left, where all I needed to focus on was carefully copying notes.

Until that ran out.

"Do you think he's still outside?" Zariah craned her neck, humming under her breath.

"I know he is."

"I'm going to go talk to him."

"What?" I struggled to pile everything in my backpack while Zariah zipped around everybody else filing out of class. I booked it to the door just in time to see her shaking hands with a bemused Ryan.

"Zariah Contractor, witness to the unspoken attraction between you two."

Oh my god.

"Contractor?" Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Like—?"

"Yes, I'm Elijah Contractor's sister. Don't hold the hockey team's problems against me."

I grabbed her backpack and hauled her away. "Don't you have class to be late for?"

Pointing down the hallway, I tried to ignore Ryan behind me. Which was damn near impossible but I'd seen two seconds of that smirk. It was all I had the patience for.

"Fine, I'm going." Zariah walked down the hallway, hands shoved in her pockets. "Love you, Kass!"

I waved her away and turned back to Ryan. I hesitated. "So…this meeting."

"We're going."

"No, I know." And I was seriously regretting that decision. "Later, I've got class—"

"Now." Ryan left no room for argument.

In a moment, he was halfway across the building, not even waiting for me to catch up.

"The athletics department will send a notice to your professor."

"But…" I had to hurry after him, still working on shoving everything in my backpack. My drawing pad never fit right the first time. "Can't you relax?"

"No."

I rearranged everything in my backpack while we walked across the art building. My drawing pad just slid into place when a big hand reached out to pluck it away from me.

" Hey! "

There were no ands, ifs, or buts I could offer, Ryan kept it carefully out of reach.

"It's a drawing of me," he said.

"I don't give a shit."

He flipped through the pages without breaking his stride. I would've been tripping on my ass if I did that. I tried to grab it back, but no dice, when something changed in his face.

Fuck. He found today's page.

His eyebrows furrowed, his eyes narrowed. The little lines on his face, the curve of his lips…he was surprised at the sketches. Of course he was. I knew that look a hundred times over. As an animation major, you get used to it.

"I told you, I draw cartoons."

When he pushed open the door, I didn't argue. I just stepped out into the warm sunshine.

"What were you expecting?" I pressed when he remained quiet. "Perspective? Van Gogh?"

He glanced down at me for a second and I realized I didn't know that expression at all. His hard lines vanished.

Ryan smoothed back the paper. "It's been a while since I've seen something without football gear. I like how you captured just…me."

I had no idea what to say to that.

"This is good." He took another look at it with a wry grin. "Not Henry Miller or Bird Pants material. It's better."

"Don't compliment me by shitting on another artist. Hey! "

Ryan held the drawing pad away from me and started to rip off the paper.

"Don't you dare ."

"Do you need this page for class?" he asked, pausing his uncalled-for destruction of my personal property.

"No, but—"

"I can take it then."

I frowned. "Absolutely not."

Ryan held it above my head, out of reach. I wasn't short by any means, but I wasn't a Jolly Green Giant for the football team either.

"Do you want your notebook back?"

I almost corrected him. It wasn't a notebook, it was a sketchbook, but his words sunk in. He had me there. Sketchbooks were my workout gear, my cooking utensils, and my textbooks, all rolled into one. I needed it. And it wasn't like I had any future plans for the rough sketches of the team captain anyway.

"Fine," I muttered.

With a triumphant smile, Ryan finished tearing out the drawing, folded it, and shoved it in his pocket. Without breaking a stride, he passed the sketchbook to me.

The whole damn conversation was childish. There were goals I wanted to achieve and those wouldn't be checked off by filling my time arguing with some cocky football player.

Whatever he was selling, I wasn't buying. Shaking my head, I knew without a doubt, whatever the upcoming meeting was going to bring—I wouldn't be involved in it.