Ink & Quill

Chapter 23

~ Jaxon ~

"Just a little longer, I promise," Ava murmurs without looking up from her canvas.

She's once again talked me out of most of my clothes and into posing while she puts the finishing touches on the last of the portraits in her series. At this point she shouldn't need me at all—she has plenty of reference photos—but she insists that she 'prefers the real thing,' and that having me 'in the flesh' is what really gets her 'juices flowing.'

If I were a more expressive man, I'd have rolled my eyes and gagged at that one.

And yet, aside from her constant innuendos and thinly veiled come-ons, the arrangement I have with Ava Blackwell might be the least unpleasant part of my experience at Harbor City College so far.

Her studio-office has a peaceful atmosphere (despite the macabre décor), the large windows admit ample natural light, and I enjoy the dust-laden air, the smell of paint, the quiet scrape of the palette knife and the swish of the brush. With nothing to do while I sit for her, my mind is free to wander, and I daydream about having a place like this, someday; except that I'll be behind the easel, and Sylas will be the one laid bare to my gaze as I capture the essence of his beauty with a brush.

"When can I see them, anyway?" I ask. I've only caught glimpses of the portraits so far.

"When everyone else does," Ava returns, a self-satisfied smile curving her lips. "That's what will make it Art, Jason—with a capital A: the subject, revealed to himself as he is seen through another's eyes."

"Yeah? And what if I don't like what I see?"

The quirk of her lips grows sharper. "I think you will be pleased. And if not... Well, good art need not elicit a good reaction, as long as it elicits something."

I make a noncommittal noise in reply. She's certainly confident; I'll give her that.

She returns her attention to her work, and as she's yet to glance at me once in reference, I get up and go to the windows, the drape-cloth wrapped around me like a weird cross between a toga and a cape.

It's a clear, bright afternoon outside; the sky a brilliant azure and a fresh sea breeze keeping the late July heat at bay. It's a day to spend playing tourist somewhere—a trip to the beach, or the aquarium, maybe.

Someday soon, I promise myself; someday soon, Sylas and I will be free, and then we'll do things like that—real couple things—and I'll kiss him with the waves at our feet, or at the end of the pier at sunset, and we won't have to hide from anyone, anymore.

Lost in these thoughts, I find my eyes drawn to the small, park-like little courtyard below. Intersected by a winding, paved path, its green lawns and ornamental garden beds with bench-like borders make it a popular place for students to hang out between class. There's a little fountain at one end, and several stone picnic tables arranged beneath large, shading trees.

Ava's second-story windows have a good view, and my pulse quickens as I recognize Sylas seated at a table near the courtyard's center. Then, seeing he's not alone, I frown.

Catching the gleam of sunlight on blonde hair, I realize two things: first, his companion must be Linden Edwards, and second, Aurelio was right. Edwards is not the gangly nerd I remember from high school. Even from this distance, I can tell he's tall, handsome, and might even give Aurelio a run for his money in the fashion department.

From his fitted clothes to his bright grin and neatly trimmed hair, he stands out like a peacock in a flock of pigeons. Sylas looks especially drab in comparison, though I know this is just Aurelio's potion at work; if he were undisguised, the two would make an eye-catching pair indeed.