❝You think we're going to live happily ever after? Newsflash: I'm not a fucking princess, you're no prince and this fucked up thing between us is not a fairy tale.❞
Ian raises one perfectly arched eyebrow, unfazed by my outburst. ❝Fairy tales can be...
From the moment I saw her, I knew this one was worth the broken heart. —Atticus.
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I'm in serious need of a bathroom break.
I've been sitting down for almost an hour now, pointedly ignoring the current situation at hand; you know, the one that involves me naked with tons of strangers and a not so stranger drawing the hell out of me.
I try not to move from my position this time. I'm lying down on my side with my hand supporting my head, facing the class with my hair miraculously finding a way to cover my chest and my legs crossed. It's a comfortable enough position but suddenly, I want to pee and the class only has twenty more minutes left to draw me.
I knew I shouldn't have taken that bottle of Coke before storming in here. And I don't want to move from my position. I'm not sure I'll be able to properly untangle my legs without falling face first and flashing the class more of what they don't need to see.
Jameel is busy going through everyone's drawings, his face perfectly stoic. I know later, as soon as the timer goes off, Jameel will start talking about my body like I'm not even trying to hold my pee behind him. I suddenly understand that this nude modeling job is either for freaks or people who are too confident about their bodies to care.
I'm not a freak. And I suppose I'm not as insecure as I like to believe about my body if I can stay this way for more than an hour for a bunch of strangers and Ian freaking Ross to draw me.
...WHY IS IAN ROSS HERE?
I understand that he's a tattoo artist and therefore, he has the right to take classes so that he'll be able to improve but WHY? Why Jameel's art studio of all places? Why is the Universe pulling us together in the most inconvenient of times?
All I wanted was a tattoo from him. He refused to grant my wish. Then we met at Starbucks and he stole my latte. Then we met at the mall and I basically threw iced mocha at his pretty boy face. Everything would have been okay but then, he just had to hear me spilling my heart out to Aakrati, the demon ballerina. Then we became friends for a second because he bought me my favorite drink. And then, we met at my favorite almost out of business pizzeria and now that I keep looking at the pattern, it seems to me that the Universe is either telling me to befriend Ian Ross or get laid.
...Yeah, I'm not hooking up with Ian Ross.
I steel myself and force myself to look at him drawing me. I'm not sure how he can see me clearly from his position at the very back but he seems to actually be concentrating on drawing me. His bangs are hanging in front of his icy blue eyes but he doesn't seem to be bothered at all. His gaze is trained on the sketch pad in front of him, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth as he continues to draw.
