Bridgeport Academy 2

47

What am I doing? What am I doing? Robyn paused at the edge of the path to the boathouse, right at the spot where Chris had instructed her to turn off, the sky just beginning to glow orange. Her stomach rumbled a little, reminding her that she was skipping dinner. But she was too nervous and keyed up to eat anything anyway. After practice, she'd raced to shower off the sweat and grime their long practice had left her covered in, then dressed carefully. She had no idea what constituted appropriate clothing for a modeling session in the woods with her ex-boyfriend, and after deliberating for about twenty minutes she'd had to force herself to just get dressed already. Chris had asked to paint her, after all, and so he must want her to show up looking like herself. If that meant wearing expensive, slightly inappropriate clothing, so be it.

And so here she was, in her tight-fitting black pants, high-heeled pointy-toed boots, and black scoop-neck sweater with a neckline just high enough not to be inappropriate. Her still-damp hair was curling slightly at the ends and making her feel even colder. She zipped her vest up to her chin, the rabbit-fur lining making her nose twitch, and stepped off the path, the heels of her boots sinking slightly into the mossy undergrowth. She reminded herself of her resolution with Kae and how she'd just lied to her, saying she was in a rush to get to the library. She was not going to let this thing with Chris go beyond a friendship. In fact, for that reason, she'd purposely not shaved her legs in the shower. Leg stubble always made her feel so unsexy, and she felt like she might need to harness that unsexy feeling when spending time alone with Chris in the woods.

She made her way through the woods, stepping carefully over branches and enjoying the way the dry leaves crumpled beneath her feet. Robyn inhaled the fresh, leafy air and wished she were a more outdoorsy person—it might be kind of fun, as long as it didn't mean she had to wear ugly hiking boots or wear that awful all-natural deodorant crap. She came up to the small clearing that she'd guessed was Chris's secret spot, and sure enough, there he was, crouched down in front of a bunch of tubes of paint scattered on the grass. She just stood there for a moment, staring at him, taking in the scene. He looked so natural out here, and even from how far away she was, she could read in his movements a relaxed happiness that she only really got to see when he was around Credo.

Then he looked up and saw her, and his face dissolved into a huge crooked grin. "Hey," he said, standing up and brushing off his hands on his already dusty dark jeans. "What do you think?" He held his arms out to indicate the clearing.

Robyn approached slowly, aware that even the sight of Chris doing something so simple as holding his arms out was making all of her old feelings for him come back. Fuck. This was definitely going to be harder than she thought, unshaved legs or no. "It's nice," she commented politely. "Where are the flowers?" 

"Well, it is October." 

"What, there are no flowers in fall?" she asked peevishly, already feeling herself slide into the slightly contrary attitude that Chris had always gotten off on. She didn't mean to, it just felt so...natural. "That's stupid." 

Chris laughed. His eyes crinkled up at the edges, and Robyn could tell from his expression that he wanted to kiss her, the way he had done a thousand times—which broke her heart. Yes, she'd been hoping with every ounce of her being that he would realize how stupid he had been and come running back to her, throwing himself at her feet and begging for forgiveness. She missed him. She missed his deep laugh that came from somewhere down in his belly, the way he raised one eyebrow slightly when he thought she was bullshitting him about something. 

"Whatever. The leaves will make a pretty cool background, especially once the sun starts to set," he said.

Robyn felt Chris's gaze wash over her. Did he look at all of his models this way? A few weeks ago, Jasmine had insinuated that Chris had been out in this very painting spot with Kae. That hurt. No way was she going to let him hurt her again, not like that. Robyn shook her head disdainfully. "So, what do you want me to do here? Stand in front of the leaves?" 

Chris scratched his neck and narrowed his eyes, focusing intently on her face. Robyn felt her stomach flop but tried not to let her face betray her feelings. "I want to do some sketches first to sort of get some ideas out." He picked up an enormous sketch pad and pulled a stubby pencil from behind his ear. "So maybe just sort of sit on the rock for now?" 

Robyn eyed the rock. She'd sort of thought modeling would mean stretching out on a luxurious, velvet chaise lounge, maybe just wearing some silky robe casually thrown about her. Something Titanic-like, the heart of the ocean around her neck. Not perching on a dirty, uncomfortable rock in the middle of October when it was freezing out and she had to wear her puffy red vest with the fur-trimmed hood. If Chris wanted to paint an Eskimo, he could've looked one up in the library. 

Well, whatever. He was the artist. She eased herself down on top of the rock, hooking her heels on a small ledge. "How's this?" 

"You look like you're pissed to be sitting on a rock," Chris said with a knowing smile. "Or being forced this close to nature." 

She knew Chris kind of got off on the fact that she was a bit of a sheltered princess. "Fine." Robyn pivoted on the rock and leaned over, throwing her arms around it in a giant bear hug. "Oh, rock, I love you so much and I am so excited to be sitting on you, even though you are cold and dirty and uncomfortable." She tried to put the most lovesick look on her face that she could manage and blew kisses at it. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Chris bent over with laughter.

Robyn got really into it, striking a series of exaggerated poses around the rock, then getting up and pouncing on the birch trees. "O trees, o nature," she said throatily, wrapping her arms around a skinny white birch tree and fake-kissing it, bringing her lips as close to the peeling white bark as she could bear without thinking too much about the bugs that lived in it. She tossed her hair like a real spotlight-loving prima donna and watched as Chris's pencil flew across the page.

But when she tried to pull away from the tree, she felt a sharp tug on her scalp. "Ow!" she cried, reaching up toward her head. Her hair was stuck on a branch. Fucking nature.

"Are you okay?" Chris was at her side in seconds, his sketch pad and pencil abandoned on the ground. "Don't pull." As he reached over her to try and untangle her hair from the branch, she caught the familiar smell of his Ivory soap mingled with musty, stable-y smells. She glanced up at him, tenderly working on her hair, trying not to pull against her scalp, and she felt her green eyes fill up with fat tears.

"There." Chris pushed the branch away from her head. "You're free." And then he saw her face. "Did I hurt you?" 

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, she chastised herself, but that just made the tears spill over. She covered her face with her hands. "Yes," she said softly, meaning it. Not her hair though, her heart. She tried to turn away from him, but he was too quick. His strong arms pulled her to his chest before she could protest, and once her body was against his, she just melted into the scratchy wool of his sweater. Chris.

She felt his cheek resting again her head. "I know. I'm so sorry, but I swear I will never, ever hurt you again," he whispered as he kissed the spot where her hair had gotten snagged by the tree. She had to close her eyes. "I love you, Robyn. I really do." And before she could stop to think about it anymore, she kissed him. His cheek first, then his eyebrows, his nose, and finally, his soft, warm, waiting mouth.