Page 2 of Claiming His Muse

But maybe today is the day I get over that fear. It’d be easy to walk up and introduce myself to the guy drawing in front of me. I could use the guise of wanting to see his artwork to get a conversation started. I’m not sure what else we’d talk about, but I could get his name and maybe his phone number. If I get his phone number, I’m sure Miranda would help me message him.

With my mind made up, I focus on the man’s face again. Unsurprisingly, he’s already looking at me, but oddly, his gaze is intense. His hand is still above his page, and he’s focused on my face. Our eyes lock, and I feel a current of electricity pass between the two of us. I wonder if he can feel it too.

After a beat, the corner of his mouth twitches, and his attention shifts back to his page as he resumes drawing. I’m not entirely sure what it means, but it gives me butterflies. I don’t even know what this guy’s name is, and he has me blushing in front of this whole room of people. It strengthens my resolve to talk to him. I have to.

I think I want to write poems about this. No one’s ever made me feel like this before. Just in case it never happens again, I want to make a record of it, capture the emotion while it’s still fresh.

We spend the rest of the session exchanging charged glances. It’s simultaneously the longest and shortest session I’ve ever attended.By the time the professor tells the class their time is up, I’m not sure whether or not I’m relieved or disappointed. On one hand, I’ll be able to talk to the man. On the other, well… there aren’t any excuses not to talk to him.

Still, I told myself I was going to do it, so I rush to get my robe on before he leaves. I tie it haphazardly, not caring that part of my chest is still exposed – it isn’t like I wasn’t completely unclothed just a few seconds ago. When I look up to go find him, he’s already in front of me.

Apparently he wants to talk to me, too.

“Hi,” the man says, giving me a charming smile.

“Hi,” I reply breathlessly, unable to do anything but stare. He’s even more attractive up close.

“I’m Blake,” he says, offering me his hand.

“Jenny,” I say as I reach out. When our palms touch, I feel that current again. “But you probably knew that already. The professors always introduce me. It’s like everyone knows me, but I don’t know any of them.”

I cringe internally, telling myself to shut up. It’s just that when I’m nervous, I tend to babble. Talking to a gorgeous guy is definitely a nerve-wracking experience.

“I only know your name,” he replies smoothly, releasing my hand. “I don’t really know you.”

“Right,” I giggle.

“So,” he says, his expression fond. “I don’t usually draw. I’m a painter, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to sit for a painting I’m working on. You’re absolutely beautiful, and I’d love to capture your likeness in full color.”

“Okay,” I say, hoping I don’t come off as too eager. I can’t help it, though. He’s giving me a sure-fire opportunity to spend more time with him.

“Perfect,” Blake says as he takes his phone out of his back pocket. He unlocks it and hands it over to me with the contacts app open. “We can coordinate our schedules and meet in the studio when we’re both free, if that works for you.”

“Sounds great,” I say while I enter my name into his device. Then, when I finish, I pass it back to him.

“Alright,” he replies, giving me one last warm smile. “I’ll see you soon, Jenny.”

“See you soon, Blake,” I parrot, watching him with a feeling of something like awe as he grabs his bag and heads out.

I change quickly before getting my payment and walking to the bus stop. While I’m waiting for my ride, I pull out my notebook and jot down my thoughts. I want to remember everything exactly as it is. When I get back to my apartment, I’ll sit down and write a proper poem.

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything for myself. School has left me feeling uninspired, but meeting Blake has reignited my passion.

Chapter 3

Blake

As luck would have it, Jenny and I were able to find a time to meet a few days later. Even though I’d love to get her completely alone in my apartment, we both agreed that the studio would be the best place. Even though this painting is a personal project, I still take my craft seriously. The lighting in the university’s studio is far superior to the lighting in my off-campus apartment. If I want this painting to be decent – which I do – we have to do it here.

When I arrive, there’s only one other student in the space. She has her headphones on and doesn’t look up from the page in front of her when I walk in. Maybe fortune will be on our side and no one else will show up. I’m doubtful that’ll happen, though.

Jenny comes in a few minutes after I do. Her eyes find me immediately, and she makes a beeline to where I’m still getting my canvas set up. She’s wearing a flowy pink dress with ribbons in her hair to match. She looks ethereal, out of place against the linoleum floor tiles and stucco walls.

“I hope it’s okay that I dressed up a little,” she says, dropping her bag and pulling a stool in front of me. “It’s not every day that I get to model in clothes.”

“It’s fine by me,” I assure her, grabbing my pencil and starting to sketch out her form. “You look amazing, by the way. That color really compliments your eyes.”

Jenny blushes, ducking her head as she murmurs, “Thank you.”

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