Page 49 of Drifting

“Do you have a portfolio? I’d love to see it.”

She beams. “Sure, you can see it. I’m not that good, though. What do you like to do?”

“I’m sure you’re great at it.” I bite my lip before saying, “Racing is my true passion.”

Paige’s big, brown eyes blink rapidly. “Like, with cars?”

“Yep. Street racing.”

Her eyes widen. “Isn’t that illegal?”

I laugh. “Only if you get caught.”

“Is that how you got hurt?” She points at my leg.

I open my mouth to tell her, but the bell rings. Too bad. I didn’t want this class to end.

Gathering our stuff, I answer, “Yes, that’s how I got hurt. I’ll tell you about it another time.”

Paige walks with me partway to my next class, which is Art.

When our paths split, I say, “Bye. I’ll see you in first period tomorrow.”

“If you happen to be late again, I’ll save you a seat,” she promises.

I step into the art room to find evenly spaced stools with an easel sitting in front of them. There’s only one seat left, and it happens to be right beside someone who makes my heart do a double thump. Cam.

Hobbling over, I take the seat beside him.

His blue eyes sparkle. “Please tell me you’re here to be the nude model for me.”

My head snaps back as my eyebrows shoot up into my hairline. Nude? Did I hear him right?

Biting his bottom lip, his eyes wander over me. “You have a damn fine body to paint. I’m sure Mr. Harrison won’t mind.”

Asshole. He had me going there for a minute. I should be offended and punch him in the face, but for some reason, I’m flattered. A plan forms in my mind.

“Should I strip right here?” I move my hand down to my jeans to unbutton them.

His expression is priceless. His mouth falls open, and his eyes widen. He didn’t think I had the guts to strip.

I touch my zipper, wiggle my hips a bit, then laugh. “Gotcha!”

He blows out a breath. “Tease.”

The teacher strolls into the room. “All right, class, please pay attention.”

Cam turns in his seat, adjusting himself, and a smile lifts the corner of my mouth.

“Today, we’ll be painting fruit.” The teacher reveals a basket of fruit.

“Aww!” came from around the class.

Cam leans over and whispers, “I’d rather be painting your body.”

Blushing, I pick up the paintbrush and mix my paint.

I spend the rest of the class perfecting my apple. Every so often, I peer over at Cam. If he catches me, I pretend to be interested in his canvas, and I catch him staring at me a couple of times.

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