Page 87 of Dirty Shots

Chapter Twenty-seven

Anya

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The following day, Anya stepped back onto campus.

She felt self-conscious, in a way she never had before, as though she no longer truly belonged here, like an imposter everyone was staring at. She knew that was mainly down to the newspaper article Gavin had pasted all over the place, but moving in with Eric probably hadn’t helped.

Quickly, she glanced around, trying to see if any of the posters remained, but none stood out. Someone had taken them down—either her friend, Nadine, or else, she guessed, some of the faculty members. It didn’t matter anyway. After Saturday, everyone would know what she’d been up to. She just hoped any reporting of the exhibition would have a more positive spin than the article Jonathan Turner had written.

The afternoon was giving way to evening, and there weren’t many people around, but she knew Gavin finished practice about now and would be heading across campus to go back to his dorm.

She just had to wait.

Feeling conspicuous, she checked her phone to make sure Eric hadn’t called her. He’d been to see his doctor, and had the dosage on his meds adjusted, though it would take a few days for them to kick in. He seemed better, though. More in control. He’d been to the gym that morning, and though he’d had some small things to finish for the exhibition, he was aware of the time he allowed himself to do the work in.

Weirdly, since finding out about the bipolar, Anya felt more relaxed about their relationship. She’d always worried about his search for perfection, and that he would never have found what he sought in her, but now she knew it wasn’t really him that drove his quest for perfection. It was his illness. Neither of them was perfect, and they could be imperfect together. His reaction to seeing her with Logan had also made her more secure. She’d always wanted him to show some jealousy, however crazy that made her. Something to show she meant more to him than just a model or a prop. Eric had done that now.

Movement came across the lawn, a group of young men, laughing and shoving each other on the shoulder as they threw joking insults at each other.

Anya’s heart rate stepped up, her breath quickening. She pushed down her emotions, hiding them. She couldn’t allow him to see she was nervous.

“Gavin,” she called to the group. “Have you got a minute?”

The broad-shouldered quarterback stopped and stared at her. She’d deliberately worn the heels he’d called her a prostitute in the other day, and a short, tight fitting dress.

His teammates whooped and punched him again.

“Yeah, go, Gavin. The man!’”

“Someone’s getting some tonight!”

Anya did her best not to roll her eyes at their juvenile behavior.

“What do you want, Anya?” Gavin was a little more cautious, suspicious of seeing her there.

She forced herself to smile sweetly. “Don’t worry, Gavin. I’m not going to start a fight with you.”

“You’re not?”

“No, actually, I wanted to thank you.”

His mouth dropped. “You want to thank me?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

The other guys were still hanging around. “I’ll catch up with you later,” he told them.

A few more suggestive remarks were called over their shoulders as the young men walked away, but Anya ignored them.

Gavin faced her. “So, you wanted to thank me?” He didn’t hide the disbelief in his tone.

She forced herself to smile again. “Yes. Those posters you put up all around school really helped boost the popularity of the exhibition. It’s a sell-out and people are desperate for tickets.”

“Oh, right,” he mumbled, glancing away, guiltily.

“You know,” she put on her best sex kitten act, sidling up to him, “modeling for those photographs has done so much for my self-confidence. I know I didn’t act it too much, but all those times I rejected you was really just because I was so shy. I was inexperienced, and I knew a guy like you had had plenty of girls. I didn’t want to look like an idiot with you.”

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