Page 34 of Shame

When I return,she’s on the phone, too, but she gets off. “I gotta go, Luke is back.”

Then she crawls into my lap, grabbing my hands and shoving them up her shirt. My little hedonist. “Where were we?”

“You wanted to tell me something weird.”

She licks her lips, and I lean in to capture the wet streak with my mouth.

“Luke,” she whispers as we topple sideways.

“Yeah.”

“Wait, I was serious.”

“But then you did something sexy, and I couldn’t help myself.” I stretch out on my back and she climbs on top of me.

Biting her lip, she glances down at me and flutters her eyelashes.

I laugh. “What is it?”

“I want to draw a picture of you.”

I give her my best raunchy grin. “Sure.”

“Naked.”

“What?”

“It’s for a project…” She scrambles off me and lies down, putting her earnest face right up against mine.

Of course I’m going to say yes. I’ll never say no to her.

Coming to university and falling in love on day three was not my plan, but Grace Dunn is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I’ll do anything for her.

“The English Lit department…” She blinks in my face. “Luke. You did it again.”

“Sorry.” I swallow hard. “I was just thinking that I really love you.”

Shock rolls over her face. “What?”

I sit up. “It’s okay if it’s too soon. I just thought you might want to know. The last three months have been…you’ve saved my ass. And I can’t wait to see you at the end of every day. I never want to let you go. Because I love you.”

She kisses me hard on the mouth, whispering something back that sounds a lot likeI love you, too, but I’m not sure, because my heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my ears.

After what Sam just told me, pledging my heart to Grace is a dumb move. But it’s the truth, and if my parents want me to transfer to the London School of Economics, they’re going to be disappointed. I’m not fucking smart enough to go there, anyway.

If it wasn’t for Grace, I’d already be failing out of U of T.

So I yank my fucked up scatterbrain back and give Grace my full attention. “Start over again. What’s this project?”

She smiles sweetly. “The English Lit department hosts it every year. It’s called the Art/Lit Project, and writers and artists are paired together to create mutually reflective pieces. I want to participate as an artist, and the poet I paired with has written a piece about…” She trails her fingers down my belly, to the muscle that curves over my hip. Her fingertips walk a path along that ridge until she dips them under the waistband. Then she smooths her hand flat and rubs my flat, tense abs. “This.”

“There’s a poem about abs?”

She nods vigorously. “And I really love it, so I want to draw something amazing to go with it. So I need an amazing model. What do you think?”

I think I’m taking my clothes off and sitting still for a while.

17

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