Page 34 of Distorted Obsession

“Markus,” he replies, returning my grin with his own. “Looks like we’ll be working together, at least for this first assignment.”

Yes, we will.

I bite my lip, imagining the ways we can makearttogether.

His gaze travels to my mouth before he meets my eyes. “I guess we are,” I say.

Then Markus moves his chair around the table, plants it next to me, and sits down. “What do you have in mind?” he asks.

The banter feels so natural, and for a split second, I’m just a college student in class working with this fine ass man. I breathe in the moment, appreciating it for what it is—a moment.

Clearing my throat, I work to get my mind out of the gutter. “That depends. We’re doing photorealism, so we need to decide how we want to incorporate that.”

He nods, pulling out his phone. “Great point,” he agrees as he turns his phone screen.

My mouth falls open, “Holy shit, these are amazing,” I gasp, admiring the beautiful black and white images that look so much like photographs. “Did you draw these?”

Markus places his cell on the tabletop. “Each and every one of them.”

“Then this should be a smoother process than I initially thought.”

Quirking his blond brow, he quips, “Did you expect it to be difficult?”

My cheeks heat. “Just a bit. You never know what type of partner you’ll end up with when you’re assigned like this,” I confess.

Clutching his hands against his chest, Markus tilts his head to the side as he throws it back. “You mortally wound me, milady,” he remarks, making me giggle.

“Well, my apologies then, kind sir. I will refrain, henceforth, from committing such an egregious offense.”

He shakes his head, trying to hold back his laughter.

“Remember, you should have some initial plan in place by the end of this period,” the professor exclaims, reminding me to focus.

“Shall we?” Markus inquires.

Bobbing my head, I reply, “We shall.” Then, we spend the remainder of class discussing some ideas for our group project.

We’re murmuring about possible projects when someone announces, “Class is over.” Both of our gazes lift to see students exiting the class.

“Thanks,” I state, beginning to gather my things.

“Let’s exchange numbers,” Markus requests.

I quickly agreed, pausing to take out my phone, enter his number, and text him.

“Got it. Let’s talk tonight and pick a time outside of class to meet,” he suggests as I grab my bag and head for the door. Markus follows me out of the classroom.

“Sounds like a plan.”

We’re walking down the hall when he nudges my shoulder. “So, I never asked. Is this your first year at Groveton? I’ve never seen you around before.”

“It’s my first year.”

“I figured,” he retorts, making me arch an eyebrow. Noticing my reaction, he swiftly adds, “I just mean you—I’d remember seeing someone as beautiful as you.”

Chuckling, I say, “Nice save.”

Markus smiles. “I try. So, are you an art major? Not too many students take Professor Arbour’s class.”

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