Page 17 of The Art of Falling

If his goal was to start this off by pissing me off, he’s doing a damn good job.

I don’t care that he looks like a Greek god in his white Trojans T-shirt, his hair still wet from the shower, or that he smells good enough to eat...Nope, don’t care about that at all.

“Please do not ever call me sweetheart again. And let’s not forget thatyousigned up to be a part ofmyproject. If you weren’t going to take it seriously, perhaps you should have requested a different partner. I expect you to be on time at the very least.” I’m honestly shocked I get it all out without a single shake to my voice. That’s how you know I’m mad.

“You’re right,” he quickly concedes, as if realizing he’s waking a sleeping dragon ready to burn him alive with fire. “It won’t happen again.”

“Good.” I give him a curt nod before snagging my bag off the floor and quickly spinning on my heel.

I don’t look back to make sure he’s following me. I already know he is. I can feel his eyes on my back like two heated laser beams burning holes into my skin.

I head to the main lab that Professor Clemens gave me permission to use, flipping on the lights as I push my way inside, Archer quick on my heels.

“So, how does this work?” He walks to the front of the class, his back to me as he looks at the various sketches and paintings that litter the board.

“You’ll sit right there.” I point to the station I came in earlier and set up. “The goal is to draw someone as we see them and then watch as the drawings progress the better we get to know them.”

“So the project is getting to know your subject?” He turns toward me and even though he’s the length of the classroom away, he feels so close I swear I can feel the warmth of his body blanketing mine, that’s how completely he fills a room.

“Kind of. I mean, it’s all about perception. I draw you as you are in the moment but also as I see you—and not in the literal sense.”

For example, right now I’m thinking about drawing you with a donkey ass for a face,I think to myself, letting a small smile tug at my lips at the thought.

“I think I get the gist.”

“Good.” I move closer.

“Do you need me to take off any clothes or—”

“For once, you can keep your clothes on.” I’m quick to interrupt. “I know it may be a first for you, but I promise, you’ll be more comfortable that way.”

“And why is that?” he asks, watching me spill my supplies onto the desk closest to where he’s standing.

“Because it gets really cold in here.” I don’t bother looking up at him to see the smile I know he’s wearing. He finds my discomfort amusing, that much we’ve established.

“So, I just sit here?” He waits until I glance up before gesturing to the stool.

“Yes, you can go ahead and sit down now, actually.” I nod, watching him slide onto the seat, moving back and forth, testing it out.

I purposely picked the worst one we had available—a tall wooden stool with no padding and no back on it. He could have easily sat in a lower chair with a back and even a cushion, where he would no doubt have been more comfortable, but why in the world would I ever make this easier on him after he hijacked this project without giving what I wanted even the smallest amount of consideration?

“So now what?” he asks, watching me organize my supplies on the desk, putting everything just so.

“Now, you sit there.” I lower myself into my own chair, making sure my sketchpad is secure on the easel before selecting my first pencil.

“Aren’t you supposed to ask me questions or something?”

“Not for this session. This session is all about how I see you now. The questions come later so that I can document how my perception of you changes as we go along.”

“So I just sit here?”

“Quietly.”

I set my phone face up on the table and select the playlist I always use when I’m working. It’s a lot of indie singer/songwriter stuff. I find it both calms and motivates me. Clicking play on the first song, it instantly fills the speakers in the classroom. That’s one thing I love about working in here. Built-in Bluetooth speakers. And today I’ve got them up about as loud as they will go.

Archer doesn’t say anything. Hell, he doesn’t even react. He just sits there with patience I had never seen before the first time he sat for our class. So calm and still. I’m pretty sure nothing rattles this man. I mean, if you can sit in front of a classroom of twenty art students in nothing but a cloth covering your junk and not fidget a single time, you’ve got ice in your veins.

Funny enough, I’ve heard Enzo say that very thing about Archer more than once—that he has ice in his veins. That nothing rattles him. That the sky could literally be falling and Archer wouldn’t so much as flinch.

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