His Model Student: A Student-Teacher Romance

17. In his car

[RECAP: Sera has agreed to model for a nude portrait, but will Mr Marek back out of the deal?]

For the rest of the week Sera's apprehension grew.

Mr Marek said nothing to her about it in school and she started to wonder if he had changed his mind. Or even if she had imagined the whole thing.

"Something's up with you," Joel said, ever perceptive.

"There's nothing up with me," Sera told him. For the moment it was true.

Joel scrutinised her. They were sketching a taxidermy fox that day. Some ancient samples of butterflies in glass cases had been dredged up from a dusty cupboard in the science lab. A long-forgotten biology teacher had collected them, along with the fox.

Most students had been too squeamish to sit before the stuffed fox with its weird frozen stare so it ended up on the table shared by Joel, Lois and Sera.

"I wish we had the butterflies," Lois said. "The fur or hair on this thing is impossible."

Joel wasn't letting it drop. "There's something you're not telling me."

"I'm just getting some grief at home which is stressing me out," Sera said. This wasn't exactly a lie as she often had stress with her parents, everyone did.

"Marisa?"

"Marisa." The others knew Sera's stepmother all too well.

Mr Marek came to review their progress at that moment, and the subject was dropped.

* * *

At the end of evening class that week Mr Marek finally spoke to her again. The usual people were in the Norfolk Arms once again, Jasper regaling everyone with his scandalous theatrical stories.

As everyone left Mr Marek stopped Sera. "I'll give you a lift."

She guessed that he wanted to speak to her so didn't protest. It was drizzling which at least gave the weather as an excuse.

Jasper overheard and gave Sera a knowing wink. He enjoyed finding any opportunity to stir the pot, he was like Joel in that regard. "We'll see you both next Thursday, then." He put a very subtle emphasis on "both" which Sera noticed, and hoped that Mr Marek hadn't. He was striding ahead of her to the car so hopefully he hadn't.

Once again he opened the door for her before getting into the driver's seat. Sera was completely on edge. What if he had changed his mind? She would be both relieved and disappointed.

"Are you still set for Saturday?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I'll drive you past my place now so you can see where it is. If you need me to pick you up, just let me know."

Sera told him she would be fine. She preferred to make her own way there, it avoided awkward questions if her father or Marisa saw his car. Or Mrs Carstairs, their horribly nosey, curtain-twitching neighbour.

"Do I need to wear or bring anything specific?" she asked. She still had a tiny hope that perhaps he would want to draw her clothed. If not, was she supposed to bring her own robe? Did artists just have various ones lying around for their models to use?

He turned to her as he waited at traffic lights and flicked his eyes over her, extinguishing that hope. "Nothing, just come as you are."

Sera swallowed. Her lips felt dry and she longed to put lip balm on them, but although she had some in her bag, she didn't like to do so in front of Mr Marek.

His place was in a relatively easy part of town to get to, it was just east of the centre. A ten minute walk from the bus stop, she calculated. Sera liked walking at night as it helped clear her head.

"Number twenty-seven. Next to the one with the boat," he pointed out. From the look of the boat, on a trailer draped in tarpaulin that was covered with a thick layer of leaves, it looked as though it was rarely moved. Sera wondered if Mr Marek owned the house or was leasing it.

He drove back around the block and headed in the direction of Sera's house. What if he hadn't dropped her off that first time? Would he have approached her somewhere else with his request? What if her parents had been there when he showed up? Sera was running through many different scenarios in her mind.

At her house he stopped the car. "I thought you might have had second thoughts."

It was a challenge rather than an observation. He was daring her not to have them.

"No, it's all good." It wasn't, it was terrifying. But she was determined to see this through.

Before letting her out of the car he reached for a piece of paper and scribbled something down. "Here's my number. Any problems, just let me know." His fingers brushed hers briefly as he handed it to her, and a shock ran up her arm. She bit her lip and looked up at him but couldn't make out his expression. It was intense, that much at least.

Mr Marek opened the door for her and once more she went inside, feeling his eyes burning on her back as she walked up the path to the front door. Less than twenty-four hours to D-day. Drawing day. Being drawn day.