Alternatively

A Work of Art

It was supposed to distract her. You know, be a relaxing break from her classes and provide a good GPA booster. The goal was not to see her cute barista completely naked while holding a sword.

She busied herself with her charcoal, avoiding the model at all costs. She knew what she was signing up for when she registered; a simple art class studying organic figures of life. Piper had waggled her eye brows, informing her that there would be nude models. Annabeth had scoffed and told her to grow up, she could handle a naked body. She didn't feel much like scoffing when she was in the presence of a very fine naked body.

"If you'll note the shadows in the contours of his torso," the instructor called melodically from her own easel. "The line of his back seems to bleed into the shadow."

Annabeth produced the most perfect piece of charcoal she could scrounge from her case, quickly ducking into her sketchbook so she didn't have a chance of accidentally looking. It was almost ridiculous; she had no reason to be flustered. They had seen three models before this one and none of them had flushed her face with red.

"Yo," hissed the girl to her left. "You might wanna put something on your paper."

"I know," she snapped, immediately regretting the outburst on account of everyone turning to look at her.

To his credit, he was very nonchalant about the whole thing. Granted, it was his job to stand there and pose, but he wasn't ruffled by the fact she was ruffled, which of course, continued to ruffle her further.

Her brain was on the fritz.

Just draw the barista, she frowned, gripping the charcoal. You're being horrible.

She cautiously glanced up, figuring out how he was standing so she could look away before any eye contact could ensue. He was striking one hell of a pose, she'd give him that. The other models had posed simply, probably due to the fact they had to hold them for a while. This guy was devoted to his warrior stance, sturdy and valiant in form. She could only guess his expression matched, even though the class focused mainly on the body. She started to sketch the basic shapes, settling her face and steeling herself before she need to get another look.

However, looking up provided a whole new predicament. He had shifted into a completely new pose and there was no recovering the pose she had sketched on the paper. She looked around, seeing if anyone else noticed or shared her concern. No one seemed to care, so she flipped to a new page to restart. This new stance was even more extravagant and she wondered what his instruction had been.

She got a little further and again, he had completely changed. She huffed, setting her hand down and raising her eye brow. He merely smirked, glancing at her from the corner of his eye.

This asshole, she scowled, going back to her paper.

She really wasn't an artistic person; all of her projects were so angle oriented and she wasn't the best at basic things such as color and light techniques. Pair that with her intense perfectionism and art class wasn't as relaxing as it was cracked up to be. She had to pay close attention to a subject, but when her subject purposefully changed poses every five seconds, things got more complicated.

He moved again, this time with his back to her and his head turned to look over his shoulder. They had never really talked outside of him confirming her daily double shot vanilla latte, so the teasing expression aimed her way was a little startling. She gave up trying to follow his changes, shaking her head when he checked to see if she was paying attention.

"Ms. Chase?" hummed the professor. "Is there a problem?"

"No," she replied coolly, pretending to poise her charcoal over the paper. "It's fine."

The model blew on the tip of his sword prop as if it were a smoking gun.

He was infuriating.

She scribbled out a brief, "Stop it" on her blank page, holding it up so he could see.

He merely smiled before ducking into a dab.

That ended up being the pose she drew, though not with much finesse or care. It was actually just a stick figure, much like one you'd see scratched on a desk in high school. The class was dismissed not long after he started to stab the air and she hardly took any time to pack up. Her familiarity might have eased the tension, but she never could forget that he was swinging more than one sword around. He was shrugging on a robe by the time she darted out the door.

The next morning, she lay in bed for a couple minutes longer, debating whether or not she absolutely needed her coffee for the day.

On one hand, she had a long day of calculus and design classes ahead of her. One boy shouldn't be the reason she forewent a necessary morning boost.

On the other hand, that boy's body had been seared into her mind and she couldn't even think about him without blushing.

She decided fuck it and tore the covers off, determined not to make things weird with a person she doesn't even speak to. She got ready with the intensity of one going into war, applying her eye liner with a grim expression and raking her hair into a pony tail with warranted ferocity. Her walk to the shop was more of an assault to the sidewalk, her boots echoing in the clear morning air. The autumn chill didn't have a chance to seep through her jacket, as she came upon the quaint store front in what seemed to be record time. Any other day, she'd admire the atmosphere and take a moment to appreciate it's vibe. It was lovely, a beach style emitting from the drift wood decor and blue accenting in the tans.

This was not the day to reflect on the interior design.

She breezed in with forced ease, casually scanning the staff for a scruff of black hair. As usual, he wandered between register and coffee machines, calling out names and handing over brimming cups. She took her place in line and tried figuring out if she wanted him to take her order or not.

"Double shot today?"

Annabeth blinked, meeting his gaze over the head of the girl in front of her. "Uh, yeah."

"I'll take you at this register," he nodded her to the right.

She handed over her card and looked at his name tag. Percy.

Huh, she mused. Unusual.

"I didn't take you for an art student."

"I didn't take you for a nude model," she snorted.

The teasing look from before filtered back into his eyes. "Touche. Though I was only doing a favor for a friend."

"Some favor."

He smiled, passing her the receipt. "Did you do me justice, at least?"

"I'd say so," she smirked. "I really captured the personality of the subject."

He went to make her drink and she stood at the counter, fiddling with some straws. There had been a twinge of disappointment in finding that he wasn't a regular, which didn't make much sense. Was she really so shallow?

The shop moved around her, but unlike most places she went, it didn't overload her senses. The gentle talking, the whir of coffee machines, the soft and often imperceptible music settled in her bones, grounding her. Maybe she didn't make a ritual of visiting every morning for the caffeine, but for the way she could steady herself for the day to come.

"You should show me what you came up with one day."

She turned, taking the cup from his hand. "Oh yeah?"

"I mean," he boyishly propped himself up on his elbows. "If you got to see this masterpiece, it's only fair I see what I inspired."

"You're cheeky," she rolled her eyes.

"So I've been told."

I'm finally done with school, congradu-fucking-lations to me