When We Collide (Temporarily On Hold)

10 🌸

The room is silent as I push through the doors. If i didn't feel all the eyes on me, I would think it was empty.

I don't dare look around as I make my way toward the tiny stage, my eyes focused on the little stool waiting for me. Maybe If I don't make eye contact, then it won't seem so bad.

A short, stout woman in her late fifties approaches me. Her hair is in a messy grey bun but her blue eyes are warm and welcoming. She smiles at me, before looping her arm through mine.

"Hello dear. I'm Martha, the art professor. Thank you very much for this. It has been a while since we've had a female. I'm sure you could guess the stigma around this." Her laugh is contagious and although I feel anything but funny, I manage an awkward laugh.

"Every day will be a new pose. For today, it is pretty easy. May I?" She gestures to the robe and I know that she wants to pose me like a giant barbie.

Her hands are gentle as she pulls on the robe. I keep forcing myself to breathe and ignore all the eyes I can feel on me.

The cold air hits my bare chest and I can't help the blush that rises up to my cheeks. She fiddles around with the tie, loosening the robe so it is loose around my waist. She then slid my arm out of the sleeve leaving my left side completely bare. She pulls the robe a little on my right side so that it is just sitting on my shoulder,  leaving my breasts and most my stomach above my belly button exposed.

"Beautiful. Now just sit." She helps me to sit gently so that I don't mess up her work, before instructing the class to chose their mediums and begin.

They worked in silence as I stared at the wall in front of me. How much time went by only listening to the scratch of pencils on papers or the sound of swirling brushes in water.

Surprisingly I was growing more comfortable as time went on. No where near ready for full nudity, but I felt like this pose was classy and sexy. Feeling bold I decide to take a quick glance around the room, just wanting a head count really.

A pair of sea green eyes stop my gaze and keep me frozen. The owner sits behind a giant easel, paints strewn around them haphazardly.

I watch, captivated by the intensity, as he looks back and forth between me and the canvas. He seems unaware that I am even watching him, as his eyes flit across the canvas, following every stroke of his brush.

He is so focused as his eyes move back and forth. I can almost see the little bubble that he puts around himself as he paints. He's in his world, no one elses.

He reaches for something, furrowing his eyebrows when it isn't found. My breath catches in my throat as he stands abruptly when he can't find it. All oxygen pulled from the room as I beg my heart to keep beating.

Noah.

How can the guy who is so uninterested in my humanities class be the same guy sitting here, painting with such intensity right now?

All my nerves flood back to me, as I sit still as stone. But I can't take my eyes off of Noah. He seems so different as he gets back to his painting.

I watch in fascination as his hand continues to move across the canvas effortlessly, like he isn't even thinking about what he is doing. He's just painting. Watching him is almost beautiful in it's simplicity.

He raises his hand to wipe some sweat from his brow, accidentally swiping some dark paint onto his skin. I can't help the small smile that finds it's way to my lips. He is so into his work that he doesn't notice the paint on his face.

Suddenly his green eyes snap to mine and for the millionth time, it seems like I am at a loss of oxygen. This time he is seeing me watch him. So many emotions dance in his eyes, that I can't believe this is the same emotionless Noah from my humanities class.

His head tilts to the side as he moves his eyes slowly along my body. A small shiver making its way up my spine. No one has ever looked at me like that before. It's like he isn't wanting to just paint my body, he is wanting to capture my soul, my very essence.

The very thought of someone trying to see behind my mask scares me. I have scars that aren't meant for any body's eyes. I have wounds that will never heal and if he sees them, if anyone sees them, they will know how broken I really am.

I'm not a tornado like them. I'm a hurricane. I don't just touch down and create a little chaos, I destroy everything in anyway I can. I bring the rain and winds, leaving nothing left in my path.

No one needs to dig deeper, they don't need to know my secrets.

It is in this moment that I realize why this job is perfect for me. I am nothing but a vessel. A body for them to look at and draw. No emotions, no drama. Just draw what you see nothing more.

It's the perfect place for me to hide. And yet I can't help but think that I'm not safe from Noah's eyes.

His sea green eyes that are looking at me like I'm more then just a model.

"Alright class. That's it for today. Lets clap for our model" light applause echos as I scramble to get my robe on.

Two hours went by really quickly, not that I am complaining.

"Brinley, Dear." Martha walks up to me, handing me an envelope with my name in neat cursive.

I take it with a small smile, folding it and stuffing it into the robes pocket.

"If you're interested, someone has requested a private session. It seems you've become a muse to some of them." she laughs.

"Private session​? For who?" Martha looks around the room,  before pointing at someone.

"Noah Scott."

<3 <3 <3 <3