Devon Hartford - Reckless

“Wow, what a stalker,” Madison said. “Cute stalker, but man, he was desperate. Or head-over heels for you know who!” she grinned.

I dropped my head back into my hands. “No, please no. I’ve tried to be nice, but no matter what I tell him, he keeps coming back.”

“You’re not sending him mixed signals, are you?”

“What?! No! Not at all. I’ve told him over and over again I’m not interested.”

“Maybe you’re telling him too forcefully,” Madison suggested.

“I’d rather not tell him at all, but he won’t leave me alone,” I groaned as I pulled my laptop out of my book bag and turned it on.

“He was pretty hot,” Madison said thoughtfully.

“You think so?”

“Are you blind? Of course he was.”

“But,” I said nervously, “isn’t it weird to be attracted to another guy when you’re dating Jake?”

“Wait, are you saying you’re attracted to this guy Hunter?” Madison gasped. “What about Christos?”

“What? No! Don’t turn this around on me! I’m totally attracted to Christos. He’s uber hot. Hunter isn’t even close.” I took a relaxing breath. “But I mean, Hunter is good looking. How could I not notice when he stands naked ten feet away from me every time I have sculpting class?”

Madison gave me a long, considering look. After a minute, she spoke, “Sam, relax. When you fall in love, the rest of the world doesn’t cease to exist. It’s still filled with attractive people. If you happen to notice that some random guy is hot, who cares?”

“I’m sorry, Mads. You’re right. I guess it’s just bugging me because I’m being forced to stare at the same random guy naked, several hours at a stretch. Twice a week. For ten weeks straight.”

“Don’t worry, Sam. You’ll be over him sooner or later. His cock will become invisible to you,” she grinned.

“Like someone lopped it off?” I smiled hopefully.

“That’s not a bad idea,” she giggled. “But no, eventually you just won’t care anymore. Staring at Hunter’s hickory dickory will become business as usual.”

I laughed. “That is so wrong.”

“What, it’s made of wood, isn’t it?” she giggled.

Madison putting the idea of wood into the same notion as Hunter’s unmentionables was having the wrong effect. “Not helping,” I warned.

Madison cackled at me. “Fine, then pretend it’s made of broken glass.”

I winced. “Ew!”

“Ok, how about a red-hot rod of iron?”

“Not helping!”

“Okay, fine! Pretend his thing is a gun and bullets come out,” she giggled. “But make sure his safety is on when he’s cocked and loaded!”

“Mads! Stop!”

We both broke into laughter.

SAMANTHA

As much as I wanted to, I still hadn’t agreed to move in with Christos. I felt like I was too young and it was too soon. No matter how much I missed seeing him, no matter how hard I had to work to pay my bills, moving in seemed too big a step.

The other pressing problem was my parents. How could I possibly tell them? They’d go thermo-nuclear. I couldn’t imagine telling them. But if I did move in with Christos, I would have to. My parents had co-signed my lease on my apartment, and at the very least, they would deserve to know my new address, in case of emergencies, or whatever.

Groan.

Moving in would have to wait.

Fortunately, in the mean time, Christos and I had solved the problem of not seeing each other enough by me coming over to work at the studio space he’d made for me.

I loved it. Now I was seeing Christos several days a week, and Spiridon as well, who obviously loved having me around too.

The only downside to this arrangement was working in the studio alongside Christos proved a bit more of a challenge than I’d planned.

I hadn’t factored in the constant supply of nude cuties parading through.

Whenever Christos had a naked model sitting in front of him, thrusting her bouncy bits in his face, and by extension mine, I had to restrain my urge to storm over and throw blankets over the women on a minute-by-minute basis.

Sigh.

But I reminded myself, Christos was making art. Not hosting a live sex show. Yes, there was a difference. Not that I’d been to a live sex show, but I’m pretty sure they were more exciting than a nude woman sitting frozen in one position for four hours, minus the brief breaks.

Double Sigh. I would get used to it. It was art, not porn. Art!

Art!!

Seriously, it didn’t bother me.

Not one bit.

Besides, who was I to judge? I stared at naked Hunter all the time these days, and he did throw himself at me constantly, yet Christos didn’t care. I could picture Lame Damian freaking out if he’d found out I’d been staring at a hot guy like Hunter naked twice a week.

Sigh. I didn’t want to be a Lamian. Believe it or not, Christos trusted me. Imagine that. I realized I owed it to him to trust him too. It helped I was on hand to keep an eye on him.

JUST in case.

Because I was in NO way jealous.

Seriously.

Not jealous at ALL.

>:-|

The model today was Isabella. She’d been around a lot lately. Her body was perfect, as in, not one flaw. Her skin had neither freckle nor mole. Her dark hair was luxuriant, her cheekbones delicate and symmetrical, her eyes alluring and radiant, her mouth inviting and plump. Her proportions were perfect, her breasts full, her waist tiny, her hips womanly.

Not one bit jealous! Not a molecule of jealousy in me. If I walked through a jealousy detector, like, the most sensitive jealousy detector ever invented, it wouldn’t beep and sirens wouldn’t go off.

Because I. Wasn’t. Jealous.

I did my best to ignore Isabella. She ignored me with casual ease. Snooty bitch. I mean, she was a terrific model. Never moved a muscle. Totally professional.

I was convinced that Isabella was toying with me every time she came to the studio. She tried to lay claim to Christos in little ways. Touching him on the shoulder during breaks, offering to get him water, instead of him doing it for her. Giggling like a porn star at everything he said. Even when he said things to her like, “(picture Christos holding his mouth open while no sound came out).”

You get the idea.

Constantly.

Me and her were best friends.

Fake Smile!

To Christos’ credit, he handled everything completely professionally. He never seemed nervous, never worried that I was keeping an eye on him.

During one of the rare breaks when Isabella wasn’t hovering around him, Christos walked over to where I sat at my easel, working on my painting of an arrangement of three Calla Lilies.

“Wow, that’s coming along great, agápi mou. I love your composition, the way you’ve painted the corner of the window behind the lilies, framing the vase.”

“Thanks, Christos,” I smiled.

He scrutinized the painting more closely. “Nice brushwork on the petals. And you really nailed the warm and cool of the white. Normally, people just squeeze white paint out of the tube. But I can see you’ve mixed in hints of lemon yellow for the cool whites and cadmium yellow deep for the warm whites. Excellent,” he smiled and pecked me on the lips. “You’re a natural, like I’ve always said.”

“Wow,” I smiled, “you never miss anything when it comes to painting.”

But I think he might have missed my Isabella-induced all-day discomfort. I had a tinge of worry that Christos’ peck on my lips was too brief, too distant, like he didn’t want to look too familiar with me in front of Isabella.

Crap. I realized I was making myself miserable by making things up, looking for problems that probably weren’t there. Isabella wasn’t even in the room. So there was nothing for me to worry about, right?

“Is it just me, or is Isabella not picking up on my signals?”

Dread punched my heart. Signals? As in, Hey baby, as soon as my dumpy girlfriend Samantha isn’t looking, we should totally jump each other like jaguars. And Isabella would purr like Catwoman, Rawr!

I so needed to murder her before she left today. I wondered if you could find instructions on the internet for how to cut a car’s brake lines? Wasn’t that what they always did on TV shows?

“Samantha? You there?” Christos asked.

“Oh, sorry. What were you saying?” I asked guiltily.

“I just said, I’ve told Isabella a hundred times I have a girlfriend, who I love, who is sitting twenty feet away from us. Chick can’t take a hint. And by hint I mean hammer, because, Jesus Christ, what part of ‘girlfriend sitting right over there’ is she not picking up on?” Christos smirked and smiled at me while caressing my cheek with his thumb.

Oh, that’s what my boyfriend was saying.

He continued, “You’d think by now Isabella would’ve realized that she’s so not in your league, and would’ve just given up on me. I guess some rare women aren’t cursed with the female ‘I’m ugly’ gene, and end up over-rating themselves.”

Was he talking about the same Isabella I had dagger eyes for? The perfect one he was painting?

“Not everyone can be as blessed by beauty as you, agápi mou,” he smiled.

Wait, was Christos bullshitting me? I searched his eyes.

All I saw was honesty and love.

I was an idiot for doubting him and…swoon.

I wondered if Christos could send Isabella home early today. Not because I was jealous, but because I desperately needed to jump him right at that moment.