“I’m really happy with it,” I say, feeling a mix of shyness and satisfaction at her compliment.
Looking at the finished painting, I can see what I pictured in my head. There’s one spot where the shadows could be deeper, but I’m not fixating on it. Not after Mrs. Bennett’s validation.
She moves on to the next table.
“Will you sell it?” Evelyn asks.
I shrug. “I’m not sure.” I’m torn between keeping it as a milestone in my artistic journey, while the practical side of me knows sales will fund my future house and garden. I usually sell my paintings at the shop here for extra money. They sell for a crazy amount, due to the Lincoln name.
I walk over to check out Evelyn’s painting, and it looks just like New York City General Hospital, brought to life with her vibrant colors.
I lean in for a closer look. “I love how yours turned out.”
Her eyes light up, and she beams, practically bouncing on her heels. “Thanks, I'll hang it in my bedroom.”
I snicker, but it dies on my tongue at the sound of heavy shoes walking through the classroom. Designer shoes are not what you’d usually hear around here. Naturally, it draws my attention, my gaze focusing on the man walking toward Mrs. Bennett. I’d recognize that build mixed with swagger, no matter how many months have passed. A cold wash of dread spreads through my chest.
Him.
My fingers tighten around the edge of the desk until my knuckles whiten, but I force my expression to remain neutral. I lower my eyes to the canvas, pretending to concentrate on a detail in the bottom corner while positioning my body so my hair falls forward, partially covering my face. The last thing I need is for him to recognize me.
“Well, hello, Oliver,” Evelyn mumbles.
“No, Evelyn, we don’t like cocky pricks.”No matter how hot they are.I don’t hold back. He’s my brother’s best friend, butthat doesn’t mean I have to like him, even though he’s probably here looking for his mother, as she teaches classes.
She turns on me so fast, leaning across the table to argue. “Are you kidding? Look at him.”
“I am, unfortunately. You’d think with his money, he could afford a suit that fits.” As I glance around the room, I can see every student here has their eyes set on him. The women straighten their posture, and the men want to shake his hand. I return my gaze to his pinstripe suit that sticks to him like glue.
“I bet you like him. You just pretend not to.” Evelyn snorts.
I stare at her, momentarily speechless, before muttering, “Trust me, that couldn’t be further from the truth.” The fact is, I did until he turned me down.
His shoes click, and he winks at me, as he comes to my side in front of Evelyn’s work. “Nice,” he says to Evelyn. She tucks her hair behind her ear, as if she’s loving his compliment.
I shift my weight slightly away from him, creating distance without being obvious about it.
He turns his attention to me, his eyes lingering a moment too long. My chest tightens as the familiar scent of his cologne brings back memories I’ve tried hard to bury. I breathe through my mouth instead of my nose, pretending he doesn’t affect me at all.
“I’ll make sure to tell my seamstress that her alterations need work.”
My mouth parts as a gasp slips. Fuck. He heard what I said. But I don’t let him see my embarrassment. Instead, I bite back. “It can’t be comfortable wearing a shirt that looks like it’s going to pop a button.”
He smirks, cocking his head slightly. “Are you checking me out, Karley Maddox?”
“You fucking wish.” I roll my eyes. What is it about him that has me seeing red? Plus, I hate it when he uses my full name. It reminds me of the times with my parents.
“Then how would you know I’m going to pop a button? My eyes are up here.” He points to his face, where his blue eyes are gleaming with delight. It adds to my temperature rising.
“Valid point,” Evelyn mumbles. My eyes dart to hers. I widen them to convey a silentare you serious?
She pinches her lips together, but the edges slip up.
“Even your friend agrees.” Oliver’s light tone pulls my gaze back to him. His eyebrow lifts in a silent challenge.
I’ll never admit to checking him out. “She’s a fan of yours. I'm not.”
He tips his head back and chuckles. Inside, I cringe at the attention he brings to the table. Several heads turn in our direction, curious eyes darting between us, whispers starting to spread. Mrs. Bennett pauses mid-sentence at the front of the room, her eyebrows raised. I can feel Evelyn’s wide-eyed stare boring into the side of my face, along with at least half a dozen students who’ve stopped what they were doing to watch this unexpected interaction.
