"Who's the girl he's with?" Debbie asked, biting her lower lip as she followed Sarah in the college cafeteria food line.
"I dunno," Sarah grumbled. "But at least it doesn't look like she's a girlfriend. I think they're arguing." She grasped a sandwich and soda.
"Wouldn't that make it more likely that she's a girlfriend?" Debbie chided.
Sarah stifled a snicker. "I don't care. I fully intend to get that juicy hunk o'lovin' to go down on me before the quarter's over - girlfriend or not. Hell, it would probably just make it hotter if he had a girlfriend. I hear he's an art major, and rumor has it they make the greatest lovers."
Debbie grimaced and looked away, absently picking up a burger from under the glass and setting it onto her tray. Adding a fruit juice and salad she moved toward the register. She caught her reflection in the glass behind the counter, and had to fight back on a tear.
Sarah had long, slender legs and hefty breasts a guy could happily suffocate in. With those, her bleached hair, and that gleaming smile, Debbie understood she didn't stand a chance competing.
She looked up to see Sarah watching her. "You're not still crushing on him, are you?" Sarah chuckled. "I don't really think he's your type; sorry kid."
Debbie pulled her wallet from her purse and paid the clerk, unable to say anything for fear of a pained cry escaping her throat. She glanced over to see Tom's lush dark hair, his strong jaw, and eyes so dark and deep you could see galaxies in them.
"No," she finally responded. "I'm not still crushing on him. Don't be silly."
"Good," Sarah giggled, "then he's all mine. Let's walk past his table and eavesdrop."
Debbie blinked her wet eyes and followed. "Not crushing," she breathed too low to be heard, "being crushed is more like it."
Debbie eyed him, his tall, muscular form, from the corner of her eye. She tried to hear the conversation as she walked past, but all she could think of was how kissable his lips looked, and how cute it was the way he ran his fingers through his hair when he was frustrated.
Debbie paused briefly as she was passing him, tilting her head to get a good look. She remembered him from math the previous quarter, how she had managed to sit next to him almost every class. She remembered the day he had to borrow a pen, and her fingers had lighted over the palm of his hand as she'd handed one to him. She cringed, wishing she just had the nerve to sit down next to him and say...
"Oh my gosh!" Debbie squealed, her lunch sprawling across the floor when Tom lunged up angrily from his chair, not seeing her behind him. He turned to her, his mouth open in shock, and they stared at each other for a long moment. The girl he was sitting with huffed in contempt and stomped away.
"Oh god," Tom apologized, "I'm seriously mortified. I am so sorry. Please, let me buy you another lunch."
"No, no," Debbie stammered. "It's okay, I'll just..."
"I insist, really," Tom pressed. "I'm already completely horrified at destroying your meal; if I don't make it up to you I don't see how I could live with myself. Please, let me get you something to eat."
Debbie tried, but couldn't contain the grin that broke out over her face. She glanced briefly past him to see Sarah sitting down at another table, motioning for her to hurry over. "Of course," she relented. "For the sake of your mental well-being, I will let you buy me lunch."
He watched her, his eyes kind and warm, and smiled. "Thank you," he breathed, looking around the room. "Now, I'd be happy to get you a little something here," he nodded to the food line, "but, if you're not busy right now, I'd be thrilled to take you somewhere that they serve edible food."
Her heart leapt uncontrollably in her chest, and she struggled to conceal her exhilaration. "I live for thrills," she consented. She waved goodbye to Sarah as they walked out, biting her tongue excitedly.
Tom led her to his BMW, and a few minutes later she was ordering a country fried. Her mouth watered just looking at the menu photo.
"Your girlfriend isn't going to get jealous if she finds out you had lunch with me, is she?" Debbie spoke as casually as she could, handing her menu to the waitress. She tried to avoid eye contact as she asked, but his silent, understanding grin forced her to look directly at him.
"No girlfriend," he chuckled.
Debbie looked down at the table, hiding her embarrassed blush. They were both quiet for a long moment.
"Actually, that girl I was sitting with earlier was supposed to model for me today," he finally explained. "I have an art class in oil painting, and I need to paint the human form. She's a professional model I hired weeks ago. She's sat for me twice now, but I need at least another three sittings to complete the work. And now she's found a different gig - something that pays better. So she still wants me to pay her for the first two sittings, but the entire painting is ruined now."
"I'm sorry," Debbie felt a twinge of pain watching his face fall.
He shrugged and took a deep breath. "What can you do? Things are what they are, I suppose." He straightened his back, sitting up taller. He smiled kindly, but his eyes still showed the frustration. "I'll just ask the professor for a few extra weeks, and find another model."
"Will they let you turn it in late?" Debbie asked.
Tom nodded, but then shook his head. "No, I'm sure he won't. He already said as much at the first of the class. Late work doesn't count."
Debbie grimaced, gritting her teeth. "What if you had a new model right now?" she probed. "Would you be able to get it done on time?"
Tom gave her a confused glance. His expression became deeply cautious. He thought for a few minutes. "I'll have to start from the beginning. But if I started today, and worked quickly, I might be able to complete it on time. In fact," he rubbed his chin for a second, "actually, I'd have just enough time."
Tom studied Debbie's face intently, and she fidgeted under his scrutiny. "What are you suggesting?"
Debbie took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Then she shrugged. "If you don't need to have a professional, I could be your model."
She kicked herself inside. The words echoed in meaningless stupidity through her mind. In an instant she imagined him painting her plain face and bright red hair on a canvas, and regretting ever letting her convince him to do it.
"Seriously?" he gasped.
Debbie had to struggle to act natural. She waved a quivering hand as nonchalantly as she could manage. "I know; it's a dumb idea. Never mind."
"Actually, if you would sit for me, I'd be forever in your debt."
A thousand possibilities for repayment instantly raced through Debbie's mind, and she hurriedly dismissed them all - most of them, anyway.
"Sure," she coughed a little to hide how forced the word was. A shiver ran up along her spine as she wondered what it was going to be like posing for him, with his trained eyes scrutinizing every detail.
"Fantastic! Really?" His voice wavered enthusiastically. He rested a grateful hand on her arm, sending chills racing through her body. She left her arm motionless, soaking in his touch, until he pulled away a moment later.
Debbie laughed, the tingling excitement growing in her chest as she thought about spending time with him. "You don't mind working with an untrained model?"
He looked down sheepishly. "I'll be honest," he submitted. "When I first saw you on campus I thought I'd love to do a painting of you. I was too embarrassed to ask you to pose for me, though."
"It's nothing," Debbie waved her hand casually. Her voice cracked, however, betraying her. "I'm happy to help out."
Tom furrowed his brow, thinking deeply. "I already have everything I need in the car. And it's the perfect day to get started. There's a rock on top of a hill, and the sunsets behind it are absolutely breathtaking."
"Sounds perfect," Debbie grinned. The waitress set their food out on the table.
"If you don't have plans tonight, we can head out right after we eat," Tom suggested.
Debbie shifted uneasily in her seat, but smiled in reply. An hour later she watched nervously out the car windows as Tom drove her up through the scenic canyon, towering evergreens blending with sprawling maples and oaks, the leaves just now starting to burst with early autumn hues. She fought to focus on the wonders of nature, desperate to push aside the nagging realization that, in a matter of a few minutes, Tom would be analyzing and scrutinizing every imperfection of her face and hair, and it was far too late to back out.
"It's gorgeous, isn't it?" Tom mused.
Debbie nodded. "I like the fall. It's my favorite season." She looked over at him, admiring his chiseled face. She grinned softly as she watched him guide the car, his arms exuding strength while he gripped the wheel. "So you plan to be an artist then?"
Tom gave a half smile. "It's more a hobby," he admitted. "But I pretty much don't have to work. The family has money. So yes, I guess I'm going to be an artist. How about you?"
"I don't know the first thing about art," Debbie laughed. "Right now I'm a business major, but I was thinking I might want to switch to something else."
"Any idea what?"
She shook her head. "But business is a bit dull. I think I might need something with more challenge for me."
