And that was the cherry on top of my day; I had to actually talk to him. I slouched in my chair before sitting up straight again. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get comfortable.

He turned in my direction and I caught him looking me up and down like some sort of display in a museum. I didn’t think he remembered me and decided that might be for the best. His eyes stopped on my chest and I was pretty sure I saw his eyebrows rise slightly. Typical male, I thought. I quickly crossed my arms and cleared my throat, causing his eyes to shift back up. "We should probably get started on this project. I want as much information as possible to start my painting on Wednesday."

"Well, why don't you start by telling me your name? The whole class already knows mine." He started to tap the eraser of his pencil on his nose while looking right at me with those eyes. It would be so easy to get lost in them. Those eyes could get me into a lot of trouble.

"My name is Alexandra Riley, but my friends call me Alex. I grew up in Greenwich, Connecticut and right now I’m majoring in Pre-Med, but my dream is to become a Graphic Artist which is why I slipped this class into my schedule. Anything else?" I removed my arms from my chest and reached for my pencil, writing Dane Wright at the top of my page. I couldn’t believe I just told him all that. That wasn’t something I usually admitted out loud, but for some reason I couldn’t stop myself. No going back now.

"Why are you Pre-Med if what you really want to be a Graphic Artist? Lots of people end up changing their major, but that’s quite a stretch." I didn’t look up at him, but I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was taking notes. I tried to discreetly peek over his arm to see what he was writing, but couldn’t read his handwriting. I would love to know what he thought of me after all of this.

"I have no desire to be a doctor. My father is a doctor and my sister just completed her residency. In my family, if you have a brain that’s what you’re expected to do. My parents are paying for my college tuition so If I switched I would have to take care of everything myself. Plus, they don’t really leave much room for negotiation." His brows drew together as he shook his head at me. I turned away, deciding a subject change was in order. "Tell me about you."

"I grew up right here in the city. I’m 22 years old and decided I was going to return to school and make something of myself. I really don’t want to work in a bar my whole life. Art is something that I know and something that I’m good at, so here I am." He sat up straight and removed his jacket, revealing his tattoo-covered arms. I couldn’t make out all of them without an obvious stare, but it was a collage of various images. It was almost like he started with one and just kept going until he couldn’t fit anymore on his arm. Usually, I was turned off by them, but something about the coloring and pattern made me want to explore every inch of his arms with my eyes.

"Did you design your tattoos?" I asked. I wanted to reach out and touch his marked skin. But I didn’t.

"Yeah, I drew them out and a friend of mine did them in his shop. I have a dragon tattoo on my left arm and a guardian angel with my sister's name on the other. The other stuff just kind of happened out of boredom." I wanted to ask him why he had a guardian angel tattoo with his sister’s name on it, but I felt it wasn't any of my business. He must have noticed my hesitancy because he continued. "Jenna died when I was nine; she was five. Mom had picked her up from dance class and a truck ran a red light, hitting the rear passenger side directly where my sister sat." His eyes looked away from mine and he began to twirl his pencil on top of his notebook again. His face showed vulnerability and under his hard exterior, I saw something honest and sincere when he talked about his sister. I could only imagine the amount of pain losing a sibling would cause.

I placed my hand on his forearm. "I’m sorry,” I whispered. I meant it. My sister and I were very different, but I would be torn to shreds if I lost her.

"Enough about me, tell me a little more about yourself. How old are you?" There was a deep sadness in his voice, but it was obvious he was trying to push it down and hide it. All of a sudden having my hand on him felt really awkward so I quickly removed it.

"I turned 19 over winter break," I said as I picked up my pen and started doodling on my notebook. “What kind of art do you do, Dane?”

“I sculpt with metal. Sometimes I weld, sometimes I use fire to heat the metal and then hit it with a hammer to shape it. I can draw, but sculpting is the manly form of art because I get to use power tools,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at me. His rationale made me smile. Most guys I knew never got their manicured hands dirty and here was one who defined his manliness through his art by using power tools.

I glanced up from my paper. “I’ve never seen anyone do a metal sculpture before. I’d like to watch that sometime.”

“You can come to my place anytime,” he said, as he ran his tongue over his upper lip. I should be appalled by the underlying meaning of his words, but I couldn’t take my eyes off his lips long enough to let them bother me. The grin that formed on his face told me that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Do you like something you see?” he finally asked.

My mouth went dry. I wasn’t used to being around someone so forward. When I looked back down at my notebook, it was covered in little hearts. I blushed as I quickly turned it over before Dane could see my newest work of art. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his grin widen and I wondered if I was already too late.

"Class, I hope you have everything you need to start the second phase of your project. Please take the last few minutes to start thinking about what you would like to do on Wednesday,” Mr. Thomas said, interrupting our exchange. Relief washed over me; I couldn’t stand to look at those green eyes much longer. I could, but I didn’t want to. I needed some fresh air. I grabbed my things and placed them into my bag before getting up from my chair. As I turned to leave, I heard his voice behind me.

“You looked beautiful the other night. Hope I didn’t cause too much trouble with your boyfriend.” I didn’t turn around to acknowledge his comment, but I felt my face turning red for the hundredth time in the last couple hours. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I was happy that he remembered me.

I went to the student center to grab some lunch before heading to Anatomy. As always, Jade was sitting at a table in the corner of the room that was otherwise filled with boys. During the first week of school last semester, a group of freshman guys came over to flirt with us. I had a boyfriend and Jade didn’t date freshman. After we turned down their advances they never really went away and we’ve eaten with them every day since.

I spotted Jade as she waved me over to the table. "How was class?" she asked as soon as I sat down.

I sighed and gave her the short version of my morning class, including my run in with the Sexy Stranger from the club and our first project.

"Is he cute? I never really got to meet him because I was busy,” Jade said, looking at me with her big green eyes as if I was about to give her some big celebrity gossip scoop. She was a gossip addict; I could see her working for People or Us Magazine, taking pictures of famous celebrities. It would merge her two true loves.

"I guess he isn't bad. He has the most intense green colored eyes I’ve ever seen, but he really isn't the type of guy I find attractive. He has tattoos on his arms and wears a leather jacket. You would eat him up." He really was her type and I doubted that he wanted anything serious so I could see them working.

"You know, you should go after him. He might loosen you up some." She let out a laugh before continuing, "but if you really aren't into him, maybe you could get me his phone number?" She winked at me before getting up from the table. The thought of giving Jade his phone number didn’t make me happy. It was one thing to say it, but it was another to picture myself doing it.

I didn’t need a man to loosen me up. My focus was on the future and I would have lots of time after my career was established to worry about finding Mr. Perfect. If the right one fell into my lap before then I wouldn’t shy away from it, but I didn’t see that happening anytime soon.

Chapter Four

Wednesday morning came quickly. I pulled on a pair of old blue jeans and a long sleeved NYU t-shirt before tying my hair up in a loose knot at the top of my head. The project I was going to work on today could get messy and I wasn’t going to take any chances.

I remembered to grab my hat and mittens before I walked to the Art Center. Temperatures were only in the teens, but the cold air felt cleansing as it hit my face. Dane flashed through my mind on the way to class. He intrigued me because he came off as a typical cocky college guy, but I saw something more in him. He was different from other guys I knew and I was still trying to decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. I took a deep breath before I entered the Art Center in an attempt to get my nerves under control.

When I walked into the classroom I noticed that Dane was already there and my heart sped up like it did every time I was in his presence. He glanced up at me, smiling briefly before returning his attention back to his notebook. I had to take a deep breath to settle myself down before class began. Having to prepare a piece of art that I would share with everyone had me unhinged and having Dane as my inspiration just compounded my discomfort.

I spent the entire class painting what I learned about Dane Wright onto canvas using one of the easels at the center of the room. At least I wouldn't have to spend my time sitting next to Mr. Green Eyes.

Stealing a few glances at Dane while painting, I noticed that he hadn't done anything during class other than doodle in his notebook. At one point, I saw Mr. Thomas walk over and say something to him. Dane said something in response and Mr. Thomas nodded and walked away. I was starting to feel anxious that his part of the presentation was going to include a bunch of scribbles on notebook paper. Hopefully, I was more inspiring than that.

When I was satisfied with the work I’d done, I returned to my desk with a few minutes to spare before class was over. I wanted to look over my Anatomy notes because I heard that Dr. Draper had a habit of giving pop quizzes. My notebook hadn’t been open for more than two minutes when my stomach growled, reminding me that I’d skipped breakfast in order to get to class on time.