by Cassie Mae
“Hey.” I attempt a head nod toward my classmates as they walk in. Raina and Tristan sit down almost in unison. Tristan—who is right next to me—offers a nod back that probably looks a million times cooler than what I did.
“You gonna stay the whole class?” he asks. His tone is light-hearted and not mean, but still… my heart is a buzzing bee, and I let out this snort laugh that I end up choking on.
“Uh, y-yeah, yup. It’s all good here today.” I pat my stomach, jolting because I almost forgot my stomach was bare.
Almost.
Just kidding, it’s all I can think about.
“I like your pants,” Raina says, leaning around Tristan. Her hair is piled up on top of her head, a few curls bouncing around her face. “They look super comfortable.”
“They are.” They’re not. “Thanks.”
I try not to pull at my clothes any more than I already have. I’m obviously bringing way too much attention to them.
Besides, I’m only here to tackle another fear—the fear of the penis.
My diligence not to look at any canvases but my own has paid off, since I know a few painted genitalia surrounds me. I’m also not going to tackle looking at the actual thing when it—I mean he, Zach—walks in and strips down. But I will tackle being in the same room with it for an hour.
I take a calming breath, letting it sputter out in wisps. I’m with penises all the time—they are a part of life. Just because this one will be uncovered doesn’t make it any different.
Yeah… I’ll go with that.
Miss Barley sets that same cushioned fold out chair in the middle of the room, and we patiently wait for Zach to grace us with his heavenly body. Will he change his mind about me if he sees my new wardrobe? Or the fact that I’ll sit and paint throughout the entire class without announcing bowel movements?
I toy with the inside of my lip. My canker sore is healed up for now… until I put another hole in my mouth from my nervous habit. My phone sits heavy in my loose-fitting pants, and I dig into the deep pocket for it.
Pete’s at work tonight, but he’s not one to shy away from texting while on the clock—just one of the many things I’ve scolded him about. I glance around me, making sure Raina and Tristan are distracted by their conversation to notice I’m about to snap a selfie.
Pretending to take a picture of my painting, I click the camera quick, capturing my outfit as best I can.
Holy bologna, my hair is so frizzy! Instead of slicking it back into a perfect pony, I attempted the fun bun, but it looks like a bird built its home on my head. Instead of sending the pic to Pete for his opinion, I shove the phone into my pocket and take out the disaster of my hair.
Right as I’m ripping the elastic from the ratted strands, Zach pushes the classroom door open, bare-footed and blue-robed.
“Welcome, Zachary,” Miss Barley says, her usual greeting. I duck behind my canvas, but only so I can frantically run my fingers through my nest hair.
“Same place as last time?” he asks her, and there’s a flump that echoes around the room, his robe already on the floor.
“It’s penis time,” I whisper to myself.
“What?” Tristan asks.
“Nothing.”
Forget my hair. I need to loosen up anyway, so I’ll just leave it frizzy and hanging every which way. I’m an artist, darn it! And I will concentrate on my art.
I sit up straight, grateful I chose a canvas so large that I don’t see Zach from belly button down unless I make an extreme effort to look. My eyes burn a hole straight into his as I dip into my deep maroon and start on the tattoo that crawls from his neck and across his shoulder.
His lip twitches in the corner, like he’s either impressed or amused—or both—by my confidence. I mean, forget the fact that my feet are ready to bolt again. My toes curl, hidden in my red and blue Converse sneakers. I force my free hand on my knee and dig my nails into the fabric of my pants, keeping my legs from bouncing and bouncing and bouncing.
It’s okay, darn it. You can’t see anything, Candace. Just paint his chest for now.
My phone buzzes on my easel, and I praise the Lord for the wonderful distraction in a time of need. I casually—well, as casually as I can muster—drop my gaze from Zach and my painting and put my brush down.
It’s Pete. I tap on his face, and a message and picture pops on the screen.
Think a ten-year-old will like it?
It’s his tree set up in a cozy corner of what I’m assuming is his apartment. It’s either surprisingly clean or he’s really good at not showing me the mess around it. Guess he’s not at work.
Cute! Are you going to let her decorate it?
It is decorated… It’s purple.
I tilt my head, my brows furrowing. He really thinks he can get away with a bare tree?
There are no ornaments on it.
I gotta put ornaments on it?
My shoulders shake in silent laughter, and I shake my head.
Yes… and tinsel wouldn’t hurt. A star or an angel up top, too.
Ugh.
You got this.
Do it for me? You’re the artist.
That will require me to see your house.
That’s right. Never mind.
The bridge of my nose wrinkles, and my brows narrow. I won’t judge you.
You judge me already. ;)
Then you have nothing to worry about.
There’s a pause before he messages back, but it’s not long enough for me to get back to painting. The banter is calming all my buzzed up nerves.
Wait… are you texting in class right now?
I nibble on my lip. Maybe…
Killing that spider has changed you.
I laugh again, and Miss Barley coughs, giving me the stink eye about having my phone out. It’s not exactly a rule to have no phones, but she did say that art needs no distractions. I mouth a “sorry” and slip my phone into my pocket, proving to Pete that no… I haven’t really changed. But hey, I’m getting looser and looser by the minute.
Wait… that sounds bad.
Zach shifts, and my eyes drift in his direction. He meets my gaze over my canvas, a glint resting in his blue, blue irises. What an enigma, that boy. He tells me I’m not his type then he goes and stares at me all sexy-like? Tease.
I pick up my brush and get back to work on his tattoos. I’ll focus on his shoulder and neck during this class and hopefully by the time I get to his penis, Pete will have me trained to handle that sort of thing without declaring indigestion.
Forty-three minutes later, Miss Barley gives us the five minute warning so we can finish up and clean our areas. I sit straight on the stool, stretching the back muscles that hate me because of my habit of hunching.
“Love the color choices,” Tristan says, knocking my upper arm gently with his shoulder. Pride allows my lips to turn into a smile.
“Thanks.”
“Probably smart, too. Considering every time I want to use the black, someone’s got it.”
“I told you to borrow mine,” Raina lilts as she wipes the end of her brush on the bottom of her already paint-covered shirt. I haven’t gotten paint on my clothing in years, and never did I do it on purpose either.
Knowing I should probably compliment their work, too, I give their canvases a fast glance so I don’t accidentally linger on the phallic shapes. “Yours are both really good, too,” I say, capping my violet and maroon. “Both realistic, but very different in their own right.”
“Yeah, like how mine looks nothing like our model,” Tristan jokes, gesturing toward Zach with his brush. “How can one paint such perfection?”
“He’s not that good looking,” Raina whispers to the both of us, and my face must be giving away my shock because she starts laughing at our reactions.
“Two against one, girl.” Tristan throws his arm around my shoulders. Oh my heck, what do I do? Am I making friends? Is that what is happening here?
I make a noise that sort of soun
ds like a laugh, but I have no clue, and Tristan continues.
“That man is fine wine, and no one can convince me otherwise. Right Candace?”
“You know my name?”
His face twists like I’ve gone insane. “Duh, dummy. We’ve been paint neighbors for about four months.” He drops his arm from my shoulders, and I drop my gaze to my midriff. Is this the magic of my belly? I mean, I have friends… kind of. Pete’s my friend, and my coworkers tolerate me, and Amber would hang out with me more if she lived around here.
My belly cannot be the reason more people are talking to m—
“You made it,” Zach says, his face suddenly above my canvas, his smile delectable and beautiful and I hate that I still want to make out with it so hard even after his blunt rejection.
“I made what?” I say like an idiot. Tristan stifles a laugh behind his hand.
Zach steps around my canvas, and thank heavens he’s robed up. “I meant you made it through class.” He nods to my ‘paint neighbors.’ “We weren’t sure if we’d see you again.”
Excuse me, what now? I totally had thoughts of running, but I’ve got a strong backbone. I let out a hollow laugh, setting my brush down and pushing from the stool. “Someone thinks highly of himself,” I tease. “One little rejection isn’t going to scare me off.” Little does he know it did the complete opposite. Get ready, Zach. My bad-a-word self is coming. He’ll see.
His smile widens, and there’s that stupid glint in his eyes like he’s saying something to me and thinks I’m supposed to understand, but I have no clue what it means.
“Good to know.” His gaze travels up and down my body, and I want to tug and pull at my clothes again, cover it all up, but I stand still and take it, even with my heart pounding like a rogue hammer. “Like the look, Candace. It suits you.”
Point for Candace and zero for Pete! I knew an outfit would work. “Thanks.”
“See you next class.”
“And we’ll see all of you,” Tristan says when Zach’s out of earshot. A nervous laugh floats from my lips at his joke, and I let out a shaky breath.
That class actually went pretty darn well. I’m going to make all those fears on my list my b-word, just everyone wait and see.
Pete
“Ho. Lee. Shit. Holy shit.” Maddie gawks as we pull up to Candace’s family farm, and I wish I could say I keep it together, but my jaw’s sitting in my lap.
If I thought the house—and the guest house—was anything it’s got nothing on the barn, stables, and probably a hundred acres of property. Maddie’s tires crunch over the gravel, and she hits the brake a little too carelessly, and I fling against the seatbelt.
“Watch it.”
“Sorry.” She’s not sorry. “But do you see this?”
I snort. “I’d have to be blind.”
She ignores my smartass remark and lets her seatbelt zip across her shoulder. “How many horses did she say…?”
“She didn’t.” Or I don’t remember. I was more focused on the clothes she had in her arms. I can’t imagine Candace in anything with holes in it. Holey jeans were actually on her list of fears. Red zone, I think.
Maddie gets out of the twenty-year-old car she bought for fifteen hundred bucks last year, her feet slipping on the icy ground. Used to sliding everywhere with her board, her expression doesn’t change one bit.
A barn sits about half an acre away, the whinnying of horses carrying across the giant field. There’s a wooden fence that extends beyond where I can see, the training area empty for the moment. Five giant horses graze in the distance.
It’s not snowing today, but there is definitely a bite to the air as both Mad and I head toward the barn slack-jawed. I was this close to inviting Candace to my place, but that is a definite hell no now. She’d see the six-hundred square feet of the apartment and ask where the rest of it is—or how we can fit two bedrooms, a bathroom, and living space in there.
I yank on my jacket zipper and slide it up to my neck. My breath whooshes from my lips in a gust of fog, floating up to the partly sunny sky. Hopefully that sun actually starts heating things up soon, even though I don’t mind having a white Christmas.
A guy emerges from the large entryway that leads into the stables, pushing a large wheelbarrow. I poke Mad in the shoulder and nod in his direction. “Think we should ask him where Candace is?”
She answers me by changing her direction, practically bouncing her way over there. A laugh ripples through my chest and billows out in a puff in the cold air. Maybe I can pass this off as her Christmas gift. Mad’s obsessed with all things horses. Hell, if we could’ve afforded it, she would’ve taken up riding instead of boarding.
“Excuse me!” she calls out, and I jog to keep up with her. The guy either doesn’t hear her or he’s being a dick, since he doesn’t give us even a glance up. Maybe he’s got headphones in.
“Hey,” I try, knowing we’re well within earshot now. “We’re friends of Candace. Do you know where she’s at?”
Nothing. His back is toward us, and he pokes a giant pitchfork into a pack of hay and dumps it into a trough.
Mad and I stand there like a couple of sausages on a veggie tray, completely out of place and wondering where the hell to go. I raise my brow at her, and she raises hers at me, and we both shrug at the same time. We’re full of solutions.
“Um, hello?” I take a step toward him. He finally turns around, his eyes locking on us, widening under his bushy brows. His mouth pops open under a hefty beard, but from the looks of it, he can’t be much older than Madison.
“Sorry,” I say at his startled expression. “We’re looking for Candace.”
He blinks, his eyes dropping to my lips. He makes a gesture with his hand, tapping his chin and cheek.
“Uh…”
“Pete,” Maddie hisses, poking my side. “I think he’s deaf.”
“Oh!” Well, now I have no clue what to do. For a second I think of talking louder and slower, but that would just make me look like an idiot.
The guy grins and holds up a finger. He wipes a hand on his jeans before digging out his phone and tapping away. He steps toward us while he does this, bringing with him the soggy scent of animal and hay.
He turns his phone around, a message up on a notepad app. I’m Luke. You must be Candace’s friends?
Maddie and I lean in together to read the screen, and she lifts her head first and nods. She’s always been a faster reader.
Luke starts typing again, and I share a look with Maddie. The guy’s thumbs fly across his keypad, and I wonder how often he’s gotta communicate like this.
Wait… does Candace know sign—
“Hey guys!” Speak of the devil. Candace skips out from the stables in her usual clean and crisp attire, boots over her jeans, a button-down plaid tucked in at the waist. Her reddish hair hangs over her shoulder in a braid. Luke’s still typing to us, obviously having not heard her approach.
He spins the screen to us again, but I don’t get the chance to read more than two words before Candace taps his shoulder and he tucks the phone away.
She signs while she speaks, “Luke, meet Pete and… Madison, right?” she asks, looking at my sister.
“Maddie.” Her smile can’t be suppressed, stretching across her face. She most likely senses that the horse intros are next.
Luke signs something to Candace, and she interprets.
“He says it’s nice to meet you,” she says, mimicking the same gestures he used. An odd zap prickles in my gut, pulling the corners of my lips up. Gotta say, I’m impressed that I’ve known her for two years and she hasn’t waved this talent in my face. Hell, if I knew another language, I’d be using it as much as I could to impress whoever was interested.
“Nice to meet you,” Maddie says, her voice higher than normal. Her eyes jut over Luke’s shoulder to the entrance of the stables, her legs shifting their weight. Anticipation ripples off her in waves and nearly knocks me off my feet.
I let out a
laugh and grab her shoulders. She’s a foot shorter than me and has been since my fourteenth birthday. “Someone wants to meet the animals.”
She elbows my gut, and I pretend it hurts way more than it does, folding in half and taking a step away.
Candace lets out a laugh that sends that odd zap through me again. She turns to Luke and signs, talking out loud for us. “We’ll exercise the girls today. Have they been fed already?”
Luke signs something, and Candace nods, her fingers reaching up to play with the end of her braid. There’s not a stutter in her eye contact with him, no confusion pulling at her brow. She must know the language in and out… or she studied it a long time ago, or she studied so hard like she does with everything. The more I think about it, I’d believe it if she said she just learned yesterday.
Candace blows out a breath and faces us, dropping her braid to sign. “Hope you’re okay with some extra chores this morning.” Luke’s not even looking anymore, but she signs anyway. “The mares haven’t been fed or brushed or…”
“We get to brush them?” Maddie squeaks, and I jerk back and clean my ear out.
“Geez, Mad… take it down a notch.”
“Shut up. I’m allowed to be excited.”
Candace gives me a look, crossing her arms. “She is.”
“Already ganging up on me.”
She turns, and those jeans aren’t doing much for her backside, but I kinda like that they hang off her. And I’m checking out her ass and didn’t even realize it, so my eyes go straight to the sky and I trip over my own feet as we follow her to the stables.
The animal and hay scent grows as we step in, the temperature climbing about ten degrees already.
“This place heated?”
“Uh huh.” Candace reaches behind a stack of hay for a key hung up on the wall. “Have you guys ridden before?”
“Does the motorcycle count?” I joke, and I get a swift whack in the gut from my sister.
“No, we haven’t,” Maddie admits.
“That’s all right.” Candace leads us past a couple of empty stalls and pauses at the fourth down. “We just need to walk them, so you don’t have to ride if you aren’t comfortable.”
