by Mae Doyle
He leans back in his chair and looks at me. “Damn, Abigail. Something happen to your face in the bathroom?”
I don’t know how he just noticed since I’m already starting to bruise, but I just roll my eyes. There’s not any way that I was going to let him know just how badly it really hurt. “Call it a welcome gift from Alice.”
He lets out a low whistle, but before he can say anything else, the teacher walks in. This is what I was excited about, and I sat up straighter in my chair. Mr. Stanfield is the very reason that I want to be at Trinity Prep. Everyone else could go to hell, as far as I’m concerned, as long as I get to learn from him.
Not only is he brilliant and a world-renowned painter, but he’d accomplished everything before he even turned 50. He is intelligent, driven, powerful, and not bad to look at. When he turns around to greet us, I feel my stomach flip.
I’ve made it. I’ve really made it, and being in a class taught by him is the proof.
There is one internship that I want, and I’m going to do anything that I have to in order to get it.
“Good afternoon, artists. You all look well fed and rested and ready to make some art.” He claps his hands together and rubs them for a moment before continuing. “Now, if I read my email correctly, we have a new student, right? Abigail?”
My hand shoots up. “It’s Abby, sir. Hello. And thanks for running this class.” Normally I’d be embarrassed by how stupid I sounded, but right now, I don’t care. I’m just too happy to be here to give a shit what everyone else thought about me.
Mr. Stanfield nods at me. “Welcome, Abby. We’re glad to have you here. I’m assuming that you know about the internship that students can try to win from this class, right?” When I nodded, he continued, turning his attention to the rest of the class. “One student from this room will have the opportunity to intern with me. I get to handpick who I want. The rest of you can scrounge for other internships or go on for higher education, but believe me, if you want to be anybody, you want to work with me.”
I want to be someone. My smile was is big that I can practically feel my face cracking.
“Don’t get too excited, Abigail. There’s no way that you’re winning that internship.” Quinn’s voice is quiet, but was speaking loud enough that I could easily hear him.
I turn to look at him so quickly that I get a little dizzy. “What did you just say?” I hiss back. Mr. Stanfield is still talking, but Quinn and I need to get this worked out before we have a major misunderstanding. “Of course I am. Why else would I want to come to your school?”
He rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair. I can’t help but notice the way his shirt pulls up and shows off his perfectly tanned and sculpted abs. Quinn obviously spends time in the gym, not just down here working on his art, and it shows.
He looks like he could pose for a sculpture.
I blush, and tear my eyes away from his stomach. He’s watching me with a small smile curling up the corner of his mouth. “I thought that it was for the eye candy. That seemed obvious, since you can’t get your eyes off of me. But the internship is mine. Everyone knows it, so you better learn that, too.”
“Not a chance.” My voice is louder than I mean it to be and a few students around us turn to look at what we’re talking about. “I’m here for that internship. It’s what I’ve been working for since I started high school.”
“Precious. It’s what I’ve been working for since I was old enough to pick up a paintbrush. You have a real cute innocent thing going on, Abigail, but there’s no way in hell that you’re going to get that internship instead of me. You might as well give up now, okay?”
“Go to hell.”
Quinn’s eyes widen and I turn back to look at Mr. Stanfield. I knew that there would be competition for the internship when I came here, but I honestly didn’t think that it would be a problem. Now, though, I’m beginning to doubt whether or not I’m good enough to stand up to the rest of the kids here.
No, I haven’t even seen their work. I’m not going to let myself spiral like that with my thinking when I don’t even know what everyone else is capable of doing.
Nodding to myself, I focus again on Mr. Stanfield. He’s wrapping up his talk, and when he finishes and claps his hands, everyone pulls a book out of their backpack. Feeling a choking panic, I look up, but Mr. Stanfield waves me to the front.
“I have a copy of our book here for you, Abby.” He hands me a thick tome and I slip it under one arm without giving it much of a glance. It’s a book on theory and design, I know that without even looking at it. “I’m glad you’re here. Your former art teacher spoke really highly of you, so it will be interesting to have a fresh perspective in class. Now, she tells me that you don’t have any formal art training, is that right?”
The feeling of inadequacy that’s been simmering below the surface since I got to Trinity Prep is threatening to burst out of me, so I just nod my head quickly, like that will stop him from being able to tell that I’m an imposter.
“Well, I know that you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t skilled and driven. It’s a cutthroat group, though, and you need to be aware of that. No matter how many hours you put in, someone will be working for longer. No matter how many times you practice something before working on your piece, someone will have practiced more.” He pauses, and I can’t tell if he’s gathering his thoughts or if he feels bad for what he’s telling me.
When he continues, though, the compassion in his eyes is gone. It’s been replaced by fire and desire. “You do your best, Abby, and we’ll see what happens. There’s just one internship from me, but there are others out there, okay?”
“Thank you, sir.” My voice is quiet, but inside I’m boiling. I don’t like being underestimated, and I certainly don’t like the idea of the internship I want so badly being within my reach but yanked away from me at the last second. I know that what I’m about to ask is probably foolish, but I can’t help myself. “Is there any one student in here that I need to watch? I don’t have the advantage of knowing who my real competition is like the rest of the students do.”
Mr. Stanfield sucks in a breath and looks at me like he’s considering answering my question or leaving me out to dry on my own. Instead of telling me who to watch out for, he turns to the class. “Abby here wants to know who her biggest competition is for my internship. What do you all say?”
Shit. I did not want him to put me on the spot like that. When I turn around I see that everyone looking at me looks hostile. Nobody is happy about what he just said.
At first, nobody moves or speaks, but then Quinn stands up. He pushes back his chair slowly so that the feet drag and squeak on the floor. His gorgeous hands rest easily on the top of our shared desk, and he locks his eyes on me.
“You want to know who your competition is, Abby?” Mr. Stanfield’s voice is low and he almost sounds like he’s in awe. “There he is. Quinn Masters.”
Fuck.
“It’s even in the name.” Quinn doesn’t smile. His bright eyes suddenly look darker than they did before, and I shiver under his gaze. I don’t know anything about Quinn as an artist. I have no idea if he’s any good or if I can easily swoop in here and take the internship from him, but the way he’s looking at me tells me that this is going to be much more difficult than I first thought.
I don’t even realize that I’m still standing at the front of the room until Mr. Stanfield lightly touches me on the shoulder. “Ready to go sit, Abby? We have a lot of ground to cover and I know that the rest of the class would love to continue working on their paintings.
Continue working? I turn to him. “They’ve already started their competition piece?” We have one chance to impress him with our work, and if the rest of the class has already started their paintings then I’m more behind than I thought.
He nods. “Of course they have. You’re the only one who’s transferred in halfway through the year, and you can’t expect people to just wait on you, can you? You can get sta
rted this week, if you think that you’re ready. But, for now, you need to go sit so we can all learn, okay?”
***
“And that’s it.” I wave my fork at Madeline. “I honestly don’t remember anything else. I’m pretty sure that I just…blacked out. I had no idea that the other students would be so damn cutthroat here, but I’m screwed, Madeline, I really am.”
We’re sitting in the corner of the cafeteria enjoying our zoodles and fresh marinara sauce, but the more I think about class with Quinn and Mr. Stanfield, the harder it gets for me to chew. I can practically feel my throat closing up, and I swallow hard, trying not to cry.
I promised myself that I wouldn’t cry about the internship. It’s just…it’s my dream.
“Quinn’s really good. He’s got years of experience and has a lot of people in the background pulling strings for him. That’s something that you can’t compete against, trust me.” I can tell that Madeline is trying to be careful with her words. She twirls some zoodles around her fork and then frowns like she’s thinking. “I don’t want you to be really down on yourself, Abby, but unless you can pull something great out of your ass…Mr. Stanfield loves him, so. Yeah.”
“I noticed.” It would have been impossible not to notice that the teacher practically fawned over everything that Quinn said and did in class. I guess that that’s one thing that I didn’t completely block out from the afternoon.
Before she can say anything else, I notice that he’s walking across the cafeteria towards us. Unlike lunch, when he brought his food and sat with us, he doesn’t have anything in his hands. Instead, he’s flanked on both sides by two of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen. They could easily walk the catwalk, but next to Quinn, they seemed to pale in comparison.
The only problem is that none of the three of them look happy about walking over to see me. The one on his right is tall and slim, with a buzzcut that shows off his dark brown eyes. He has a light layer of dust from sculpting on his shirt, so I’m sure that Madeline will know exactly who he is. The other is shorter but dressed to kill. His suit looks custom-made for him, and I realize with a start that it probably was – by him.
Talent is everywhere at Trinity Prep, and I’m just hoping that I have enough to stay here.
Quinn stops right in front of our table, tapping his fingers in front of my plate before he speaks. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you after class, Abigail, but you need to know that I have the internship with Mr. Stanfield already locked down. He’s a family friend and I’ve been working with him for years, so we have a connection.”
He’s not smiling at all, and I suddenly realize that this is not, in any way, a laughing matter to him.
Taking a deep breath and ignoring the way the other two guys are staring at me, I stand up. Quinn easily towers over me and is wrapped in pure muscle, but there’s a table between us, so I feel a bit braver than I actually am. “Tough shit, Quinn. I’m just as good as you are, and the internship is mine, so you better get used to second best.”
Honestly? I have no idea if I’m anywhere near as good as he is, and I’m probably not, but I’m not going to let that get to me right now. He’s used to having everything handed to him all his life, and that’s got to stop.
“You think that you’re just as good as I am?” He raises a perfect eyebrow and chuckles. “How about this, then, little Abigail? You want to have a contest with me? Raise the stakes a little?”
“The internship is what’s at stake. Don’t you think that that’s enough?” I do my best to sound tough, but part of me really wants to know what he’s thinking. If he weren’t so damn hot then I think that I could better handle myself, but…holy cow.
He shakes his head and then runs one hand casually through his hair. I can’t help but watch the way the muscles in his arm twist with every movement. “I have a feeling that you’re a virgin, aren’t you, Abigail?”
When I don’t answer, he laughs and continues. “So, how about this? We both work on a small piece this week. If yours is the best, then I’ll back off and give you a fighting chance at the internship. But it won’t be, so don’t get excited. When everyone decides that mine is the best then you owe me your virginity. I get to take it anytime, anyplace, whenever I want it.”
What the hell?
This is not what I signed up for when I came to Trinity Prep. No way did I think that I would be gambling away my virginity on the first day of school.
When I don’t answer right away, the impeccably dressed guy at Quinn’s side scoffs. “I told you that she was too much of a pussy, man. You’ll never get to sink your dick in her that way.”
Madeline reaches up and touches my wrist, but I ignore her. I didn’t come here only to have my head smashed into the wall in the bathroom and then be made fun of. “Deal. But on one condition.” Quinn grins at me, waiting for me to speak. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest that I’m pretty sure everyone in the cafeteria can hear it, but I just keep my eyes focused on him. “We get impartial judges. I know that you have your little cronies here lapping up whatever you say, but they don’t count. Mr. Stanfield can’t judge, either.”
“Impartial judges? And just where do you think that we’re going to find those at a school where Quinn is the king?” This is the taller art student. He leans forward a bit when speaking, but I only catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. I just can’t pull my gaze from Quinn.
He’s obviously considering what I’ve said. His perfect face looks calm, but his eyes are stormy, and I know that he’s not sure what to say. Before I can gloat about this, though, he speaks. “Good thinking. I wouldn’t want someone to give you any help because they feel bad for you, Abigail. It sucks to be new, but it must suck more to be a pathetic little virgin.”
He reaches out his hand before I have a chance to really think about what he’s said. I hear Madeline suck in a breath, but I grab his hand and shake it. It’s the first time that we’ve touched since lunch, and there’s a spark of electricity that passes between us.
I don’t know if he feels it, but it feels like something magnetic holding us together. I squeeze his hand, but his muscles are so strong that there’s no way I could ever make him uncomfortable.
“I can’t wait to show you that you’re not the best painter at Trinity Prep.” We’re still holding hands, and I release his, but he squeezes me tighter, not letting me pull back.
His eyes are locked onto mine, and for a moment, everything around us falls away. Even though we’re in the middle of a loud and busy cafeteria, all that I can hear and see is him. He’s perfect, with a pouty mouth that I want to kiss and cheekbones that I want to carve from stone.
This man can not be my muse, but I feel it happening already.
“I can’t wait to show you what happens to little girls who think that they’re better than everyone else. My friend called me the king, Abigail, but there’s something that you need to understand. I’m no king. Kings are fair and impartial. They look out for their people and do everything they can to help them.”
He pauses and I shiver involuntarily. I suddenly want to pull my hand back more than anything, but he tightens his grip, holding me in place.
“I’m a god,” he continues. “I’m the fucking god of Trinity Prep, Abigail, and you’ve pissed me off. I’m not the kind of god to sacrifice his son. I’m looking for people to sacrifice for me, so you better be ready to throw your body on the fucking altar.”
Chapter Five
Of course, I can’t get away from Quinn. No matter how much I try to avoid him, we have multiple classes together, and I have to see him all afternoon while we work on our paintings. We’re even still sitting next to each other in class because Mr. Stanfield thought that it would be a good idea for him to help guide me since I’m new.
Even though I do my best not to talk to him, I can’t help but shake the way he looked into my eyes and the way my skin felt when he held my hand on Monday. Since then, I’ve spent all of my free time w
orking on my painting, but I have a feeling that it’s not going to be up to par.
In the art room, we each have our own areas for working. There are partitions that can be moved as well as cloth curtains that can easily be opened or closed to give us as much privacy as we want, but I still feel exposed working.
That’s because everyone at Trinity Prep has heard about our bet and they keep leaning in to see what I’m doing. It’s after the fifth person has popped in their head to check on me that I can’t handle it any longer.
I rip off my smock and throw my brushes on the table, splashing turpentine in the process, but I don’t care. Sighing heavily, I leave my space, pulling my curtain shut tightly behind me before stalking up to the front of the room.
“Listen up!” I have to yell to make sure that everyone can hear me since they’re all working in different areas of the room. Mr. Stanfield is at his desk, but he leans back in his chair, an amused look on his face. “I’m tired of you guys coming in to see my work! You’ll all get to see in tomorrow afternoon, okay?”
Quinn slowly makes his way up from the back of the room where he has the largest workspace in the corner. I’ve been doing my best not to interact directly with him, but he has his eyes locked on me as he slowly winds his way between students up to the front.
“You don’t want to give them a little taste of what you have going on? I know that I’d love one.” He licks his lower lip and winks at me, and I immediately know what he’s talking about. I’ve never had someone after my virginity like this before, and I’m not sure that I like it.
“The bet was that we have until tomorrow.” I know that he’d love to get a peek behind my curtain, but I really don’t want him to see what I’m working on. No matter how confident I can pretend to be, I have a very strong feeling that his work is going to be better than mine. I shouldn’t be even the least bit excited about what that will mean for me, but part of me can’t help it.
