This fucker. Calling her by her nickname. Calling her beautiful. I wasn’t dumb enough to think he meant the painting.
“It sure is.” I stood up and walked behind Ashtyn. I put my arms around her waist and pulled her into me. She froze as I kissed the top of her head. “Great job, princess.”
If Ashtyn was crazy, I was certifiable. There was something wrong with my head when this prick was around. He wanted Ashtyn so badly it made my jealous, possessive side shine bright. Not like I had any right to be possessive of Ashtyn.
It made me do things I shouldn’t.
Cade looked on with a grin on his face. The fucker knew I was beyond saving at this point.
Reynolds stiffened next to us and gritted his teeth. “I want to discuss a few things with you after class, Ashtyn. It’ll only take a minute.”
“Okay?”
“It’s nothing bad,” Reynolds laughed without humor. “Just want to chat with you about an art exhibit feature at the gallery in town–Inspirar. They’re going to feature high school students next month. I want you to submit something.”
“That’d be amazing! Thanks Mr. Reynolds,” she beamed, still enclosed in my arms.
“Please, call me Daniel. I’ll see you after class.” He smirked at me before going back to his desk.
Once I was sure he was gone, I released her and went back to my stool, pretending to work on the atrociousbirdon the canvas.
“Can you please stop embarrassing me in front of him?” A blush crept up Ashtyn’s neck as she spat the words.
“As long as that fucker keeps flirting with you, I’ll be doing whatever I can to piss him off. Maybe he should find someone his age?” I pondered.
She sighed. “He’s notflirtingwith me.”
“He is flirting with you. He can barely contain his boner when you’re around,” Cade said without looking up from his painting.
Ashtyn glared at him. “You guys are ridiculous. Just because someone is nice, doesn’t mean they wanna fuck. Or whatever.”
“Sure it does,” he laughed and Ashtyn rolled her eyes.
“Maybe it does foryou two. But not for all guys.”
That’s what it meant for most guys, and that’s sure as hell what it meant for Reynolds. He looked at Ashtyn like he wanted her to be his next meal. The guy was the worst kind of predator. He pretended like he was innocent, helpless, a meek little kitten. In reality, he was a lion ready to pounce. I wouldn’t stand idly by as he set his sights on Ashtyn.
“Do y’all need help with anything?” Ashtyn asked our table.
The two freshmen who sat opposite me and Cade looked like they were about to say yes. I eyed them and they looked back down at their paintings. “We’re all set,” one of them mumbled.
“I could use some help,” I said.
Ashtyn looked at me and tilted her head. “I know you need help, Moretti. I meant with the painting.”
I smirked as she stood next to me, her hip brushing my arm.
“Interesting,” she said quietly.
“It’s a mess.”
“I think if you added a little white here.” She grabbed a clean paintbrush, dipping it in black and white paint. “And here, just kind of blend it near the edges. It gives some dimension.”
Her chest brushed against me as she leaned over to correct my painting. I was supposed to be keeping my distance–aside from when I needed to teach Reynolds a lesson–and she wasn't making it easy on me. I wanted to mark her smooth skin, reminding every other motherfucker that I was there first.
“It’s called a highlight, Moretti. You should pay more attention in class,” Cade added. I couldn’t focus on the pretentious prick at the front of the classroom. It was impossible.
“Cade’s right, you should pay attention,” smiled Ashtyn. She continued to addhighlightsto the black feathers of the bird. It started looking better. She blended the white with gray and black to make it look natural. It resembled what I envisioned in my head–more like a bird and less like a black blob with a beak.