One look at Romy tells me she prett

One look at Romy tells me she pretty much hates me. I spend the whole class hoping she’ll look at me. She doesn’t. Not even once. When the class is over, she packs up and leaves without a backward glance.
I should be relieved. Instead, I feel gutted. I’ve spent the last two days trying to puzzle out what I wanted to say to her, and I’d finally decided on: Can we have coffee sometime? I want to know you.
That was as far as I got, but I figured we’d go from there. I let my dick get way out in front of me on Sunday, but I was hoping I could rewind, because Romy is the first person I’ve met in a long time who actually seemed to care about … me, I guess. For a minute there, at least. If I’d sat down and talked to her instead of kissing and groping her, maybe we’d be on our way to being friends. Maybe even something more.
Another regret to add to the mountainous pile.
I retreat to my studio as soon as class is over. Daisy is painting a new landscape, a beautiful rendering of the lake at sunset. Lyle is doing a portrait of some type. Sasha is at her potter’s wheel, and I have to stop for a second and watch her hands, the loving way she slides them over the wet clay as it spins. It’s hypnotic. She glances up at me and smiles. “I’ll teach you sometime. You could join me here in three-D land.”
“Maybe. I think I need to stick to my two-D world for now.” I wave and head back to my studio. I spent half of yesterday cleaning it up after the mess I made in here on Sunday. My two ruined paintings sit in the corner, faces to the wall. I can’t look at them now. But I’m glad Romy stopped me from destroying more of them. I wanted to thank her for that, but I’m thinking I won’t have the chance.
“Hey, I headed off the cougars downstairs,” says Daniel, appearing in the entrance to my studio.
“Thanks,” I mutter, staring at the smear of paint on the floor, the place where Romy stepped on my tube of titanium white. I scuff at it with my toe. “I’m not in the mood to deal with them tonight.”
“Word is getting out that you gave Claudia a private show.”
I raise my head. “She’s telling people?”
His brow furrows. “Of course she is. She claimed you first. Bragging rights.”
I curse and sink to my haunches, a horrible thought suddenly occurring to me. What if Romy heard the rumors? What if she figured it out? “Why can’t it just be about painting?” I say stupidly.
To his credit, Daniel doesn’t laugh. He joins me on the floor and sits with his arms loosely around his knees. “Because we’re gorgeous young studs who can go all night without tiring?” When I don’t even crack a smile, he throws a broken paintbrush at me and it bounces off my shoulder. “Hey, it won’t always be like this, and they will buy some of your paintings. After a few times with Claudia, she bought three off me, remember?”
I nod, but this whole thing is so pathetic. “How do you do it without feeling dirty?”
He snorts. “You’ve always been a sensitive soul, bro. I’m not. They have nice bodies and they smell good and when it’s over, they leave me alone and I’ve got money in my pocket. Nothin’ dirty about that. And if there were, I’d buy some soap and move on.”
“You make it sound so easy.” I stand up and start to add paint to my palette. I have a long night ahead of me.
While I work, Daniel fiddles with the edge of my dropcloth and pulls out my sketchpad. A moment later, he chuckles. “Now, your moody misgivings about getting with Claudia wouldn’t have anything to do with this, would they?” He flips over the pad and holds it up.
Staring back at me is Romy. The sketch I did last week. Her somber green eyes are the only patch of color in the charcoal rendering. The slope of her neck … I remember how it felt between my teeth.
“‘She’s got a story,’” he recites, mimicking my words to him. “‘Leave her alone.’”
“I tried,” I mutter.
“I notice your use of past tense.” He gets to his feet and speaks in a low voice. “Did something happen?”
“You haven’t talked to Markus, have you?”
“He told me you had a female in here on Sunday, but I figured that was Claudia.”
I stare down at the sketch and shake my head. “It happened really fast.” I close the sketchpad and set it on the table. “Do me a favor and don’t spread it around, okay? She doesn’t need that kind of crap.”
Actually, I don’t know what she does or doesn’t need. We never got that far. I grit my teeth and pick up my palette knife.
“It’s in the vault, man. Are you okay with it, though?”
Whether I am or not, I can’t talk about it now. “Fine. It was nothing.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then says, “Whatever you say. She likes you, though. Have you really tried to talk to her?”
“I would have tried tonight, but she bolted.” The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced she overheard Claudia. Fuck.
“She’s missing out, if she gives up that easy.” Daniel brushes his hair back from his face. He looks like such a surfer, like he spends his days on the beach or something, but he’s a hard worker and a fantastic artist.