Picture Perfect (4 page)

Thankfully, there was another door at the back of the room, which led to another classroom, which led to another hallway, which led outside.

I stepped out into the cool air and plopped myself on the huge stone stairs leading up to one side of the building, glad the length of the building was between me and the classroom I’d just escaped.

It was just cold enough that my breath made a ghost of a cloud in the blackening night air. I checked my watch. About fifteen minutes till the bus back to Temple arrived, and it couldn’t come fast enough.

Yeah, this was never going to happen again.

Were there a few moments posing naked in that class when I felt powerful and beautiful? Maybe.

Was sitting bare-assed in front of a classroom of people with my fat rolls tumbling out all over the model table and having my body critiqued in charcoal form worth it?

No. Absolutely freaking not.

I whipped out my phone and texted Joey.
You around?

In the library. Midterms are a bitch. Back super late.

You around?

Still at Drexel.

How was it?

Worst.Thing.Ever.

What do you mean?

I just....I have no business modeling anymore. It’s just not something a body like this can do. You know?
The tears started tumbling down my cheeks again, blurring my view of the screen.

Oh, babe. Sit tight. I’ll get home ASAP and we’ll talk.

Love you.

Love you back.

I hated everything about this—mostly that a big part of me really wanted to feel better after doing this modeling gig. But it was just all wrong. Someone who was a model was supposed to get oohs and ahs from the people looking at her. She was supposed to make people happy. I was sure that someone with a nice body would have been eagerly sketched with smiles, thanked by the professor, and maybe even applauded afterward. I’m sure that’s what Doctor Albright had thought would happen.

But she’d never seen me naked.

I was never going to let anyone see me naked again.

My breath came in big gasps and I rubbed the sleeve of my scratchy coat against my dripping nose and nonstop tears. Great. I was going to make my face all red now, too.

I checked my phone again. How had only five minutes passed?

Someone banged out of the door behind me and started down the steps. I froze like a deer in the headlights. If there was anything I didn’t want right now, it was company.

I tried to stare straight ahead, but as the person came further down the stairs, the footsteps got closer to me.

Then he sat down beside me, his tall, solid frame buffering me against the light wind, and the silhouette of his messy hair and solid jaw making my heart flutter. And then drop into my stomach, and make me nauseous.

I seriously thought for just a second about going full-tilt and shoving my head between my knees until he went away. As soon as I turned my head to the side, though, that flighty plan was shot to hell, because his face was actually the most captivating I had ever seen. Nate. Again.

My mouth dropped open, and no sound came out. I tried again, my eyes still locked on his, and this time a muted half-stutter made its way from my throat.

This time, I really did give up. I crossed my arms across my knees and leaned my head there. “Oh my God,” I moaned.

I waited for him to say something embarrassing, or worse yet, nothing at all. But instead, a big hearty laugh rang through the air. I looked up, my chin still resting on my arms, and managed a half-smile. “Yeah, I know. It was my first time. Hilarious.”

“No, no. I mean, yeah. Sometimes the models freak out their first time. But you did a great job.”

I scoffed. “Okay.”

“No, seriously. And, um. I swear I never say this, okay? And I’ve already seen you naked, so it’s not like I have that much to gain. But...”

“What?”

“Well, you were beautiful. I mean, you
are
beautiful. But you were really gorgeous with your clothes off. I mean, you’re gorgeous now. I mean...oh God.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “Now you’re just trying to make me feel better.” The idea that someone would even have to try to make me feel better just made me feel pitiful. Tears brimmed at my eyes again.

“Hey, seriously. What’s with the crying?” Nate’s perfect lips twisted into a frown.

“I heard what you said to the professor. You asked her what the hell you were supposed to do about something. About my fat ass, I assume.” The lump in my throat was so huge I couldn’t say anything else.

His eyebrows furrowed over those dark eyes again, just like I’d seen them do when I freaked out and left. God, even when it was confused that face was adorable. Then, a second later, his face relaxed his eyes widened, and he smiled. “Cat. Seriously.” He reached around and shuffled through his bag, yanking out the pad of paper he’d been working with. He pointed to the front. “See this? This is cheap paper. Professor Astor told me not to get the cheap paper, but I only had a certain budget for this class, and I wanted the really nice charcoals. Nicer charcoals get easier, richer shading, which makes sketches of beautiful women even more beautiful.”

I closed my eyes and shook my head slightly. This guy sure knew how to talk.

“But see, the cheap paper...” He flipped to a sketch of me, sitting straight up with one leg tented in the air, my waves cascading down my back. “When you use an eraser, it basically destroys the paper. So I have this decent sketch drawn with beautiful charcoals that barely does the model justice, and now there’s a goddamn hole in it.”

I leaned closer. There was, right over the spot where he was trying to draw the scar on my leg.

“Ah. You were trying to get my battle wound.”

“Yeah, and I fucked it up.”

I smiled.

“Oh, God. Sorry. Language.”

I laughed. “Please. I swear like a fucking sailor. When I’m with friends.”

He smiled, and at that moment, his stomach growled.

“You hungry?” I asked, laughing.

“Yeah. I was gonna go out tonight, but I don’t know.”

“With who? Hannah?”

Realization dawned on his face. “Oh yeah. Yes. That’s where I know you from. You’re the one that….oh. Shit.”

“That Hannah’s boyfriend was sleeping with apparently the whole time they were going out? And dumped me when he saw me for the first time in a year?”

“Yeah. But…I talked to him. On Hannah’s behalf, and on yours too, even though I didn’t know your name.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “Talked to him?”

He laughed. “I mean, I grabbed his shirt, and maybe growled a little bit. But nothing more. I swear.”

A thrill ran through me at the thought of Nate standing up for us like that.

“But, anyway. Hannah took me to that party as a pity thing, unfortunately. I transferred here this year, and she’s a friend of my sister’s best friend and… yeah. We definitely don’t run with the same crowd. No, I was thinking about going out by myself tonight. Exploring the city a little.”

I let myself smile a teasing smile. “So not only do you not have any friends, you also don’t want to make any friends?”

He nudged my shoulder with his and grinned. “Shut up. It’s kind of weird. I’m on a mission to eat at every burger joint in town. It’s kind of…I don’t know. It’s my thing.”

He raised those sparkling eyes to mine again and then, for just a fraction of a second, they flicked down to my mouth, then back up to my eyes again. A warmth flooded me, and brought a confidence I hadn’t felt in weeks right along with it. “I love burgers.”

“Yeah?” He sat up straight. “Got a place for me?”

“You haven’t had a Philly burger until you’ve had Johnny Brenda’s.”

“Well, before I let you show me around town we should probably do a formal introduction. I’m Nate. Junior in architecture here at Drexel.”

“Cat. Fashion design at Temple.” I smiled shyly. Introducing myself to a guy after he’d seen me naked was one of those things I’d never even imagined doing.

He nodded appreciatively, then stood up and reached down, and tipped his head toward the main street. “C’mon, we’ll get a cab. The burgers can’t wait.”

“
I
can’t believe this place wasn’t even on my burger list. I would have never found it if it wasn’t for you.”

“It’s listed everywhere as a music venue. Which it is, obviously, but the burgers could just as easily have put it on the map.” Most of Johnny Brenda’s was taken up by a stage and dance floor, but dining tables ringed the open middle space.

“You know, I didn’t believe you when you said these burgers were worth coming all the way to Fishtown for,” Nate said. “Especially when I saw that trashy sign out there.”

“Trashy?” I said, swallowing one more sweet potato fry. “It’s vintage!”

“Sometimes I think this whole city is vintage.”

“True. Because vintage is something that’s amazing because it’s old. Like, the brick front of this building? You would never guess that all this was inside.” The stage was basic, and the dance floor was gleaming reclaimed hardwood. The second floor was basically a wide path of floor circling a huge empty space in the middle—a full-circle balcony where you could sit, eat, and watch the concerts. I’d always loved the mixed energy of the space, not to mention its ever-changing menu of local food—always with a great burger—and an eclectic mix of concerts.

From the flash of the shiny brass instruments the band was setting up and sound-checking on stage, I guessed tonight’s music was a slow jazz trio. Fitting for a Tuesday night.

My friends had always hated to come down here—too old, they thought, and the music was usually weird. Maybe it was the design major in me, but I liked the way so many disparate things came together to create one of Philadelphia’s best-kept secrets.

“I’m just saying. Back in California, a building would only look like this if it was carefully engineered and retrofitted.”

“Mmm,” I said, taking a long drink of the beer Nate had talked me into, along with the burger. “You never told me where you transferred from. You’re from California?”

“Sort of. It was the last attempt at living near my dad. Spent summers with him every year since I was twelve.”

“Divorce?”

He nodded.

“Me too,” I said. “Dad’s in California, Mom’s in Ohio. But they split up when I was five.”

“Ah, so you’re a California girl!”

“Sort of,” I said, smiling off in the distance. Now California made me think of ambulances and leg surgery.

“Anyway,” he said, “I thought maybe if I picked a college near him, we could hang out as adults. Long story short, couldn’t stand him then, can’t stand him now.” Nate tipped back the last of his beer. “Probably because I never actually spent any of my childhood summers with him. I’d get to his house and two days later I’d be shipped back off to Camp Eagle. Our most intense quality time together was writing my name in the back of my tighty-whities. ”

“Yeah. The whole camp was some pretentious full-time summer babysitting service.” He cleared his throat and sat up, assuming a deep radio-announcer voice. “Located in California’s famed Tahoe National Forest, nestled on…”

“…the peaceful headwaters of the North Yuba river,” I finished. “Yeah. That was my summer camp too.”

He leaned forward, peering into my eyes. Then he sat back so quickly, his eyes flaring wide, that I thought he’d fall off the stool. “Cat. Catherine?
Katie
?”

“Um. I guess? Yes?”

“You’re Katie. Katie Mitchell. Towered over all the boys at camp since fourth grade.”

I nodded again, my mouth dropping open.

“And kissed Nathaniel West behind the shed when you played Seven Minutes In Heaven in sixth grade.”

I cocked my head and looked at him through narrowed eyes. That hair, and those cheekbones, except much thinner and way more muscled….Holy shit.

Nate. Nathaniel. Nathaniel West. The fat kid who was six inches shorter than me and had to use an inhaler every time he crossed the soccer field. Nathaniel West, who I’d French-kissed on a dare behind the shed in sixth grade. Who was sitting in front of me right now, a gleeful grin on his face, and totally smoking hot.

Thank God all this ran through my head in about two seconds. I recovered my wits, closed my mouth, and said, “Nathaniel! From Camp Eagle!”

He stepped off the bar stool, still looking at me with those intense eyes, and stretched his arms out for a hug. And then, I stepped into his arms and was completely lost. Hell if his chest wasn’t all solid, curving muscle, and his arms wrapped me in a cage of the same. And the way he smelled—not like beer and a second-day shirt, but the way a guy should smell—like aftershave and gum in his jacket pocket and a little beer on his breath. Which had never seemed sexy to me until right this minute.

A minute which, I couldn’t help but notice, went on a little longer than a hug between old camp friends usually lasted. A hug that ended in his fingers giving me a little extra squeeze at my waist.

I looked up at him—why did I pull my head away from his chest, was I a moron?—and he stepped back, still looking steadily into my eyes. “Katie Mitchell,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I had to come all the way across the country to see hot Katie from camp.”

Hot Katie? “Well, it’s Cat now, anyway. And now you’re the hot one.” My hand flew up over my mouth. Had I honestly just said that?

Nate looked down at his shoes and I could swear I saw some pink color his cheeks in the dim light. My Lord, that jaw was irresistible. And that dimple—sweet Jesus, he had a dimple. How many things had I not noticed in sixth grade?”

“Yeah, I guess I just lost a lot of baby fat. And, uh…yeah. Worked out a lot in college. It’s not important.”

The soft sound of a jazz drum slithered through the air, and I snapped my head up, beyond happy for the interruption. “Music. Uh…” Great. Now I couldn’t even speak.

“We could dance,” he said softly, catching my eyes with his.

“Yeah. We should definitely do that.” I reached down for my purse, but before I could get my wallet, Nate had dropped two twenties on the table.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“No, no,” he said, reaching back for my hand as he turned toward the stairs. “Where I come from, a guy always pays for the first date.”