He laughed then, a rich sound that seemed to rip right through me, it’s grip tightening around my heart. “Is there something wrong with being naked?”
I felt my face flush hot as his question hung in the air. “N-no,” I stammered, swallowing hard. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I just... wasn’t expecting it.”
His smirk widened as he swam closer to the edge where I stood. I could see more of him now. He had lean but defined muscles, impossibly smooth skin that seemed to shimmer in places when the water caught the light, and yes, those eyes. They weren’t just blue. They were vibrant, like the color of the sea in summer, and had an almost luminous quality that made them visible even in the dim lighting.
“So are you going to join me?” he asked, floating onto his back with casual confidence. He made no attempt to cover himself as his soft cock broke the surface. “Or just stand there staring all night?”
My heart hammered against my ribs. Everything about this moment felt dangerous—being caught after hours, the way he looked at me, the undeniable attraction I felt. My slacks were getting far too tight.
“I can see from here that you’re interested,” he grinned, his gaze dropping to my groin before returning to my eyes. He reached down, his hand trailing down his abs until he brushed his fingers over his cock. “I’d be down for a little midnight fun if you are.”
I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. Suddenly I felt like I was going to pass out, the sheer excitement of the moment threatening to overwhelm me.
“I… uh… I have to go,” I stammered, the panic settling in. “Bye.”
“Bye cutie,” he called after me. “Come back again when you’ve grown a backbone.”
The teasing tone in his voice made embarrassment flush hot in my cheeks, but I didn’t stop. I wanted, more than anything, to go back and lose my virginity right there in the academy swimming pool. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I excelled at almost everything I did, but when it came to this… I hadnoidea what to do.
And now I’d probably missed my only chance to find out.
Chapter 4
Nerion
Istood at the front of the gallery, the rest of my classmates parked on the floor or leaning against tables. Behind me were three of my most recent oil paintings, each of them depicting a stormy sea with crashing waves consuming ships. The last one, and the one I was most proud of, I’d just finished that morning. The paint was stillverywet.
Everyone stared at me expectantly, waiting for me to wow them at this mandatory critique of our work every semester. This week it was my turn, and I fully expected to get nothing out of it as usual.
“More landscapes,” I said, gesturing to the paintings behind me. “I’m sure you’re surprised.” That got a couple of giggles from the sophomores. “This year I’m working mostly on capturing a sense of believable realism while pushing colors as far as I can without losing that credibility. Subject matter mostly remains the same. I’ll pick some of these for the Junior Exhibition, just not sure which to go with yet.”
They all stared at me, clearly anticipating some long-winded speech about feelings. Maybe they wanted me to break down and cry as I went on about my personal problems that I’d poured intothe paintings. But I didn’t. I just stood there, silently waiting for their critique.
“Give us a little bit more to work with,” Professor Aurelia said. “I think we can all see that your technique is good, but what’s your reason behind these paintings? Why the sea? Why a storm?”
“I…” I began, my words failing me. “I just like water, I guess. The ocean is fun to paint.”
“Okay,” Aurelia nodded. “But why storms? If it was just fun, why not paint something happy, like a sunset in Hawaii or something?”
“To be honest with you,” I replied, crossing my arms. “If I was going to paint something as mundane as sunsets, I wouldn’t have come to college for art. I just would’ve learned on YouTube and hired some hot girl to sell them for me on Instagram.”
Thatgot a lot more laughs. And a few glares. There was more than one painting student that did literally nothing but sunsets that looked like they belonged on a Trapper Keeper in the nineties.
“Are you saying you don’t want to be mainstream?” Aurelia pushed, still searching for answers. “That you don’t want to sell your work? What’s your goal when you paint?”
I shifted my weight uncomfortably under Aurelia’s gaze. She was doing that thing again where she tried to psychoanalyze my artwork like it was some window into my damaged soul.
“My goal is to paint well,” I finally said. “To capture something that feels real.”
“But why storms specifically?” she pressed. “There’s clearly some emotional connection there. The way you paint water in turmoil speaks to something deeper.”
I clenched my jaw. This was exactly why I hated these critiques. Everyone always wanted to dig beneath the surface, to find some profound meaning or trauma that explained my art.As if I couldn’t just enjoy painting the goddamn ocean without it being some cry for help.
“Fine,” I said, crossing my arms tighter. “I paint storms because they’re powerful. Because they’re beautiful and terrifying at the same time. Because they remind us that nature doesn’t give a shit about humanity or their little boats.” I gestured toward the shipwreck in my latest piece. “Is that deep enough for you?”
Professor Aurelia leaned back, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. She thought she’d won, that she’d gotten me to open up. She had no idea how practiced I was at giving people just enough to make them back off.
“Let’s hear from the rest of the class,” she said, looking satisfied. “What do you all think about Nerion’s work?”