On the Catwalk AGAIN!

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I've got AP classes and they give me lots of work. Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you did the original version.

Kyoko

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After class…

The hallway was beginning to clear up since it was after school. Terry had already split, probably to go home and mope about our new "assignment" for the rest of the week. For once, I was with him on the whole brooding thing.

I shut my locker after shoving a textbook in it and jumped in surprise as I spotted Mr. Wilkinson…ah, Petey, standing behind it with that 1000-watt smile plastered on his face.

"Afternoon, Miss Gibson. I'm Mr. Wilkinson, as you may remember, and I am absolutely delighted to be able to teach you and Mr. McGinnis for the remainder of the week." I offered my hand numbly and he took it, pressing a kiss to the back. My eyebrow rose.

He opened the black one-inch binder in his hand and handed me two sheets of paper. I took them and scanned over the page in curiosity.

"This is your assignment for tonight. Please make sure your cutie partner receives his copy as well. I'll see you tonight!"

Winking, Mr. Wilkinson turned heel and glided down the hallway towards the exit. I looked back down at the paper and my mouth fell open.

"Please God, no…"

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"Wait, we have to do what?" Terry demanded at me in indignation. My head dropped in defeat as I shoved the lone black bikini I owned back into my blue duffel bag, sighing deeply.

"The first lesson is posing for an art class."

He groaned and collapsed face-first onto his bed, not moving.

"I can't believe this. What in God's name did I do to deserve this?" he grumbled through a pillow. I snorted.

"What did either of us do? I'm not exactly model material either."

I heard him make a funny noise and mutter something unintelligible. I stalked over to the bed and leaned over him, arms crossed under my chest.

"What was that?"

He sat up quickly and spared me a disarming grin, waving his hands in surrender. "I didn't say anything."

I glared at him suspiciously before turning and picking my duffel bag up from where it was perched on his dresser.

"C'mon," I muttered darkly. "We're gonna be late. I'll meet you there."

He sighed as I went out the doorway, dodging to the left as his little brother Matt whizzed by, playing with a toy plane. The younger boy tilted his head to the side at my disgruntled expression.

"What's wrong with you, Max?"

I shook my head, smiling bitterly. "You'll find out once you get to high school."

Mystified, Matt shrugged and continued down the hallway to his room. "Bye."

"Bye." I waved to Mrs. McGinnis, who was in the kitchen making dinner. She smiled and waved back, then I was gone.

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The paper told us to meet Mr. Wilkinson at Gotham University in the Fine Arts building. As much as I hated to be doing this, it was a good excuse to check out the campus. Currently, I was more interested in Gotham Tech, but it never hurts to look at other schools. Gotham University was huge and was located downtown, in the heart of the city. The Admissions Office was to the left of the entrance, which is rare because most colleges make you drive around in circles for hours trying to find it. Straight ahead from there was the football field, to the right of that; the tennis courts and basketball courts. The university had always been known more for its athletics rather than academics. Yet another reason I wanted to go to Gotham Tech instead.

The Fine Arts building was towards the rear of the campus and had three floors. We were supposed to meet him on the second one. Two hallways later, Terry and I found ourselves in front of the Classic Art & Drawing classroom. On the door was a piece of paper pointing to a room next door.

Miss Gibson and Mr. McGinnis,

Please change into the appropriate attire next door. I will be in shortly to introduce you to the class.

Petey

"…Are there little hearts above all the I's?"

I rolled my eyes, turning to head to the room next door. "That's the least of our problems, McGinnis."

The room was a janitor's closet. I stared at it in disbelief for a long while.

"…oh, he cannot be serious."

I heard Terry sigh behind me. "This just keeps getting better and better."

I massaged my temples for a moment, as if it would make the situation any better. Mr. Cromwell was dead tomorrow for assigning me to this. I fall asleep in class once and this is what I get.

"We'll have to change one at a time."

Terry relaxed into a smirk, lifting an eyebrow. "What? You don't trust me not to look?" He leaned forward in my face, the smirk widening. "Or do you not trust yourself?"

I rolled my eyes again. "You wish. Go."

He passed me and shut the door, chuckling. I leaned against the wall and tried my best not to imagine him taking his clothes off. Damn him.

Terry came back out within about five minutes dressed in a wifebeater and long, black shorts. Being Batman was certainly having effect on his clothing. As much as that amused me, it wasn't enough to keep me from noticing how toned his body was compared to a couple months ago. The wifebeater showed off the increased broadness of his shoulders and slight ripple of his abs. Terry had always been fit, but I guess Wayne had started training him. It looked good on him. He caught me looking and raised an eyebrow. Guiltily, I looked away and slipped into the janitor's closet.

Inside, I slapped my forehead. That was stupid. Keep it up and he'll think you have a crush on him.

Embarrassed by the mere thought of such a situation, I shook my head distractedly and dumped my duffel bag on the floor. The closet wasn't abysmally small, but no one should be in here for more than two or three minutes. There were mops, brooms, and other random cleaning appliances sticking out of those big trashcans with wheels that you always see along each wall and cupboards with paper towels and cleaning sprays stuffed in them. Wait, why did I care about what the room looked like? Stalling, who me?

I dug the black bikini out of my bag and sighed at it. God, I hated this thing. Whenever I went to the beach, and God-knows how often that was, I always ended up wearing a big t-shirt over it. Guys tended to not look at my face when I took it off.

I was in the middle of pulling the top on when an odd thought struck me. How would Terry react when he saw me wearing this? He'd only seen me in a dress once (well, twice counting the Xander incident) and he seemed to like it. I'd made a point not to be scantily clad around him, ever. He was the only guy I'd ever met that didn't want to get into my pants and I valued that. A lot. But recently…maybe it wasn't him I was worried about. It was me.

Once I had the bikini on, I shoved my ordinary clothes in the bag and opened the side of it to get my jacket. I stopped dead. It wasn't in there. Not good.

A knock sounded on the door and I jumped like I'd been shot.

"Max, the class is about to start. What's taking you so long?" Terry's voice was muffled over the sound of people walking into the classroom next door.

I gnawed on my bottom lip for a moment. I didn't want him or anyone to see me like this. Not now, anyway.

I cracked the door open enough to stick my arm out. "Ter, gimme your jacket."

From what I could see of his face, he looked confused. "Why? Isn't he gonna make you take it off anyway?"

I glared at him. "Jacket, please."

He opened his bag and handed me the jacket, not bothering to argue. "You can't possibly look that horrible in a bikini, Max."

I ignored him and ducked back inside before he could sneak a peek, pulling on the jacket and zipping it all the way up. Instantly, I felt better. The jacket hit me just above the knee. I'd have to thank Terry for being so much bigger than me later.

I reemerged from the closet in flip-flops and Terry's oversized jacket, opening the door to the classroom. I froze in the doorway. It was an all-male class. This is so wrong….

Mr. Wilkinson in front of a desk center stage since the room was set up that way: rows of chairs going up steps shaped in a half-circle around the front of the classroom. All of the chairs had large easels in front of them. Terry pushed me forward gently and out of the doorway, closing it behind him. I stared at all the blank male faces and clutched the neck of the jacket like a desperate woman. Did I mention I have a small fear of being in front of a crowd?

"Class, this is Maxine Gibson and Terry McGinnis. They're seniors at Hamilton Hill High School and will be your drawing subjects for this evening."

Mr. Wilkinson crossed the room and took my arm, leading me to a platform about three feet tall and covered in a white sheet. I followed him hesitantly until I was in front of it, very aware of all the eyes on me.

"We're gonna do individual poses first and then some pairings."

My eyes widened. "Pairings? What d'you mean 'pairings'?"

The effeminate model instructor adjusted the painters' cap placed at an angle on his feathery hair. "Y'know, pairings? You and Mr. McGinnis will pose together."

I felt my face slowly heat up in a blush. I silently thanked God that no one could see it and found a relevant thing to ask.

"What does posing for an art class have to do with modeling?"

He clapped his hands together. "That is a very good question. Would anyone like to answer?" Wilkinson gestured around at the still blank faces of the class and no one responded. I wasn't sure, but I swear I heard Terry snicker from behind me.

"Alright. Modeling takes poise, patience, and grace. By posing for these sketches, I will be able to assess which of these traits you have and which ones we need to work on. So…who's first?"

Terry and I instantly pointed at each other. The teacher's smile broadened.

"Oh, come now, don't be so shy! Why don't we start with our strapping young gentleman?"

Terry's face turned sour and I tried not to grin. He glared at me accusingly and I smiled triumphantly up at him. Wilkinson shooed me away and circled around McGinnis, a hand on his delicate chin in thought. Terry looked…well, terrified. He had the smallest case of homophobia. I thought it was hilarious. He didn't.

Wilkinson adjusted Terry's arms to down by his sides, tilting his head a little to the left, not noticing how he flinched each time he touched him. I leaned against the wall beside them, allowing myself to be slightly amused. Once he perfected Terry's pose, Wilkinson stepped to the side and spread his arms wide to the class.

"You may begin drawing."

Terry's eyes darted to look at him. "How long do I have to stay like this?"

"Oh, only about ten minutes or so."

Terry's shoulders slumped. Maybe I could deal with this after all.

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About 45 minutes later, Terry was done with all his poses. He hopped off the platform, rotating his neck like it was sore, and walked towards the wall where I was. Wilkinson crooked a finger at me and I could suddenly hear my heart in my ears.

"Come on, Miss Gibson. You're turn." His green eyes were sparkling demonically, as if he knew I was uncomfortable. When I didn't move, he took my wrist and tugged me in front of the platform, motioning for me to take off the jacket.

"Is this for a grade?" I asked stiffly, crossing my arms. The model instructor pursed his lips at me in a scowl.

"As a matter of fact, it is. How can you be afraid to show off that beautiful body of yours?"

I didn't say anything to that, but my eyes dropped as a blush slowly crept up my cheeks.

"Yeah, Max, flaunt it." Terry grinned, egging me on. I craned my neck and gave him a dirty look. It only made him grin wider.

"It's just…not one of my strong points." I confessed. Wilkinson smiled again and took the liberty of unzipping the jacket for me, grabbing the shoulders and jerking it off me. I made a small yip of surprise and clapped my hands over my chest instinctively. The guys in the class finally looked interested. Figures.

Wilkinson clucked his tongue and sat me down on the platform, prying my arms from across my breasts.

"Honey, we have got to work on your self-confidence. Every guy in here knows you're gorgeous, even McGinnis over there."

I only blushed harder, suddenly glad I couldn't see Terry's face from where I was sitting. Wilkinson crossed my legs and put one of my hands on my knee, leaning my head a little to the side and stepped back.

"You may begin drawing."

It was suddenly dead silent. I hated it. It was more than the utter discomfort of sitting in front of total strangers and letting them draw me in a bikini; I had to sit here and remember that I had to tell Terry that Dana wanted to break up with him. I felt the overwhelming urge to run away and stuffed it down inside my gut. Running away from the problem wouldn't solve anything. Maybe I should just get it over with, right after we leave here. Maybe he'd be in a good mood and not take it as hard. No, who was I kidding? It would hurt his feelings either way. I guess I always ended up being the one to pick up the pieces…

When all my poses were done, Mr. Wilkinson beckoned a finger at Terry. My pulse skyrocketed. How could I have forgotten about the pairings?

Mr. Pete, which I started to call him in my head because "Petey" was too gay and "Mr. Wilkinson" took too much thought, sat Terry down on the platform first with his legs open. He pushed me down on the platform next. I sat on the edge, avoiding skin contact, all too aware of how close my best friend was to me. Why did this bother me so much?

"Scoot back some, Max." Mr. Pete instructed. Reluctantly, I scooted an inch or two backwards.

"Keep going."

I scooted one more inch. He motioned for me to go back farther. I moved again and ended up with my back against Terry's chest. It was very warm and distracting. I could feel my pulse in my ears like a thick whisper. Calm down. It's not like that. Just taking a sketch with your best friend. …Yeah, right.

Pete tucked Terry's arms around me and placed his hands in my lap palms up, mine facing down, and interlocked our fingers. I was now very snugly fit against his body since he was about three inches taller than me and wouldn't be able to move for ten minutes. Great.

"Class, you may begin drawing."

I chose a spot on the wall and fixed my eyes on it, trying to ignore feel of his skin so near mine. Why was I reacting this way? We'd been friends for years and being near him never bothered me before. But…then again, this was far more intimate. We'd hugged before, but he'd never held me like this and I'd never asked him to. That wasn't the "best friend's" position; it was the "girlfriend's" position. For the first time in a while, I began to realize that maybe I was hiding something from myself. Maybe… I wanted to be here.

I frowned to myself slightly. That couldn't be right…could it? I knew he didn't feel that way about me…did he? No. I was thinking too hard.

But…this did feel kind of good.

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OO OMG. This is waaaay longer than I thought it was going to be. I hope you liked it; personally, I didn't really like the way it turned out too much. But you're the judges—let me know!

Kyoko