Chapter two
Regina could hear how shrill her voice had gotten, but she couldn't stop it from happening. Her palms were sweating, and her legs were still trembling from all the orgasms she'd had over the past few days.
"No, really," she said, pressing the phone closer to her ear. "I just have the supplies lying around the house. I'd be happy to donate them."
Down the line, she could hear Eugenia's disbelief. "You just happened to have 20 new sets of pencils, paints and charcoals lying around?"
"Yes. I… Um," Regina floundered. "I won them in a raffle."
Eugenia didn't laugh at that, but it was obvious that she'd come close.
"Well, that's very generous of you," she said. "Feel free to bring them by whenever you have time. Or I can stop by your house and collect them, if that's easier?"
"No, no," Regina quickly said. "That's alright, I can stop by. In fact, you know what? If you need a model for this week's class, I could bring them by then."
Eugenia hesitated as they finally reached the heart of the matter.
"Well. Technically I don't have anyone booked in yet, but most of my regulars are healthy again, so—"
"You don't need to pay me," Regina blurted out. She forced herself to take a breath when she realised how desperate she sounded. "I mean – I'm just trying to get out of the house and I enjoyed the experience, so you'd be doing me a favour. I don't need the money."
She could practically hear Eugenia's thought process down the line: she's insane. She's got absolutely no life. Inviting her back might be a recipe for total disaster. We do need the supplies, though. Saving $25 a week would be helpful.
Eventually, she sighed. "Fine. If you're sure you're happy with that, then we'll be glad to have you back again on Wednesday."
"Great," Regina breathed. "I can't wait."
"But," Eugenia continued. "We can't use you every week – there needs to be variety, otherwise the students won't learn anything."
She had a point, unfortunately. Regina deflated.
"How about every other week?" she asked weakly. She heard Eugenia sigh again.
"Very well," she said. "But you need to prepare for your poses getting more and more unorthodox if we're going to keep this interesting."
Regina had a sudden flash of herself posing like a porn star, her legs spread wide and her fingers in her mouth as Emma looked on. Her pussy throbbed automatically, and she shook the thought out of her head.
"Not a problem," she said. "Like I said – I'm trying to get out of my comfort zone."
Eugenia's laugh was soft and disbelieving. "Alright then. I'll see you on Wednesday."
"Great," Regina replied, hanging up with a grin. She looked at the calendar: three days to go. Three days until she could stop imagining Emma and actually see her in person instead.
Emma was on time for their next class, but she couldn't say she was looking forward to it very much. The previous week, she'd scampered from the classroom in a panic so she could clean herself up and make herself presentable for when she returned to speak to Regina. The charcoal had been stubborn on her hands, though, and once she'd finished scrubbing them she'd found herself having a borderline insane conversation with herself in the mirror as she tried and failed to remember how normal, human adults talked to one another. When she'd walked back into the classroom, she found it deserted and the lights off. She looked at the clock and realised she'd been gone for nearly 15 minutes.
"Fuck," she snapped to herself as she collected her belongings. It was only then that she realised the room wasn't entirely deserted after all.
"Language," Eugenia said from the back of the room. Emma jumped and turned to face her.
"Sorry. I just… didn't realise how late it was." After a long pause, she added, "Did Regina leave already?"
"I believe so. She took some photos of your sketches, though. They're very good."
Emma smiled tightly at that. "That's great."
It didn't feel great. She'd missed her chance to talk to her, and it was all her own stupid fault.
"Will she be back again?" she heard herself ask. Eugenia looked up from her work.
"Who?"
"Regina. Or whatever her name was," Emma tagged on like that would convince their eagle-eyed teacher. Eugenia was already looking at her over the top of her glasses with her eyebrows raised high into her hairline.
"I doubt it," she said slowly. "She was on my reserve list, and you know that we normally rotate models."
Disappointment swelled up inside Emma like high tide in the harbour. She could feel it leaving slime and annoyance up her ribs.
"Sure," she said, grabbing her belongings and turning for the door. "See you next week, then."
And now next week was here, and she wished she were anywhere else. She'd spent hours Googling variations of 'Regina', 'life drawing' and 'Boston' the day before just in case Regina was a professional model, but she'd had no luck finding her. And given that she knew absolutely nothing else about her apart from the fact that she had eyes that reminded Emma of 90 percent cocoa chocolate, she was stuck. She just had to accept that she'd never see her again.
She walked into class and threw herself into her usual chair. The stage was all set up for the model, but they hadn't arrived yet.
Emma slumped lower and reached for her backpack. Just as she was rummaging inside it for her supplies, Eugenia appeared at her elbow holding out a brand new pack of watercolours and charcoal sticks.
"What's this?" Emma asked, slowly taking them.
"They were donated."
"Really?" Emma asked, frowning. Donations to their crapheap college were almost unheard of – most of the supplies in that room had been purchased by Eugenia herself and had been there since 1986. "By who?"
Before Eugenia could answer, the door to the back office swung open and a familiar figure approached them. Regina was wearing her robe, and her face lit up when she saw Emma sitting a few feet away.
"Oh," Emma choked out. "It's… Hey."
"Hi," Regina replied, turning to smile at Eugenia. Her hair was different to last week – it was curlier and messier, and it also looked like she was wearing slightly more make-up. When she brushed past, Emma could smell her perfume.
As Regina settled herself down on her little platform, still wearing her robe and with her phone in her hand, Emma forced herself not to stare. She was a mess that day, because she'd been in such a bad mood that she hadn't even bothered to brush her hair, and now Regina was sitting in front of her looking like a Greek fucking statue. Emma glanced at the door and wondered whether she could get away with rushing for the bathroom again.
But then Regina glanced up, caught Emma's eye and smiled. Emma all but melted into her chair.
The class was just as painful as the week before – worse, even, because Eugenia got Regina to sit or stand in even more provocative poses to try and mix things up a little. By the end of the two hours, when Regina was kneeling on the platform with her knees slightly apart and her hands resting on her ribcage, just beneath her breasts, Emma realised that she was struggling to breathe. Her childhood asthma hadn't been much of a problem in the past 10 years, but now it had suddenly come careering back at full force. She took one look at Regina's cocky face and felt her lungs close up entirely.
Forcing herself to focus on her work, Emma dipped her brush back into her new watercolours and went back to filling in the shadow between Regina's thighs. Her bikini wax still hadn't started growing back, because evidently Regina was the type of person who was always smooth and silky and infuriatingly perfect, and every time she glanced up at it, Emma felt her vision go hazy. She idly wondered what it would feel like to pin Regina's hips to the table and run her tongue along the full length of her slit.
"Alright, everyone – I think we're done for the day."
Eugenia's voice made Emma drop her paintbrush entirely. She ducked under her easel to collect it, hoping no one would notice the new redness in her cheeks, then immediately smacked her head on the wooden frame on the way back up.
"Jesus," she hissed, rubbing the back of her skull. When she looked up, Regina was watching her with an anxious frown on her face. Emma turned away to hide her embarrassment and hurriedly began to pack her paints away, trying to ignore the fact that Regina was still watching her as she slowly pulled her robe back on.
After a few moments, Regina stood up and tightened her robe around her. People were packing away and, just as she had the previous week, she began to take a slow walk around the class so she could look at their paintings. Emma watched her. Regina was so much smaller than everyone else in the room, but she had a strange kind of presence that commanded attention no matter who she was standing next to. Emma sighed wistfully, praying that when she finished her journey, she would stop by Emma's easel so they could finally have the talk that they'd missed out on last week.
But right at that second, a young woman rushed over to Regina's side fast enough to make her jump.
"Hey," she said. Emma immediately glared at her: she was an overenthusiastic Australian called Billie or Belle or something, and although she'd never had a problem with her before, Emma suddenly wanted her dead. "I just wanted to say hi."
Regina looked slightly taken aback. "Oh. Hi."
"How long have you been modelling for?"
Emma watched as Regina awkwardly pulled her robe closer together over her throat. "Not long – last week was my first class."
"Really? You're a natural," Bella or Becky said. "Are we going to be seeing you in more classes now? I actually quite like it when models come more often – it gives us a better chance to work on the details."
Regina glanced up then, saw Emma staring at them, and smiled. Emma turned away at once, her cheeks prickling. She was basically packed up and Regina wasn't even halfway around the room yet.
She sighed, realising she'd lost her chance for yet another week – and, yet again, it might be the last time she ever saw Regina. She couldn't very well hang around just waiting for her to approach her – it would look utterly pathetic, and Regina would probably assume she was only interested in her because she wanted her to compliment her work.
With a groan, Emma grabbed her stuff and picked up a loose pencil that she'd managed to drop. Just as she was reaching for her paintings, she paused. She looked down at the object in her hand.
Regina was still talking to Belle, but surely at some point they'd finish and she would resume her loop of the room. She'd arrive at Emma's easel eventually. She might even stop if she saw that something had accidentally been left there.
Before she could tell herself that she was being stupid, Emma grabbed her favourite painting and scribbled a note at the bottom.
Regina,
Give me a call? I'd love to buy you a drink.
Emma
She wrote her phone number underneath it. Putting the paper carefully back on the easel, Emma took a step back and turned toward the door. When Regina caught her eye again, Emma smiled at her. Regina seemed to shiver with relief.
But Emma had to leave, because she couldn't just hang around watching everyone else take turns trying to win Regina's approval. Besides, if she stayed there a second longer, she'd probably chicken out and end up snatching the painting back before Regina could even see it.
So instead she hurried for the door, not looking up again even though she could feel Regina watching her hopefully. She was determined to regain some kind of composure after all the times she'd made an ass of herself in front of this woman.
Emma told herself that Regina probably wouldn't call right away. She was busy and, yes, probably straight, so she would read the message and think it was a casual attempt at friendship. She'd be grateful and pleased and then she'd text the next day to arrange a drink. Maybe it would even be Friday. Because of this, Emma spent the next two days with her phone clamped in her hand at all times, even when she was out on jobs. On Saturday evening, she found herself on a stakeout staring down at her silent phone for so long that she nearly missed her perp as he strolled right by her car.
By Sunday, her mood had begun to descend.
When she walked into their class on Wednesday, she was a mess of nerves. She'd nearly worn a hole in her phone screen from all the opening and closing she'd done on the messages app, and now she wasn't entirely sure how she'd cope with seeing Regina at all. Her original plan was to completely blank her, but deep down she knew she wouldn't be able to manage that. Instead, she'd made herself look as pretty as possible and had worn a white shirt that was borderline see-through in some lights. If Regina didn't want to text her then that was fine, but Emma would be sure to show her exactly what she was missing out on in the meantime.
Except she walked into class with her chin thrust in the air and her tight jeans cutting into her stomach, and she ground to a halt. The person sitting on the boxes in the centre of the room definitely wasn't Regina.
Tiny waved at her. "Hey, Emma."
"Hey," Emma replied slowly, thankful that he was still wearing his robe. "You're back?"
"Looks like it. I was out sick for a while but I'm back in the game."
Emma nodded tersely. "Great. Good to see you again."
She turned and headed for her seat, her shoulders slumping. She suddenly didn't even want to be there anymore.
Her favourite hobby had turned into an exercise in sexually frustrated torture, but right then she wasn't even getting that – Regina was nowhere to be found, and maybe she'd never come back. Maybe she'd taken one look at Emma's message and run for the hills.
Then Eugenia appeared in front of her, pulling her from her dark thoughts. She was watching her curiously.
"What?" Emma asked.
"I feel like I had something to tell you," Eugenia said. Hope sparked up inside Emma once more.
"Really? Is it about Regina?"
"What? Why would it be about Regina?" Eugenia asked. When Emma just blushed, she rolled her eyes and leaned forward. "Look, I know you're not exactly straight as a pole, but could you try and keep your tongue in your mouth when the models are around? I don't want you making them feel uncomfortable."
Emma's heart sank. "Is that why she's not here? She's uncomfortable?"
"I was speaking in generalities, you silly girl. No, that's not why – I just can't use the same models every single week. We need some diversity. She'll be back another time."
"Oh," Emma said, trying to decide whether she should be happy about that or not. She hadn't scared Regina off, which was good, but she also still hadn't gotten a message from her. She hadn't exactly come out of this as the winner either way. "Then… what did you want to tell me?"
Eugenia looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before sighing. "Ah, I'm sure it'll come back to me later. I tell you, appreciate your memory while you're still young – it doesn't take long before that goes south along with everything else."
Once she'd wandered off, Emma forced herself to endure a full two hours without Regina. She thought ahead to the next week – would she be back then? Did she even want her to be back? If she clearly wasn't interested then was it even worth going through this at all?
"Emma," Eugenia snapped from somewhere behind her. "Focus. You're all over the place today."
Gritting her teeth, Emma hunched closer to her easel.
No more thinking of her, she told herself, dipping her brush in the water. Not now – not all week.
Going two full weeks without the class was going to be sheer torture. That Wednesday, Regina sat on the couch with her eyes glued to the clock, thinking about how Emma would be drawing someone else right then. Maybe she blushed and got nervous around them, too. Maybe her eyes got a little wider whenever she tried to sketch their—
"Mom," Henry interrupted her thoughts. "Are you listening to me?"
Regina looked round at him. "Sorry – I was miles away. What were you saying?"
"You look all pink," Henry said, frowning. Regina felt herself blush even harder – she'd been thinking of Emma, and thinking of Emma always did one very specific thing to her body. She was glad it was nearly nine o'clock, which meant soon Henry would be bundled off to bed and she could do something to remedy it.
"It's just warm in here," she said, reaching out to scrub a hand over his hair. "Now, what were you saying?"
"I was asking about your cooking class," he said. "You said it got moved to Wednesdays, but now you're here."
Damn her son for being so perceptive. "It's every other Wednesday now," she lied. "I don't know what happened. Some scheduling problem."
"Oh. Okay," he shrugged. "Have you learned anything fun?"
Given that she hadn't been to that particular class since the second week, it was hard to answer that. "Not recently, but they said we're going to tackle lobsters soon."
"Ooh!" Henry's eyes widened. "Can you bring me some home?"
"I don't know if you'll like it."
"I want to try."
"Fine – I'll do my best," she said, making a mental note to pick something up from the gourmet supermarket across town before he could get suspicious. "Now, young man – I think it's bed time."
"But it's not even nine yet!"
"Right, and you keep dragging it out for as long as possible while thinking I won't notice. Come on, you need some sleep."
"I do not," Henry grumbled, although he was clambering off the couch already. He gave her a kiss on the cheek and mumbled, "Night, Mom."
"Goodnight, Henry."
He hurried up the stairs in pyjamas that were still too big for him even though Regina had bought them the previous Christmas, and he shut his bedroom door. The second she was certain he was gone, Regina rushed into her office and locked it.
As soon as she'd collapsed into her chair, she unbuttoned her pants and slid a hand into her panties. She whimpered out loud at how wet she was. It never seemed to lessen anymore – no matter how many times she thought about the exact same scenario, where Emma got up in the middle of their class and crawled on top of her and thrust her fingers deep inside her over and over and over again, the excitement never faded. She particularly loved imagining it where everyone else around them continued painting, and she had to try and remain as motionless as possible even as Emma brought her up to her limit.
She writhed her in her chair and plunged her fingers inside again before pulling them out and rubbing them hard over her clit, not working up gradually but just diving right in because she was supposed to be in the same room as Emma right at that second and the distance between them was making her cunt needier than ever. She didn't even care why she felt this way – she'd had maybe a two-day period of panicking over the fact that she clearly had a crush on another woman when she'd spent 37 years resolutely believing that she was straight, but soon enough, that got boring. Eventually she'd realised that it was much easier to just accept that fact, grab her vibrator and hold it firm against her clit while she gripped hold of her headboard, imagining that it was Emma's hands pinning her there.
The following Wednesday came around with a little too much fanfare. Regina had called Eugenia to confirm that she was still booked in – much to the older woman's annoyance, since she'd already spoken to her three times that week – and had spent most of the day buzzing around her office with excitement. By the time Tamara came to collect Henry, she was close to delirious.
"Aunt Tamara," Henry said as he opened the door. "Mom's acting weird."
Tamara glanced up at Regina, who was bouncing on the balls of her feet at the bottom of the staircase. She raised her eyebrows.
"Wow. She sure is. That excited to cook a casserole, are you?"
Regina tried to glare back at her, but it was futile. "The pair of you spent weeks trying to get me to leave the house and make new friends, and as soon as I'm excited to do so, you mock me?"
She watched as Tamara and Henry exchanged a look before Tamara said, "Yeah, that pretty much sums it up."
"I immensely dislike you both," Regina said, swooping down to kiss her son's cheek before giving Tamara a hug. Tamara nearly staggered backward with shock.
"Since when have you been a hugger?" she asked. "And why are you wearing so much make-up?"
"I'm just excited," Regina said, because she was too buzzed to even think of an excuse. Tamara was watching her curiously – she knew the cooking class was a fake excuse, but that still didn't explain any of this. The Regina she knew should still be dreading going to a community college and whipping her clothes off for a bunch of sort-of-artists.
She turned and nudged Henry out the door, and as soon as he was a few steps away leaned in to Regina's ear and muttered, "Are you getting laid?"
"What?" Regina asked, flinching. "No, of course not."
Tamara looked down at the tiny diamond necklace she was wearing. "Right. But you want to be?"
Regina opened her mouth to protest it, but the words got stuck. She'd never been a particularly good liar.
"Oh my God," Tamara gasped. Henry turned back to look at them. "You need to tell me now."
"There's absolutely nothing to tell you."
"Henry, go wait in the car. There's candy in the glove box," Tamara called over her shoulder. Henry ran off at once, and before Regina could scold either of them, Tamara was asking, "Who is he?"
"No one," Regina insisted, though she could feel her cheeks starting to turn red. "You're reading too much into this."
"I am not. I know you so much better than you give me credit for. Is it the teacher?"
"No!" Regina said, trying to take a step back. Tamara immediately grabbed her wrist. "The teacher's a 60-year-old woman."
"Hm," Tamara mused, still sounding unconvinced. "Then who? I knew there had to be a reason why you agreed to go back. Is he younger? Is he an artist?"
"Oh my God, stop," Regina sighed, snatching her arm away. "Fine. I'll tell you, but you can't make a big deal out of it."
"You know full well that I'm not going to agree to that."
Regina groaned. "Then I won't say anything."
"Fine. I promise – I'll be good. Tell me about him."
Glancing over Tamara's shoulder to check that Henry was still waiting safely in the car, Regina took a deep breath. "It's not a him."
"It's not?"
"No. Her… her name's Emma."
For a second, Tamara just stared at her. Regina had a horrible moment of realising that they'd never even discussed same-sex relationships before and there was every chance that her best friend could turn out to be a closet homophobe.
But then Tamara squawked out loud and grabbed Regina's arm once more. "You're kidding."
"Of course I'm not."
"How did you meet her? Have you kissed her?"
"No. Nothing like that," Regina blushed furiously. "It's not a big deal. We've barely even spoken. She's just in the class and she's… very pretty. I want to get to know her better. That's all."
A glimmer of disappointment crossed Tamara's face before she said, "You need to invite her out for a drink."
"Excuse me?"
"Come on – you're trying new things, remember? We're getting you out of your comfort zone. Getting your clothes off for a bunch of strangers was a great start, but deciding to bat for the other team is an excellent development that I never would have expected."
Regina snatched her arm back again, although she was struggling to suppress her grin. "I'm already way out of my comfort zone, thank you. I don't need to start asking random women out too."
"Do it for me," Tamara begged.
"I'm already in the middle of doing something for you!"
"Only the first class was for me – everything since then has been purely you."
"I'm not asking her out," Regina insisted. "She might be straight."
"Just like you are, you mean?" Tamara pointed out. "Does she seem interested in you?"
Regina thought back to their last class – Emma's face had lit up like a sunrise when she'd seen her, and at the end of the class, when that Australian girl had been hogging Regina's attention, she'd looked so disappointed. When Emma had left, she'd deliberately caught Regina's eye and smiled at her. She'd even spent a while at her easel scribbling something down, although when Regina had stopped by five minutes later, there had been nothing there.
Her hesitation told Tamara everything.
"Henry's with me all night," she said firmly. "You've got the house to yourself. If you don't invite her back here to fuck your brains out, I'll never speak to you again."
Regina spluttered. "I am not—"
"Tamara," Henry suddenly called from the open window of the car. "Can you hurry up? I want to play Mario Kart."
Tamara waved in acknowledgment, then turned back to his mother.
"Send me an update," she said. "And leave your hair down. It makes it look more grabbable."
With that helpful piece of advice, she swanned out of the house and down the path. Regina was left loitering in the doorway, her heart pounding and her palms sweating as she imagined Emma sliding her fingers through her hair and finally pulling their mouths together.
Emma was in absolutely no mood for painting when she arrived at the classroom. She'd failed spectacularly in her mission to not think about Regina all week, and instead had spent the majority of the past seven days frantically plugging her first name followed by all the most common job titles she could think of into LinkedIn. Her total failure had led to a very bad headache and possibly a few restraining orders from all the profiles she'd ended up clicking on, and by the time Wednesday had rolled around, she almost hoped Regina wouldn't be there at all. Maybe the distance would be good for her.
But she was, of course. As soon as Emma walked through the door she spotted Regina sitting primly on the edge of one of the blocks, her legs crossed and her lips pressed together. She turned her head as the door opened and, when she caught Emma's eye, threw her an enormous, beaming grin.
Emma nearly staggered back a step. What the fuck?
She'd left Regina her phone number – the message had been very clear. She'd also given her that stupid dopey smile before she'd left the classroom and she'd spend the entire class staring at her ass, for crying out loud. There was absolutely no way Regina could have misinterpreted her meaning, and yet two weeks had gone by without a single word from her. And now, this – a huge, relieved smile with absolutely no trace of regret in it. It made no sense whatsoever.
Regina must have seen the confusion on Emma's face, because her grin faltered. Emma offered her a quick quirk of her lips in response, but it was half-hearted and they both knew it.
She hurried to her normal spot and sat down, glancing up at her easel in case Regina had left a note there in reply to her own – My phone's broken, I'm so sorry – but there was nothing. Swallowing down her residual mortification and the need to run for the hills, Emma pulled out her charcoals and settled down, waiting for the class to start. She didn't look up again.
Regina watched her with her happiness slowly dimming. She could see from Emma's face that she wasn't pleased to see her again, although she had no idea why. Was it just because she hadn't been there the week before? Maybe it was because Belle had spent so long talking to her at the end of the previous class – she'd been very sweet, but that was all, and Regina had spent every minute trying desperately to wriggle away from her. She'd seen Emma watching her on the other side of the room and she'd wanted so badly to go and join her. She thought she knew that.
She stared at Emma's profile, hoping the burn of her gaze would eventually force her to look at her, but it didn't.
Emma pulled her phone out and, with her cheeks slowly turning red, began lazily swiping across the screen. She wasn't doing anything – Regina knew it. She was just avoiding looking at her until she absolutely had to.
When Eugenia put her in her first position, facing in the opposite direction, Regina nearly screamed.
She endured the first half hour with tense shoulders and a piercing headache until she was finally told to turn around. As she positioned herself sitting cross-legged on the blocks with her hands resting in her lap, she locked eyes with Emma again. Emma looked back at her and smiled for half a second, but then glanced away again. Her demeanour immediately went cold.
Regina kind of wanted to cry. She'd spent two weeks building this moment up in her head – she'd even gone and forced a beautician to do a bikini wax on hair that was barely a millimetre long just so she'd be smooth and perfect again, and she'd imagined the hundreds of different ways Emma would smirk and blush and glitter as she watched her. It had all been completely over the top and ridiculous, like something a love-struck teenager might do to try and attract the attention of her crush for five measly seconds, but the worst part was that Regina hadn't even felt embarrassed. She'd been excited. It had been so long since she'd felt like this that she'd gotten way too ahead of herself, and now she was left disappointed again. She wished she could reach up and scrub her make-up off.
Forcing herself to sit still, she kept her eyes on Emma's face and watched as she drew her. It was the only shred of pleasure she had left. Emma seemed to have settled into her sketching, as she usually did about halfway into the class, and her eyes weren't so hard anymore. She was glancing up at Regina every few seconds, taking in her body without paying much attention the frown on her face. She wondered whether this would be another headless drawing simply because Emma couldn't bear to make eye contact with her.
By the time she was in her third pose, lying on her stomach with her chin resting on her hands, Regina just wanted to go home. The room seemed colder that week and she was starting to realise that everything she thought she'd seen over the past few weeks had been entirely in her head. Emma didn't like her – she was just interested in her body because she was a fucking nude model, and after this Regina would have to go home alone and take off her stupid diamond necklace and find a way to convince herself that this all meant so much less than she thought it had.
She sighed and closed her eyes. You should have just stayed straight.
The last hour passed slowly, and when Eugenia finally told her that she could get up again, Regina wasn't surprised to find that her eyes were scratchy. Sniffing hard, she tugged her robe back on and hoped that no one was watching her. Emma, for one, was already shoving stuff back into her bag, obviously just as desperate to get out of there as she was.
"Regina, you should really take a look at this week's paintings," Eugenia suddenly said. "Some of them are excellent."
Regina groaned. She couldn't very well say no without looking rude, so she forced on a smile and walked toward the nearest easel. She barely paid attention to what was on it, because her eyes were already on the blonde head on the opposite side of the circle. No matter how hurt and how disappointed she felt, she still hoped she made it over there before Emma vanished.
Emma's final drawing was still on display by the time she arrived, and she felt herself pause. It was good – really good. Probably her best one yet. The lines were soft and tentative, like Emma didn't trust herself to look too closely but had Regina's shape memorised anyway. Regina stared at it for a solid minute, and if Emma felt her presence beside her, she didn't comment on it.
But eventually the silence got too much, and Regina had to do something. Her pride was already at rock bottom and she still felt dangerously close to tears, but she had nothing else to lose. If nothing else, talking to her might finally give her some kind of closure on this whole stupid ordeal.
She cleared her throat and, summoning every ounce of bravery she possessed, said, "Hi."
Emma looked up at once. She smiled at first, like she just couldn't help herself, before her expression slipped again.
"Hey," she said slowly. After a beat, she asked, "Regina, right?"
Emma wanted to kick herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Eugenia had been shouting her name across the room for long enough that of course she knew it – she was just filling the empty air with nonsense, and Regina was going to think she was even more idiotic than before.
Except Regina was already beaming. "Yes, that's it. And it's Emma, right?"
Emma nodded. "Yeah. Hey."
And then silence fell.
Emma was so fucking confused. Regina looked so tentative and uncertain, like she wasn't sure she should be there at all, and for a second Emma wondered whether maybe she'd gone into gay panic mode and simply not texted her because she thought that refraining would somehow lessen her huge crush. She was right there, though, sneaking over as soon as she possibly could, which meant none of this made any sense at all. The confusion was making Emma's temples throb.
She looked away with a sigh and she felt Regina's face crumple. The silence that stretched out between them was agonising.
Deciding that she couldn't feel any shittier if she tried, Regina took a breath.
"Sorry," she said quietly, waiting for Emma to look up again. "Did I… Have I done something wrong?"
Emma's expression flickered. She looked so uncertain.
But just as she was opening her mouth to respond, they were interrupted.
"Emma!" Eugenia suddenly bellowed from behind them. They both turned sharply and found her watching them with a large piece of paper in her hands. "Remember last week when I said I needed to tell you something?"
"Yeah?"
"Looking at your drawings just now reminded me," Eugenia said, holding out one hand. "You left this here the week before last."
Emma and Regina looked down at the drawing at the same time. There was Emma's version of Regina, sitting in her final pose from two weeks ago. In the bottom corner, as clear as day, was the message Emma had scribbled.
Emma felt her face go bright red. Beside her, Regina had gone still.
"I thought you must want it," Eugenia continued when neither of them reacted. "It's one of your strongest pieces so far."
She was clearly oblivious to the mess she'd made by picking up Emma's drawing as soon as she'd vacated the room. Emma reached out and snatched it off her, muttering her thanks, and waited for Eugenia to amble off again before she put the lost piece of paper back on her easel with a huge sigh.
Before she could say anything or try to push the picture away where no one would ever see it again, Regina slowly reached out. She picked it up and stared at it for a good minute, her lips twitching at the corners.
Emma watched her, following her gaze as it dropped time and time again to the note at the bottom.
Regina was beaming when she asked, "Did you leave this here for me?"
All the disappointment from the past two weeks left Emma's body with that one question.
"Yeah," she said awkwardly, rubbing a hand against the back of her neck. "I… I thought you got it."
Regina could see the relief in Emma's eyes. Her mysterious coldness from earlier that evening had entirely vanished.
"No, I didn't," she said, handing the picture back. "I saw you writing something but when I came over, there was nothing here."
"Right," Emma replied, shoving the picture away. "That… makes a bit more sense now."
Regina genuinely thought she could cry with relief. She tugged her robe more tightly around herself and shifted from one foot to the other.
"It's great," she said, nodding to the bag where the drawings were now stashed. "The picture."
"Thanks," Emma said. She slowly stood up and lifted her backpack onto the chair. "Is it weird? Seeing drawings of yourself?"
"Not really. It was at first, but you're all so talented and I mostly just find it interesting."
"Well, it's easy to do a good drawing when you have a good model," Emma said before she could stop herself. She visibly cringed. "Sorry. That sounded weird."
"No, it didn't," Regina said softly. Now that Emma was at the same height as her, she could see her eyes properly for the first time. They were so perfectly green.
Emma gave her a jerky nod. It was the only gesture she could summon when relief was swelling inside her and her face was burning just from the fact that Regina was still talking to her. "Cool. Well – I'm glad."
"Glad about what?" Regina asked. Her voice was tender and it didn't feel like she was trying to trip Emma up, so she answered honestly.
"Glad to see you again."
Regina's face lit up at that, and when Emma realised she could see pinkness staining her perfectly smooth cheeks, she felt her legs go weak. She'd spent hours staring at Regina's naked body, and somehow this was the most intimate moment they'd ever shared.
Regina looked up at the clock and realised what time it was. Emma was all packed up and ready to go, and the thought of her leaving again made her stomach twist.
She thought about what Tamara had said. She paused.
Then, as Emma twitched like she was about to lift her bag onto her shoulder, Regina heard herself blurt out, "How about it, then?"
Emma frowned. "How about what?"
"That drink," Regina said, nodding to the hidden painting. "I'm… free. Now. If you want."
Emma's mouth actually popped open, and it took every ounce of self-restraint for Regina not to step forward and press her own against it.
"Right now?"
"If you're not busy," Regina shrugged, trying to look casual. Her hands were fisted in the pockets of her robe so that Emma couldn't see them fidgeting.
"No!" Emma spluttered, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "I mean – no, I'm not busy. I'd love to."
"Great," Regina shook with relief. "Can you wait five minutes? I just need to go put some clothes on."
She grimaced once she realised how those words had sounded coming out of her mouth, but luckily Emma just smiled. As Regina hurried off into the back office, Emma couldn't help but watch her go.
"Get yourself under control, Swan," a voice said from behind her. Emma turned to glare at Eugenia.
"Shut up."
"If you break her heart and she refuses to come back, I'll kick you out of the class," Eugenia continued coolly. "Although I'm not sure anything would stop her. She's not even being paid for this anymore."
Emma's eyebrows shot up. "She's not?"
"Nope. She decided to forgo payment in exchange for getting a regular slot."
Struggling not to crash to the floor at that news, Emma turned for the door with an enormous grin on her face. "See you next week, Granny Lucas."
"Watch it," Eugenia replied. "I'll tell her you're waiting outside. And maybe run a brush through that mane if you want her fingers anywhere near it."