It's a dangerous game

BLAIR’S POV

I puffed a cigarette, the almost-forgotten-but-desperately-missed feeling of smoke filling my lungs, taking over my senses. I even let out a sigh of relief the moment the nicotine hit.

God I missed it.

"I think I'm a bad influence on you, Blair." Maddox chuckled, getting comfortable on his chair at the bistro.

I had asked him for a cigarette the moment we stepped out of Durham, as we walked down the street to our usual lunch spot. Of course he wasn't the reason why I caved, but it was better if he believed he was.

I don't think I would be able to explain to him what happened, or more importantly, why it happened.

I kissed my professor. Dr Reynolds kissed me back, hard. We kissed like we had been battling our desires and we lost the fight. We gave in.

I had never loved a fellow male before — never even thought I could — but in that moment, it made my chest twist in ways I couldn’t name. There was something thrilling about this forbidden attraction, about seeing what it felt like to want a man this way.

I took a long drag of my cigarette. How I wish the smoke could fog up my thoughts. At least it relaxed me.

As we waited for our food, Maddox talked about something, but my mind was too busy replaying the events following the kiss.

I can't get you out of my head. That's what he said. Then, just as quickly as those words came out of his mouth, he turned away from me and walked to his desk, got his stuff, and casually said "I'll see you next class" as if nothing had happened.

That fucker just loved playing with my head and it was driving me insane.

What was I expecting anyway? That he'd kiss me again, say he felt the same way? Have feelings for his student? Of course not. What we did was a mistake, a very enjoyable mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. He probably just told me he couldn't get me out of his head to justify why he had kissed me back.

Even while eating I longed for a cigarette, as if the smoke made it easier to conceal my true emotions. I was afraid Maddox would see right through me, that he'd sense I had just kissed the most forbidden person on the planet.

"So, anyway, what are your plans for the rest of the day?" he asked. "I was planning on doing a bit of sculpting? Wanna join? I kinda need a hand model."

"You need a hand model?" I asked, amused. What a weird request.

"Please! It's for an assignment on human anatomy. We have to get it absolutely perfect, to the inch! It's impossible to do it with photographs, I need to see movement, to visualise dimensions and 3D shapes."

I took a big bite of my sandwich. While I chewed, I thought about his proposition.

"And what would be my... compensation for modelling?" I asked, smirking. I couldn't possibly take his money, but it was fun to see his reaction.

"Well, since I'm a broke ass college student, when I'm finished with the assignment you can keep the sculpture. Use it as a rings display or something."

It was a done deal. How many people could say they had a stone sculpture of any part of their body?

After lunch we headed back to Durham, to the art studios. We entered a special room where all the sculpting took place. You had to wear a filtering mask to be inside or you'd get white dust up your nose and mouth from all the chipping. Luckily, no one was there at that time, so we played loud music on our phones.

"Put your hand like this, like a ballet dancer. I'll be able to show movement, like your hand is frozen in time."

I wasn't expecting to like it so much. Even though I had to stay still for a long time, Maddox was excellent at conversation. He told me more about his life, his dreams, what he wanted to do after college, projects he had been involved in, pieces he had made in the past. I also got a feel as to who he was as an artist. He was precise, but not a perfectionist. He aimed for realistic work, but wasn't afraid to go outside the box and be creative.

Since I was in charge of the music selection, I was with Maddox's phone in my hand most of the time. When he received a message he asked me to read it aloud. When I opened his messages, I noticed a surprising contact.

Professor Reynolds?

I opened the text immediately:

MADDOX: just got homee safely. hetanks so muwch for helpinjg Blair.

PROF. REYNOLDS: Thanks for letting me know. Blair is doing fine.

My eyes widened in surprise. Maddox hadn't told me Dr Reynolds had given him his number. Maybe he had forgotten he had it in the first place given how drunk he was that night.

Without Maddox noticing, I pulled out my phone and copied the number.

I left Durham at around 7 P.M. Before making my way home, I leaned against the university's gate, lighting a cigarette. It was already dark, the orange light from the lampposts illuminating the sidewalk.

"Destroying your lungs, I see."

I jumped, almost dropping the cigarette on the floor. I turned towards the voice, my heart stopping. Dr Reynolds was wearing a coat over his usual suit, his glasses reflecting the lights of the incoming traffic. He was carrying a heavy folder, no doubt heading to his car after a long day of work.

I had never loved a fellow male before never even been curious but with him, the urge to push the line was irresistible. I wanted to flirt, to test the pull between us, to see what it might feel like to be gay, even if only for this moment.

"Just living up to my moody, French painter stereotype." I replied. He chuckled. Was it wrong to love his raspy, deep laugh?

"You look a bit disheveled." He commented. He probably was referring to the white dust all over my clothes and hair from the plaster Maddox had sculpted. I took a drag.

"Well, if you knew what I've been up to today, you wouldn't be so surprised."

There was silence between us, people walking in and out of Durham, strolling past us. He knew damn well what I was referring to, but chose to ignore it.

"I didn't know you smoked." He continued. "Wanting to mask the taste of something or just keeping your mouth busy?"

I gasped. Did he just insinuate what I think he insinuated?

"Seems like you've given some thought to my mouth, Professor." I said cockily. "There's a lot of things this mouth can do you don't know, Sir."

He looked at the ground, hiding a smirk. I had to admit, I was feeling proud of myself for standing my ground and not allowing myself to melt at the sight of him.

"Such a flirt, Mr De Montmorency. What has gotten into you today?"

I swallowed, parting my lips before I spoke. "You tell me, Felix, or is that name reserved for your apartment?"

He didn't break his eye contact, challenging me. Neither did I. With my cheeks surely red and my heart beating at a worrying rate, he reached for the cigarette lodged in between my lips. Still looking into my eyes, he took my cigarette to his mouth and took a drag.

"This is a dangerous game." He said, the shadow patterns of the trees concealing parts of his face.

"Which you clearly want to play."

He finished the cigarette, putting it out on the ground with his foot.

"I was thinking of being nice to you, but your behavior just now can't go unscathed. Today you're walking, Mr De Montmorency."

My stomach flipped. Was he really thinking of giving me a ride home in the first place, or was he just pretending so he could have something to punish me with?

Without giving me a chance to reply, he turned away.

That was his favourite move apparently.

"Oh and Blair, one more thing." He spun around. "Go check your e-mail. I'll see you tomorrow."

E-mail?

I pulled out my phone as I made my way down the street in the direction of my apartment. I opened the e-mail app. As expected, an unread e-mail was in my inbox from none other than Dr Reynolds.

"Dear students,

As you know, it isn't uncommon to have reputed and highly regarded artists seeking assistance from Durham's art students. That being said, a colleague and good friend of mine, Gary Kent (some of you might have even attended his exhibition at the Kingston Museum) is looking for two helpers for his upcoming project.

I must remind you that this is an excellent opportunity to learn from a great mentor and gain some experience in the field. Although this help will not count as extra credit for your Masters degree, it will certainly enrich it.

Mr Kent will be entirely responsible for the selection process. When conducting the interviews, you can ask him any questions you may have regarding the nature of the job, hours required, letters of recommendation, etcetera. If you are interested, e-mail me stating so.

Dr Reynolds."

My eyes sparkled as I read the e-mail. A chance to start working, even if volunteering, with a professional artist, especially one that I actually knew in person and liked? Now that was an opportunity I couldn't resist.

As I typed an e-mail response and sent it, I remembered I had Dr Reynolds's number on my phone. I bit my lip, debating whether or not I should use it.

Fuck it.

BLAIR: Just wanted to let you know that I'm interested in working with Mr Kent.

I threw my phone on my bed as soon as I hit send. I paced back and forth the next few minutes until my phone came to life with the notification of a message. My hands were shaking as I picked it up.

DR REYNOLDS: Who is this?

BLAIR: As if you didn't know. I waited. How painful it was to wait.

DR REYNOLDS: How did you get my number, Mr De Montmorency?

BLAIR: You gave it to my friend Maddox, remember? The other drunk boy you helped that night.

DR REYNOLDS: The other boy as in "other than you"?

I smiled. Even through text he loved teasing me. Well, I could tease right back.

BLAIR: Good night, Professor Reynolds.

He didn't respond to the last text. Not thinking too much of it, I went to the kitchen to get dinner started. After all, it was already a quarter to eight. I had taken on that role in the house since I was the most qualified and actually enjoyed cooking. I made beef with roast potatoes in the pressure cooker, wanting to get the meat melting off the bone. While I was cooking, I completely forgot about my phone, only checking it a few hours later before going to bed at around midnight.

I had received a text at 11:48.

DR REYNOLDS: Good night, Blair.