Practice at home

Alex kept looking at the drawing for another long moment, then lifted his eyes to hers.

“You need more practice?” he asked, voice casual but quieter than usual. “I mean… if you want someone to sit for you. Right now. While the house is empty.”

Bella’s pulse jumped. She studied his face, searching for any trace of joking. There wasn’t much.

“You’d actually do that?”

He shrugged, but the movement was a little too controlled. “You’re good. And it’s just drawing, right? Unless you decide it’s not.” A small, crooked smile. “Your call.”

She hesitated only a second, then nodded. “Okay. Now.”

Alex stood. Bella turned her back to give him privacy, heart already beating faster. She heard the soft sounds of clothes being pulled off: shirt, jeans, the quiet drop of fabric to the floor. When he spoke again his voice was closer.

“Ready.”

She turned around.

Alex stood in the middle of the living room wearing nothing but a small white towel held loosely in front of his hips, covering just enough. His body was leaner than Julian’s, but solid in a different way; long limbs, defined arms from years of carrying heavy bags and sitting too long at desks, a flat stomach, and the clear shape of his thighs. The towel was already tented slightly where his hand held it.

Bella swallowed and pointed to the couch. “Sit however’s comfortable. Same kind of pose if you can.”

He settled back against the cushions, one arm along the backrest, legs parted just enough. The towel stayed in place, but the fabric had shifted, hinting at the outline beneath.

Bella sat on the floor with her sketchpad propped on her knees and began to draw. Charcoal whispered across the paper. For a while they were quiet, the only sounds the soft scratch of her strokes and the occasional creak of the house.

“You’re staring pretty hard, Bella” Alex said after a few minutes, voice low and almost amused.

“I’m supposed to,” she answered without looking up. “That’s the point.”

“Feels different when it’s just us.”

Bella’s charcoal paused for half a second. “It does.” She glanced up, met his eyes, then returned to the page. “You’re warmer than the studio model. More… real.”

Alex shifted slightly. The towel moved with him. “You’re blushing again.”

“So are you.”

A soft huff of laughter from him. “Fair.”

She kept drawing the line of his collarbone, the slope of his shoulder, the way the afternoon light caught on his skin. Every so often their eyes met and held a little longer than necessary.

“You can tell me if the towel’s annoying,” he said eventually, softer now. “Or if you want it lower. For accuracy.”

Bella’s hand stilled. She looked at him properly this time, letting her gaze drop briefly to where the fabric was stretched.

“Maybe a little lower,” she said, matching his quiet tone. “If you’re okay with it.”

Alex’s fingers tightened on the towel, then slowly eased it down an inch or two, enough to show more of the sharp V of his hips and the dark trail of hair, but still covering the rest. The air between them felt thicker.

“Better?” he asked.

Bella’s voice came out almost a whisper. “Yeah. Better.”

She returned to the drawing, but the lines were slower now, more deliberate. Every few strokes she looked up and found him watching her in return, the teasing between them soft, careful, and steadily growing warmer.