Rikki by Abigail Strom

Author:Abigail Strom [Strom, Abigail]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: college, young adult, contemporary romance, new adult, Abigail Strom, college romance, Hart University, new adult romance, teen, teen romance, young adult romance, Rikki
Published: 2015-09-20T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Tuesday afternoon was my next session in the art studio, and I was putting on my bathing suit and congratulating myself on how comfortable I felt with this whole thing now when my phone rang.

It was Sam. “I have a favor to ask you.”

“Shoot.”

“Okay, so… you know how I hit a rough patch last time?”

“My hips? Sure, I remember.”

“Well, I’m going to be working there again today, and on your stomach, and—”

“If you want me to develop washboard abs by four o’clock you’re out of luck.”

“Will you cut that out? Your stomach is perfect.”

First my hips, now my stomach. I was starting to like this whole modeling thing.

“Okay¸ then, what’s the favor?”

“It’s just… your bathing suit. It’s a one-piece, and it kind of… it doesn’t… conform to your body exactly.”

“What do you mean? Of course it conforms to my body.”

“Not exactly. Where you’re curved, for example, it kind of… stretches from curve to curve instead of following the line of your body. Not a lot, or anything, but—”

“I’m not going nude, Sam. Not unless you go nude too.”

“I’m not saying nude. I’m just wondering if maybe you have a two-piece bathing suit? Just while I’m working on your stomach and, uh, torso area.”

I didn’t have a two-piece, and I was about to say so when I thought of something.

“I might be able to figure something out. See you at four.”

“Okay. Thanks, Rikki.”

I didn’t have a bikini, but I did have bra and panty sets. Wasn’t that like a bikini, at least in terms of skin coverage? And I could bring my one-piece as a backup in case it was too embarrassing to pose in my underwear in front of Sam.

It shouldn’t be embarrassing, I reminded myself. We were just friends. He was with Mena. And it was all for the sake of art.

Maybe if I kept on repeating those things, I could drown out the voice inside my head—the one telling me this was my chance to make Sam Payne eat his words.

If you model for me, it’ll just be about the sculpture. I won’t be distracted by anything else.

Go ahead, the voice whispered. Distract the crap out of him.

The question was, which bra and panty set? Whichever one was most like a bikini, probably. Plain cotton in some dark color, blue or black or—

I’d been rooting around in my underwear drawer, and now I paused. There at the bottom was my graduation gift from Sharon. Our present to each other had been to go into a fancy lingerie store, the kind where they measure you to make sure you really do know your correct bra size, and buy each other whatever we wanted.

Sharon had bought me this.

It was so perfect and beautiful I hadn’t even worn it yet. The tag was still on, attached by a tiny gold safety pin.

It was beige lace and fit me perfectly. The color was so near to my natural skin tone that was as close to wearing nothing as I could get.

Which would be ideal for an art modeling situation.

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