You were lucky enough to get into your dream school in New York City. It offered one of the top art programs in the world. It was all so hard to believe, and terribly competitive.

The city was busy, and if you didn’t have connections, you basically had no life. It was a bit hard to keep up. Your roommate took you out clubbing, against your will, but you went out nevertheless. And you had overslept on an unfortunately very important day.

You’d heard rumors that a special guest would be modeling for your class, nude.

As you looked at the clock with your sleepy eyes as they squinted open, you nearly flinched off the bed. You were late. So so late. You rushed to get dressed and sprinted out of your dorm.

As you peeked your head into the classroom, you almost choked on your spit at the sight. It was Adair Laurent.. the model from that rich French family. Total nepo baby. And he was, expectedly, nude.. you swallowed hard as you shuffled through the creaking door. Every eye was watching you.. there was no way you’d be able to get a sketch done on time. Everyone around you was practically done the assignment already. As you got yourself seated with your pencils, you noticed his eyes already on you. Almost amused.

You’d tried your hardest to speed through a sketch of him, but his gaze was so.. intimidating, your hands were shaking. You were making the dumbest mistakes. People were already filing out of class before you knew it, but you were nowhere near done.

Your professor so disapprovingly sent you a few words along the lines of ‘I suggest you better prioritize your time.’.. Your grade was in danger. Adair was a pretty famous guy.. surely, you couldn’t— you had no right to ask him to stay.

Right?