Bruce slipped into the art studio, shifting nervously as he made his way to the center of the room. He had just gotten back from working out and rushed to get dressed and clean before heading over to the studio.

Placing his bag down, he looked around in slight awe of the place. It was filled with different sketches, each more detailed than the other. Big ones, small ones, covered the walls from floor to ceiling, various oil paintings were placed around, some unfinished, but could place the masters of art to shame.

“You made it.” Bruce jumped in shock when your voice brought him from his trance, making him whirl around to face you. “Oh uh…yeah.” He watched as you closed the door behind you and made your way to what looked to be the biggest easel he had ever seen.

He had agreed to be your model for your art classes that semester. And today was the day the drawings would begin. It felt strange, being looked at so intently. In all four years of university, he hadn’t been looked at, studied so intently by someone. And then you came along, in both of your senior year, asking if he could be your model for that year’s art classes.