Harry Styles Shorts and One Shots

Bloodlust 3 **

18+ only

Word Count: 12,400 (I'm unhinged)

Adelaide

"Good morning," Mrs. Evans beams as we all settle down in front of our easels. "Who can tell me what the biggest organ of the human body is?"

A few people raise their hands, my eyes shifting around to them.

"The skin," one of the students answers.

"Yes, the skin. Everyone has a different shade, texture, and glow about their skin. What I want us to focus on today, is trying to color match our each individual skin tones." Her eyes scan the room. "Also, next week's model will be displaying their skin for us."

My brows push together. No, she doesn't mean...?

"Next week, our model will be completely nude."

Excited chatter erupts in the classroom and I look to my blank canvas, already trying to plan out which shades I need for my skin to distract me from the mention of nudity. It's been a long time since I've seen someone fully naked, and I hate that that person was Sam.

Mrs. Evans holds up her plastic fishbowl with our names in it, shaking it about. "Now, I completely understand if you aren't comfortable being a model if you're chosen. Absolutely no pressure in saying 'yes' if you're picked."

I glance down to my arm, flipping it to view the lighter shade on the inside of my forearm. Maybe I could paint my arm from an angle, capturing both different shades on the outside and in—

"Adelaide," Mrs. Evans calls, everyone turning to gawk at me.

My eyes shoot around, unsure of what everyone is staring at.

"Yes?" I reply.

"Will you be our model next week?"

Oh, shit.

My body wiggles uncomfortably, a hard lump forming in my throat. "For the nude painting?"

She nods, every single set of eyes in the room not faltering from mine. I realize that I've began to sweat, going to open my mouth to say no, but Harry's taunting voice telling me I have no confidence rings in my ears.

"Yes," I say firmly after a minute, everyone turning back to. Mrs. Evans.

"Wonderful," she claps her hands together. "You will be our model on Tuesday."

I cringe. "Oh, actually, I can't be here on Tuesdays. I'm a caretaker now, and can only be in class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays."

Her brows wiggle, looking down to her watch as if she's thinking. "Well, I suppose someone else could do it, then."

"No," I reply quickly. "What if we held the painting where I'm staying? The place is massive and could easily fit everyone. They even have a bathhouse with perfect lighting."

"A bathhouse?" someone asks excitedly. "I've never seen one except in old movies."

"It's amazing," I smile lightly, remembering the domed ceiling.

Mrs. Evans shifts, looking uncomfortable. "I don't know, Addie. I'd need permission from the owner."

"I can get you signed permission by Monday."

"A bathhouse painting would be perfect," a student adds, Mrs. Evans still looking uneasy.

"Okay," she nods.

A few triumphant, excited yeses ring about the room. I know Harry strictly informed me to not bring anybody over if I can avoid it, but he's an asshole, and I want to prove to him that I don't lack self confidence, even though I majorly do. But he's not allowed to tell me that.