Covered In Ink

Chapter 33|Why am I not wearing a shirt?

"I need to get my confidence back," He replied, swinging his arms back and forth to warm up his muscles as he headed to change his clothes. He turned around, throwing me a cheeky grin. "I'll tell Hamish not to aim for the money maker." He circled his face with his finger.

I rolled my eyes, flopping onto the ground. I opened up my sketchbook, my new sketchbook. I hadn't used it before, and it made the most satisfying sound when I opened it. You know when sometimes you open a hardcover and it makes this...crackling noise? Not like 'holy shit I broke it' crackling, but the sound the spine and pages make. And the pages, don't even get me started. I could smell the new book smell before the pages were even anywhere near my face. The pages just smelt like hippy dust of peace and happiness had been sprinkled onto them and then the book had been shut and left to marinate.

"Are you...sniffing that book?" Came a voice from behind me.

"Yes." No point denying it. There was no way I could lie my way out of that one.

Hamish sat on the ground next to me. "Why are you sniffing that book." He was looking at me like I was high. Maybe I was high on new book smell.

"Because it smells good." I thrust it in his direction. "See?"

He jerked his head backwards to avoid being face booked. Get it, face booked? Haha I'm hilarious.

Hamish shook his head. "I think you get weirder every time I see you."

I rolled my eyes, watching as Ryan reentered the room. I was slightly disappointed to see that he was wearing a shirt. He walked over to the ring and sat on the edge of it, attempting to put on his gloves. Hamish stood up to go and help him. I grabbed his shirt before he could leave.

"What is it?" He asked, crouching down so that he was at my eye level.

"Just...go easy on him okay," I said in a hushed voice. I didn't want Ryan to hear.

He chuckled. "Don't worry, H, I won't hurt your boyfriend."

"I'm serious Hamish, he's not himself. Promise me that you won't offer him any fights that you know he doesn't stand a chance in because he will fight, and he'll get himself killed. He's stubborn."

"Yeah that's an understatement," he muttered under his breath.

I elbowed him in the gut. "Promise me."

He held up his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine I promise."

I nodded, and he headed over to Ryan.

I watched them closely throughout the session, relieved to see that most of the drills were on technique and fitness, and nobody else fists were coming into contact with him.

I took my eyes off them for a while, opening my sketchbook again. I took my pencil out of my pocket and smiled at Caleb's name on the side. I pondered over what to draw, I mean, it was the first page so it had to be something memorable. Then I looked up and grinned. What's better than a live model? Better yet a hot one. I'll tell you, it was difficult, partly because he kept moving. That was a pain in my ass, and occasionally (every three minutes) I would get distracted by his excellent genetics and stare.

My pencil scratched the paper, drawing rough lines, and then more defined ones. Eventually it started looking like him. I'll tell you something funny. I'd drawn him shirtless. I hadn't meant to, he was wearing a shirt after all, I guess I just had a sexy imagination.

I still wasn't finished my sketch an hour and a half later when they finally stepped out of the ring. I stood up, stretching my legs which were cramped from sitting cross legged for so long. Ryan came up behind me, wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on the top of my head.