NEW FEELINGS

CHAPTER4

A week passed. Then two.

Matilda saw Stella in the hallways, in the cafeteria, in the brief intersections of school life. They nodded at each other. Sometimes Stella would smile at her, a private known smile. But she never approached her, never spoke more than a brief hello. She kept replaying what happened in the studio that morning.

The sketch stayed hidden in her room, tucked between the mattress and box spring where no one would find it.She didn't look at it often. Didn't need to. It lived behind her eyes, Stella in the sunlight and asking to be seen.

On a Tuesday afternoon, three weeks after the transfer student arrived, Matilda stayed late in the art studio. Mr. Vince had given her a key, a rare privilage and she often worked alone late into the evening, when the light turned gray. She was struggling with a self-portrait, something she had never attempted before, and the face on the canvas refused to resolve into something recognizable.

The door opened gently. Matilda turned, heart leaping, there she was. Stella, in a long, black coat against the October chill, her dark hair packed in a loose ponytail. She looked different in the evening fading light, maybe a little younger.

" I saw the light," Stella said. "Hope it's okay I came by."

Matilda's voice failed her. She nodded.

Stella walked in slowly, looking at the easels, the half-finished paintings, the clutter of brushes and tubes. She stopped in front of Matilda,s self portrait and studied it for a long moment, before she finally said " It doesn't look like you.''

" I know."

" Can i show you something," stella tuned to face her.

Matilda nodded, not trusting herself to speak properly.

Stella reached into her bag and pulled out a sketchbook. Not a new one, but a worn out one with rough edges. She held it out and Matilda took it . She opened it, and forgot how to breath

The first page was her, Matilda from a back view, sittin g at her easel in this very room. The angle of her shoulders were prefect, the way she leaned forward, the fall of her hair. The next page was her side profile, caught in a sharp light, her concentration visible in every line. Page after page, contained a new view of her, her hands holding a brush, her feet crossed at her ankle under a stool, the back of her head with strands of hair escaping her ponytail, her chest in a fitted top as she leaned down.

" You watched me." Matilda whispered.

" I looked.'' Stella corrected softly. "You taught me the difference."

Matilda turned the page carefully and softly, seeing herself through Stella's eyes. There was something overwhelming about being seen so completely, so carefully. No one had ever looked at her like she was worth capturing.

The last page was empty except a few lines a the top, giving her shoulder.

' I want to finish it." Stella said. Her voice was steady, but her hand were not and Matilda noticed, the way they were trembling slightly. " But i need you to model for me. Properly. The way I modeled for you."

The words hung in the air between them. Matilda understood what she was asking. Understood it in her bones, in the sudden heat that spread through her chest and stomach and lower.

" Here?" Matilda voice cracked.

'' Here. Now." Stella stepped closer. " If you want to. If you trust me."

Matida thought of all those sketchbook hidden in her room. All those anonymous women, all that longing she'd never named. She thought of standing in front of someone the way Stella, so vulnerable, exposed, but powerful and seen, just the way stella had done for her.

" I trust you." She said.

The words surprised her. But as soon as she said them, she knew they were true.

Stella's expression shifted to something of relief and something deeper. " Okay," She said quietly.

She moved to the windows, adjusting the blinds, softening the light until it feel in warm bands across the floor. Then she pulled a stool to the center of the room, postioning carefully. When she was done, she looked at Matilda and waited.

Matilda's hands went to the hem of her shirt. She paused there, suddenly terrified.

" Do you want me to-". Stella started.

" No.'' Matilda shook her head. " I want to. I just have never really done this before. Been looked at. Really looked at.'

Stella's voice was gentle." Then let me be the first.''

Something in those words'first' gave Matilda courage. She pulled her shirt over her head. Then her bra, fumbling with the clasp, her fingers clumsy. She stepped out of her jeans, her underwear, until she stood naked in the dim golden light, her arms crossed over her chest, her whole body trembling.

Stella just looked at her. Not in the way that made Matilda feel exposed, but in a way that made her feel seen. The same way Matilda had looked at her those weeks ago. Honoring.

"Beautiful," Stella breathed."Sit for me. However you are comfortable.''

Matildamoved to the stool. She sat sideways at first, Half-turned, one leg bent, her arms still wrapped around herself.Stella picked up the pencil and began to draw, and the drawing sounds was the only noise in the room.

Minutes passed.Matilda's nerves slowly unwound. Stella's focus was absolute, her eyes moving from Matilda to the page and back, and there was nothing hungry in it or if there was, it was a hunger of accuracy, for the real shape of her.

"Can you turn towards me?" Stella asked."Just a little. Let the light hit your chest."

Matilda shifted, heart pounding. Her breast were fully visible now, her n*****s tightening in the cool air. She forced herself to sdtay still, to let Stella look.

Stella's hands moved faster as she drawed. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, her lips slightly parted. She looked the way Matilda felt when she was drawing, consumed by it, alive in it.

" I see you. I see all of you." Stella murmured, almost to herself.

Matilda thought of all those years of looking without letting herself be looked at. A light she hadn't known she'd been missing. All those years without naming what she wanted.

"You're crying."

Matilda touched her cheek and found it wet. She hadn't noticed. " I'm okay,"She said. '' Keep going. Please."

Stella kept going. She drew the curve of Matilda's throat, the slope of her breasts, the soft swell of her belly. She drew the way her belly swell softly. She drew the way her hand rested on her thighs, fingers curled. She drew the vulnerability in her face, the openness, the trust. When she finally set down her pencil, the light in the room was now a deep gold, almost orange. She crossed the room and knelt in front of Matilda, just close enough but not touching

"Thank you. For letting me see you."She said.

Matilda looked at her, like really looked at her and saw the same rawness in Stella's face that she felt in her own chest. This wasn't just a drawing, it was something else. Something that had passed between them in the silence, the light, in the lines of the drawing.

" I want you to touch me," Matilda whispered.

Stella's eyes widened. " Are you sure?"

Instead of answering, Matilda reached out and took Stella's hands. She brought it to her own chest, pressing those long fingers flat against her sternum, over her heart. Stella's hands were warm and Matilda could feel her own pulse jumping under the palm.

'' Here," Matilda said."Feel."

Stella's hand moved slowly, spreading outward until it cupped Matilda breast. Her thumb traced the curve of it, Feather light and Matilda's breath caught. Then her other hand rose, finging Matilda waist, her hip, the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

Matilda's head fell back, her eyes close. She felt everything, the warmth of Stella's palms, the slight roughness of the fingertips, the way her palms seemed to ask premission at every moment. So gentle, like Matilda was something precious.

"i've never-''Matilda started, then stopped.

''Neither have I,"Stella whispered.''Not like this.''

Her hands moving, learning the geography of Matilda's body. The dip of her waist. The flare of the hip. The soft inside of her arm. The curve of her ribs. She touched like she was a drawing, so carefully.

When her hands finally settled between Matilda's thighs, Matilda gasped. Her whole body tightened, then relaxed, then tightened again. Stella's eyes meet hers, asking, and Matida nodded.

What happened next was slow, quiet and overwhelming. Stella's fingers were gentle, exploring, learning.Matilda's hands found Stella's shoulders, then her hair, then her face. She kissed her, finally and Stella tasted like tears and salt and something sweet underneath.

After, they lay together on the old rug in the corner of the studio, tangled in each other and in the coats Stella had pulled down to cover them. The light from outside was almost gone. The room was now dark and warm and just theirs.

"I've never let anyone see me like that," Matilda said into Stella shoulder. "Never let anyone draw me."

Stella's hands traced slow circles on her back."I've never drawn anyone like you."

There were quiet for a long time. Outside, the school emptied. The world continued, indifferent to what had happened in the room. But inside Matilda, something had shifted permanently. She had finally been seen. She had been touched like never before. She had been drawn, in every sense of the word. And she could never be the same again.

" We should do this again,' Stella murmured softly."Draw each other I mean."

Matilda smiled in the darkness."Yeah. We should."

She didn't add what see was think, that they had drawn more than just lined tonight. They had drawn something new into existence, something that had both their names on it and something they could both feel deep within their souls.

But maybe they couldn't name it but they didn't need to. Maybe Stella already knew and could understand what they both shared today.