Chapter 7: ● S I X | Colors ●

† Q U I N N †

They say life is beautiful in all its colors, even the darker shades—they're all there for a reason. So when someone shows you their true colors, don't try to repaint them. For many, a world without hue is a world without life. Just like a flame brings light, light brings color. And just as intonation gives depth to words, color gives a soul to shapes. When you reduce life to just black and white, you miss out on the rainbows.

Maybe that's why I feel almost dead inside—because, deep down, I only ever crave one color.

I hurried toward the Arts Building, realizing I was running late for my Arts and Humanities class. I really didn't want to go, but I've already missed two classes, and today was my first time showing up. If I want to graduate this year, I need to get my shit together. I was still groggy and exhausted, but I didn't have a choice. Damn, Ashley had worn me out last night—my latest hookup. These girls can't seem to find someone decent to handle their needs, so they settle for random flings. But hey, I'm happy to take advantage of their desire.

"There, Room 312." I muttered, catching my breath as I realized I was already five minutes late. I grabbed the door and swung it open, only to be met with a surprise—this wasn't Professor Jackson.

The woman standing behind the desk looked to be in her 30s, with a white button-down shirt and a black pencil skirt. Her long black hair framed a face with sultry eyes that reminded me of Megan Fox in Transformers. Definitely hot. "I'm sorry, I'm–"

"Late. I can see that," she cut me off, eyes fixed on me as I tried to catch my breath. "Are you just going to stand there? Grab a seat; we're just getting started." A slight smirk played at the corner of her lips.

I stepped inside, finally breaking the stare, and scanned the room for an open seat. Then I spotted a familiar face—those unmistakable emerald green eyes, which met mine for a split second before quickly looking away. I moved down the aisle, deciding to take a seat by the window, in the middle row.

"As I was saying before your colleague's grand entrance," she said, glancing back at me with an arched brow, "I will be Professor Jackson's substitute while she recovers from surgery. I'm Professor Selena Brown." She flashed a smile that seemed even more seductive up close.

For whatever reason, I decided to play along. I met her gaze and raised an eyebrow, brushing my index finger across my lips as I rolled my tongue inside my cheek. I could already tell I was going to enjoy this class—probably more than I should.

I settled back in my seat, thinking, Yeah, I might just enjoy this course after all.

Professor Brown started by asking everyone to fill out an online form—a student profile for her class records. It had a bunch of questions, most of them pointless, in my opinion. "What's your favorite hobby? Define art. What's your favorite color? Which artwork would best describe you?" I rolled my eyes. Are these questions even necessary? I ended up only filling in my name and answering one question before hitting submit. With a sigh, I leaned back in my chair and turned my gaze toward the window.

"Quinn Grey," I heard my name, snapping me back to reality. Wait, is class already starting? How long was I zoning out? I glanced up to see Professor Brown, arms crossed, staring at me with an expectant look.

"Care to share your answers like the rest of the class?" she asked, her tone calm but with a challenging edge.

I sat up straight, trying to buy a moment to gather my thoughts. "I can't think of any answers, ma'am," I replied, putting a little extra emphasis on ma'am. Truthfully, I had no idea what the question was—I'd been too lost in my own head to notice.

† C H L O E †

Color is an intense experience on its own. It's not just something we see; it can really change how we feel and think. Each color has its own unique personality and can stir up strong emotions inside us. For instance, bright colors like yellow can fill us with happiness and energy, while darker colors like blue can make us feel calm or even a little sad.

When we look at colors, our brains respond in ways that can shift our mood or bring back memories from our past. That's one of the reasons I love art so much. Art challenges us to think deeply about the messages portrayed on the canvas. Everyone sees art differently, and that's what excites me the most—hearing how others interpret the same piece in their own unique way. It's like having a conversation without words, and every viewpoint adds a new layer to the experience.

A new professor walked into our classroom and set her bag down on the desk. I guessed she was filling in for poor Professor Jackson, who had recently had an accident. I was eager for the class to begin when, suddenly, the door swung open, and there she was—someone I never expected to see in this class—Quinn. "She's taking the art class too?" my mind shouted in disbelief.

Memories of our last conversation flooded back, sending a chill down my spine. I couldn't shake off the image of her intense, mocking, and flirty gaze from that moment in the bathroom, or the thought of how she had harmed those women by tearing the delicate skin on their necks. I froze at the sight of her, and when our eyes met, I quickly looked away, breaking the contact before it could linger.

"One word that describes art for you," Professor Brown said, looking directly at Quinn and waiting for her response. But Quinn remained silent for a moment. "You haven't answered most of the questions on the online form, aside from your favorite color, Miss Grey. Care to share your thoughts? Your classmates said art is dynamic, timeless, serene, majesti–"

"Esoteric," Quinn interjected, her voice rising slightly, catching my attention. She crossed her arms defiantly as she locked her gaze on Professor Brown.

"Indeed, I couldn't agree more. Art isn't for everyone. Not everybody understands it," Professor Brown replied with a chuckle, her eyes twinkling as they stayed focused on Quinn, almost flirtatiously. "And which artwork would you say best describes you, Miss Grey?"

Quinn chuckled softly before answering. "I guess I would say Black Iris by Georgia O'Keeffe." A wide grin spread across her face. Professor Brown tried to stifle her laughter but couldn't help a small giggle when she heard Quinn's answer. She reached for her laptop and typed something, and soon the image of the painting appeared on the board, projected for the whole class to see.

"And why would you say that this is the best art that describes you, Quinn Grey?" Professor Brown asked, emphasizing Quinn's name while staring intently at her, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. She's clearly flirting with her, I thought, rolling my eyes at the interaction.

"I fancy flowers, ma'am. And this particular art turns me on," Quinn replied with a cheeky grin. The room erupted with laughter at her bold response, the atmosphere lightening as everyone reacted to her unexpected honesty.

"Alright then, Quinn. Go ahead and take a seat," Professor Brown said, her gaze playfully lingering on Quinn for a moment before she turned back to the class. "Next week, each of you will reveal a bit of yourselves through art. But here's the twist—you'll be limited to just three colors: black, white, and one more that I'll assign to you personally. I want you to show me who you are and express your emotions, even with these constraints. Think creatively and push your limits with what you have."

I walked down the hallway toward the cafeteria when it hit me that I left my medical textbook in Room 312. "Damn it! I'm starving already." Frustrated, I turned around to retrieve the book I had left under my seat. As I approached the door, I noticed Professor Brown stepping out of the classroom, heading in the opposite direction. I hurriedly opened the door, eager to make it to the cafeteria for lunch, but then I suddenly bumped into someone.

"Shit!" my mind screamed when I realized it was Quinn, who was about to leave the room. A smirk played on her lips as she stared at me with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine. I hadn't noticed before how striking her grey eyes were; it was the first time I really looked into them.

Suddenly, she hummed softly, jolting me back to my senses. I quickly stepped aside to enter the room and grab my textbook, only to hear her close the door behind me. I snatched the book and turned to leave, only to be startled to find that she was still there, leaning against the door.

I thought she left, I thought, my heart racing once again.

I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself, and paced toward the door. "Excuse me. I need to go out," I said, forcing a brave face, trying to sound almost intimidating.

"Sure, go ahead, gorgeous," Quinn replied, still leaning against the door and blocking the knob with her body.

"You're leaning on the door. You're blocking the way," I said, raising an eyebrow and giving her a fierce stare.

"You can just slip your hand and grab what you need to," she smirked, clearly enjoying this little game. I sighed loudly, keeping my eyes locked on hers as I crossed my arms, refusing to back down.

To my surprise, she suddenly walked toward me, her hand resting on my waist. I stepped back, retreating until my back hit the teacher's desk. "What the hell, Quinn!" I exclaimed, my voice louder than intended.

"You still intrigue me, gorgeous, you know?" she said, raising an eyebrow and flashing a smirk that sent my heart racing.

"Like I said, over my dead body, Quinn Grey." I tried to mask the tremor in my voice by speaking a little louder. I wasn't about to let her think I was scared.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you," Quinn said, her voice low and teasing. Her one hand lingered on my waist, while the other began to explore my jawline, her fingers trailing softly down to my neck. A shiver ran down my spine as her fingers brushed gently against my skin.  As if that wasn't enough, her hand on my waist slipped lower, moving closer to my thigh, playfully toying with the hem of my short dress. My breath quickened, and my heart raced in response, pounding against my chest like it wanted to break free. A lump formed in my throat, making it hard to swallow as I fought to maintain my composure.

"Cocky much, huh? You really thought no one could resist you, Quinn? Well not everyone is interested in you; you can count me as number one on that list," I said with a sarcastic edge, trying to sound intimidating.

"Is that so, Chloe?" Her lips curled into a wider smirk, and I felt a rush of heat flood my cheeks. In a bold move, she grabbed my thigh, lifting it slightly while her other hand slipped around the back of my neck, anchoring me in place.

I froze as she pressed her knee firmly between my inner thighs, an unexpected pressure that made my breath hitch. My heart raced, pounding in my chest, and it felt as though I had stopped breathing altogether.

Suddenly, her leg began to move, rubbing her knee deeper, pressing right against my inner thighs—directly on my fanny. "Fuck!" My mind was screaming and cursing in disbelief, but I found myself frozen and utterly speechless. I could feel my clit pulsating with each movement creating a friction that sent shockwaves through me.

Heat flushed my cheeks, and I could feel my chest heaving with each breath, my body betraying me in ways I never expected. Our faces were so close that I could feel her warm breath mingling with mine, the faint scent of mint lingering between us. I struggled to hold myself together, fighting the urge to let my eyes roll back. Quinn's gaze stayed locked on mine, unwavering and intense, almost as if she could see right through me. That stare sent a confusing wave of emotions surging within me—leaving me on edge and unsure of what might happen next. The pressure of her knee pressed firmly against my inner thighs stirred a chaotic mix of emotions—fear and, strangely enough, a thrill I couldn't deny. Why was my body reacting this way? It felt like a betrayal.

Before I knew it, my hands had instinctively found their grip on her shoulders, my fingers digging in hard as she continued to push her knee against me, applying more pressure. It was an overwhelming sensation, and I felt caught between wanting to push her away and the wild curiosity of what might happen next.

Her hand suddenly put down my thigh, and the grip at the back of my neck loosened as she began to withdraw her knee from between my thighs. There was a brief moment of silence as she looked down, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. When she lifted her gaze back to mine, a soft chuckle escaped her lips, accompanied by a teasing smirk. "Lie all you want and resist, gorgeous. Your body can't lie, though."

She turned her head down again, and my eyes instinctively followed hers. That's when my jaw dropped. There, on her blue denim jeans, right at her knee, was a wet smudge. My eyes widened in shock. "Shit!" Panic surged through me. Was that my... ? "Fuck!" My mind screamed in chaos, cursing me for the betrayal of my body. I felt exposed and vulnerable, I struggled to find the words to respond. I couldn't believe what had just happened; it felt surreal, and yet, here was the undeniable evidence in front of me.

"Like I said, fate seems to enjoy making our paths cross, gorgeous. I guess you won't be able to shake me off so easily," she taunted, flashing a grin. Then, with one last lingering look, she stepped back, turned around, and strolled out the door with a confidence that felt almost tangible, as if she knew exactly the effect she'd left behind.

I stayed frozen in place, my mind reeling as I watched her leave. The door closed behind her, but the tension lingered, thick and heavy, leaving me speechless and rooted to the spot. I could still feel the warmth of her touch, the intensity of her gaze, echoing in the empty room around me.