Hell had always been an abstract concept to Chris, whose own version of it seemed to be living in a fast-paced world and being forced to see things that horrified him, all the time. There was some existentialist playwright who'd come up with the phrase Hell is other people, and Chris was totally down with that. It was probably fortunate that he hadn't asked and Hesper hadn't told him specifically where she was from.
There was really no point in going over again how Chris hadn't meant for her to see the drawing and how he hadn't really seen her like that except for in his mind's eye. They'd covered that already, and Hesper didn't seem the type who'd want to revisit something they'd already discussed. It didn't seem to him that she liked wasting time with anything. Which kind of made him wonder what she was doing here with him, but anyway.
Her grin reached into him and twisted his insides into knots when she said she wasn't lying about modeling. He glanced down and then back up at her again, trying not to blush. It was her tone and her expression that was getting to him. He'd had Amity model for him before, though there'd been nothing the least bit salacious about it, because she was his best friend. He'd always found her attractive in an unconventional way, and he'd wanted to try to capture that on paper. That was all it had been.
He'd heard about artists and their models though; he might've been sheltered, but he hadn't grown up under a rock. Pretend she didn't mean what you think she did. You're good at pretending, right? "I should draw you in a halo and angel wings," he mumbled, trying to make the tiniest joke. Oh, wait, on the other hand maybe that wasn't the best thought. How about those Victoria's Secret chicks who walked the catwalk dressed up like angels? Angels weren't supposed to be sexy, Chris didn't think, but those definitely were.