Through the Lens (Click Duet #1) (Bay Area Duet Series)

by Persephone Autumn

  She rubs her face along my cheek, silently asking me to get up and give her breakfast. Shoving the comforter to my waist, I huff and scoot up to a sitting position. Luna meows her excitement, jumps off the bed, and trots out of the bedroom. I follow behind her, walking half alert to the kitchen. Thankfully, this part of the morning routine requires no brainpower.

  One scoop of food and a few pets later, Luna purrs like a champ while she eats. I wish my morning could be so simple. Wake up whenever, disturb my parental, make them feed me, then go about my day. If only…

  I head for the bathroom and jerk back when I see myself in the mirror.

  Hot. Fucking. Mess.

  A hot shower and a smear of makeup can only do so much. By the looks of it, I need a couple bottles of concealer. Fingers crossed I can perform miracles and mask the dark half-moons under my eyes. Lord, help me.

  After my shower, I dress and do my makeup, adding more concealer than normal. Not two bottles worth, but enough to feel like I now have three additional layers of skin. I snag my phone from the charger and sift through my notifications while I eat a quick breakfast.

  One of the first alerts I see… an email from Alyson Jameson, Gavin’s agent. Emails in the middle of a shoot gives me hives. Especially after the comment Gavin made yesterday about one of Alyson’s prior clients.

  My finger taps on the notification and my email opens. Eyes scanning the email, I read the message twice, making sure I read and decipher it accurately.

  Ms. Davies,

  I would like to extend a personal thank you for your time. Sorry I missed yesterday’s photo shoot due to circumstances I couldn’t prevent. Today is a new day.

  Tonight, we would like to sit down with you and talk about the remaining days. Please join us for dinner at the Island Way Grill at six thirty p.m.

  Cordially,

  Alyson Jameson

  Why is she calling a dinner meeting to discuss the photo shoot? Seems odd. The itinerary is written and has been reviewed countless times before this week. By myself, the agent, and the company.

  Shit.

  Did she see me and Gavin last night in the parking lot? Not that there was anything noteworthy. Nothing inappropriate or unprofessional occurred. But that is the only possible reason I can think of as to why she is requesting I meet with them for dinner.

  Taking my remaining breakfast to the garbage can, I scrape the last few bites into the bag. At least I had eaten the majority of the food before the taste turned bitter on my tongue. As long as it stays down, everything will be alright.

  I do a few last-minute checks in the house before grabbing my purse and heading to my car. My head in a fog, a list of scenarios running rampant in my head as to why we are having a dinner meeting. The distraction gets the best of me and before I realize what is happening, I trip over an uneven paver and fall face-first into the grass. I turn my head and grimace at the paver I have been meaning to fix for months but have ignored.

  “Shit,” I curse into the wind.

  It is my fault, I recognize this. But it doesn’t make it hurt less.

  What I need to do is focus. Quit worrying over what if and pay attention to what is. And right now, my sole focus is this photo shoot. Not the man whose picture I take this week. This is my job, my livelihood. The only thing that will remain constant when he leaves again. Because he will leave again.

  Thirty minutes later, I wind through the two-lane road inside Sand Key Park. The sun hasn’t been up long, which is why the park remains quiet. None of the locals, or spring breakers, have arrived yet. But within an hour or two, this place will be inundated with exposed flesh and sunscreen.

  Driving past a few covered shelters, I glimpse the birds and squirrels as they peck at the semi-scraped BBQ grills in hopes they will find a morsel. Half a minute later, the road winds left and I near more shelters, restrooms, and the beach access parking. This park is the perfect mix of park-life and beach-life. And makes an excellent backdrop for any outdoor photo shoot in the area.

  I park the car and feed the meter station. Leaving my equipment in the car, I walk down the path leading to the beach and look for potential places to work today. Sitting on a boulder-sized rock, I stare out at the water and get lost for a moment.

  Although my job takes me to various locations, I never have the time to stop and enjoy where I am. The beach is great at times—in the early morning or late evening. But I love wandering in the parks and nature preserves. There is something magical about being in the thick of nature. Disconnecting from life and reconnecting with yourself. Forgetting about social media or texts or all the distractions and simply focusing on you.

  And in my zoned-out mindset, I recall the occasions when Gavin and I would play-bicker over the beach versus the park. How he stated the beach was superior because of sunsets (on our coast) and sunrises (the east coast). My rebuttal consisted of how the sunlight filtered through the trees and the connection with the earth. We debated over it for hours before deciding it didn’t matter.

  Spotting a few places, I head back to the car and wait for Erin to arrive. As I take out the last few things I will need, I hear a car and look up. Erin waves at me as she parks in the space beside me.

  “Morning,” she hollers as she gets out of the car. “Present!”

  I am momentarily confused until I see her retrieve and then hand me an oversized iced coconut milk matcha latte and a chocolate croissant from a local bakery.

  Swooning at the treats, I kiss her cheek and snatch them from her. “Have I told you how much I love you?” I ask as I bite into the sweet pastry and moan.

  Two seconds later, I regret that moan. Because that is the exact moment Gavin walks up behind me, rests his hands on my hips, and scares the shit out of me.

  “That’s a sound I haven’t heard in years,” he says then smirks.

  Almost dropping my drink, I whip around and glare at him. “JFC, Gavin. You scared the bejesus out of me.”

  He laughs before asking, “JFC?”

  Erin shakes her head and answers his question, noticing how I am hunched over and still trying to catch my breath. “It stands for Jesus fucking Christ. She uses the acronym in public, so she doesn’t offend anyone.”

  “Ah,” he lilts. “Still so considerate of everyone else. Good to see the good qualities haven’t changed.”

  Briefly, I want to ask what other qualities he remembers. Or consider good? But I opt not to. The last thing I need after a second night of shitty sleep is a trip down memory lane. Because memory lane when you’re not altogether there is a dangerous setup.

  Once I locate my voice, I scold him. “Don’t do that again! You know how much I don’t like people sneaking up on me.”

  His smile is subtle, falling away as quickly as it appears. His actions were intentional and got the result he was hoping for, that much I read from his smirk. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.” Great, now Gavin plans to use my quirks against me.

  I look around the lot, expecting to see Alyson. Although she spends a great deal of time on her phone, she seems the type to be involved. Especially after receiving her email earlier. But she is nowhere in sight. “Where’s your agent?”

  Gavin gazes out toward the beach, his sunglasses shielding his eyes from mine. “She’ll be here soon. After yesterday, she’s taking her time waking up today. Says she may have had a twenty-four-hour bug or food poisoning. She’s not sure, but doesn’t want to run full force this morning.”

  I let Erin know the three places I want to be sure we shoot today. We take a few minutes to prioritize the order, guaranteeing the best shots with the least amount of beachgoers, and how to use the natural lighting to our advantage in each spot.

  When we finish talking strategy, I glance around the lot again and something dawns on me. “Gavin, how did you get here?”

  “I walked,” he replies flatly. As if it should be obvious. But for all I know, he could have gotten an Uber and let them drop him off at the entrance of
the park.

  “Over the bridge? The walk is long enough, but that incline is ridiculous.” Walking the distance probably wasn’t too bad. It was maybe three miles. But with the traffic, the tourists, and the bridge incline, I would have fallen over by now. Not to mention the mix of humidity and sweat.

  As if he can hear my thoughts, a smile perches on his lips. “I’ve hiked worse trails in Cali. I didn’t even break a sweat. Should give it a try sometime.”

  Shrugging him off, I face Erin as we toss everything in one cart today. Today’s shoot should be easier and less obstructed than yesterday.

  As I reach for the cart handle, Gavin does also. Our fingers touch for two breaths, and that old familiar current buzzes up my arms and slithers directly to my chest. Warm and comforting and libidinous. I yank mine away and try not to think about why my body is reacting to his. After everything that happened and how much time has passed, no part of me should be thrilled or eager or accepting. If anything, his touch should garner loss and heartbreak and depression.

  He laughs at me, gestures with his other hand in front of him. “Lead the way, boss.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait for Alyson?” I ask. Definitely don’t need his agent pissed because we didn’t wait for her arrival.

  “When we get to wherever, I’ll text her. Don’t worry about it,” Gavin says breezily.

  But therein lies the problem… I am worried about it.

  Chapter Ten

  Gavin

  Being near Cora intoxicates me. After so many years apart, and seeing her for hours each day since I arrived, it has been a challenge to feign my feelings. If I thought leaving her the first time was difficult, this time will be a hundred times worse. If not more.

  But what if it didn’t have to be that way? What if we didn’t have to go our separate ways after the photo shoot?

  Both our careers allow flexibility. And I am sure she travels for work as much as I do. So why couldn’t things be different now? Our circumstances are not what they were thirteen years ago. We are no longer children, forced to go where our family takes us. We are adults, and we decide how to run our lives.

  So why can we not make this work? Why can we not give us another shot?

  I want to tell her this. Tell her I would like—after this shoot is over—to try and get back to where we were. Although we are no longer the same people we once were, my feelings for her have never waned. If anything, they have only amplified over time, not revealing themselves until I prepared to board that plane in Los Angeles.

  We stand near a jetty of rocks. Cora and Erin mess with cameras and equipment as they prep for the shoot. Knowing they don’t need assistance from me, I wander toward the water. Silent and deep in thought.

  “You okay?” Cora asks before I step out of earshot.

  I peek over my shoulder at her, subtly smile, and nod. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  After about fifteen feet, I stop and stare out at the Gulf. The water crashes against the rocks and sand in choppy, small waves. Salt absorbs the humidity and dampens my skin. Seaweed and the earthy scent of sand permeate my nose. The rising sun warms my exposed arms and legs. And I am thankful this time of year isn’t scorching, but the heat will be here soon enough. That is one thing I don’t miss—the heat. Sure, California gets hot, but it’s not equivalent to Florida and neither is the humidity.

  I get lost in my thoughts, working to clear my head, when flip-flops smack in the sand behind me. But I don’t turn toward the sound. Instead, I close my eyes and imagine what it would be like to be here with her without our jobs in the mix. To slip my fingers between hers and walk hand in hand down the beach. To watch the sunset together and talk about everything we have missed about each other. And kiss her lips for the first time in forever. To simply just exist with her at my side.

  Absolute perfection.

  Warm, delicate fingers brush down my bicep, stopping at my elbow. I stop breathing.

  “Gavin,” she whispers. “We’re ready when you are. Take your time.”

  I glance over my shoulder at her and give a small smile. “I’ll be just a second,” I rasp, my voice rattled with emotion. I swallow, aiming to moisten my suddenly dry throat. As much moisture as there is in the air, you would think there is no possible way to be parched.

  She nods and I watch as she walks back over to where Erin stands. They talk quietly and I am unable to hear them over the waves hitting the rocks. When I start walking their way, I catch how Cora peeks up at me then looks away. A step later, Erin mimics her. Interesting.

  I conclude with this minor detail they’re talking about me. And as soon as I reach them, they both fall silent. Yep, they were most definitely gossiping about me. The idea does strange things to me. Twists my stomach in heart-shaped knots. Alters my breathing pattern into an odd staccato. Adds a new layer of sweat beneath my salty, humid skin. Makes my fingers fidget enough that I want to shove them in my pockets. Pockets I don’t have today.

  Cora’s eyes refuse to meet mine. If honest with myself, I would venture to guess she is avoiding eye contact on purpose. But her avoidance isn’t cold. It’s as if she donned a new suit of armor, the type designed for the sole purpose of protecting one’s heart. Her heart. The same heart I shattered into a million shards. And another blade stabs me for what I did to her. What I could have fixed if I had the balls to do it.

  My heart beats so violently, as if it’s trying to rip its way out of my chest. But the pericardium encasing my heart holds it back, restrains me, as hers does the same. I have to keep reminding myself, I am the reason for her walls. I am the reason she keeps telling me no. But I also hope to be the reason those walls come down.

  We are ten minutes into the shoot when Alyson approaches. For someone who said she was on death’s door yesterday, she looks a few shades tanner. Maybe it’s the white summer apparel she wears, making her skin pop against the stark color. Or maybe she wanted to enjoy a little downtime while here, knowing she could trust me to do the right thing.

  No matter. Neither scenario bothers me. Just glad she is okay. Alyson may be the bridezilla version of a talent agent, but I have known her years and still care about her as a person.

  We finish up shooting near the rocks, then spend an hour snapping photos by seagrasses. The shoot wraps after we take numerous photos on a path resembling a pier in the sand. Cora takes photos from several different angles and I honestly cannot wait to see the end results.

  Erin packs a few things into the cart when I approach Cora. “So, I’ll see you at six-thirty?”

  She checks her watch, noting our dinner is a little more than three hours from now. “Yes, I’ll be there. I let Alyson know earlier.”

  Right, Alyson. I ignore the idea of Alyson disrupting dinner and change the topic.

  “Do you need help?” I point to the cart.

  “No, I’m good. Thanks, though.”

  We all shuffle back to the cars. And although I walked here this morning, the temperature is much warmer now and I don’t want to spend over an hour with the heat beating down on me. I ask Alyson for a ride back. She concedes and we hop in the rental after saying goodbye to Cora and Erin.

  We are out of the park and turning off the bridge when Alyson turns down the radio, muting the local rock station. “So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

  I peer over at her, her eyes glued to the road as she watches for pedestrians. “Not sure I understand the question,” I answer. I have an idea of where this is headed, but I won’t put words in her mouth or give her fuel for the fire.

  Stopped at a red light for Hamden Drive, she faces me a second and then returns her eyes to the street. “The dinner meeting.” I don’t miss the way she emphasizes the word meeting. Her tone mirroring a bad taste on her tongue. Yep. Just as I suspected.

  “I thought we already discussed this. I really don’t feel like repeating myself,” I clip.

  She turns onto Hamden and we wade through traffic for the next twenty minutes. Not another word passes
between us and the silence leans more toward uncomfortable than not.

  Once she parks the car, we head into the hotel. I press the call button for the elevator and notice her slight fidget as we wait.

  Is she nervous? Why the hell would she be nervous?

  “You okay?” I ask as the elevator car arrives and we step in.

  We press the buttons for our respective floors and the doors close. Once we are in the confines of the elevator, she answers, “I’m fine. Just…”

  I hold up a hand, stopping her from continuing. Already aware of what she is going to say. She is warning me. Telling me to be on my best behavior. As if I am a fucking child. As if I am her former client who liked to stick his dick in anything with a hole. I understand her role in our business relationship, but she needs to give me some slack. She needs to trust me.

  The elevator pings for her floor and she hesitates a moment. A second later, she steps out and faces me. “Enjoy your dinner, Gavin.”

  I nod, a snide smile on my face. Thanks, I will.

  Searching through my memory, I cannot recall a time I remember being as nervous as I am right now. It has been ten minutes since the host seated me. Eight minutes since the server came to the table, pouring two glasses of ice water and asking if I would prefer something else to drink. Five minutes since I picked up the menu, scanned the options but didn’t read a single word of it.

  But none of that matters. None of it.

  As I twist and untwist the cloth napkin in my lap, the only thing that matters is standing at the host podium. She is utter perfection. And I am second-guessing this whole situation I masterminded.

  While she waits for the host to return and direct her to the table, I sit in silence and watch her. Her silky, straight hair grazes the tops of her shoulders. The inky black strands parted off-center, the side with less hair tucked behind her ear. The other side hangs straight and blankets half of her cheek.