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

by Persephone Autumn

  Fuck me.

  His expression says everything his mouth is not. The way his tongue jets out and swipes along his bottom lip before he clamps it between his teeth. The slight smirk that follows. How his irises shift from steel to pewter. A slight rise and fall of his shoulders as his breath comes faster. How his pulse noticeably pumps harder in that spot just below his ear.

  Not only does he want to kiss me. He wants to peel away my shorts and tank. But he also aches to run his fingers through my hair, ball them into fists and yank the strands taught against my scalp. To see my body bow and plead for his touch, his mouth, his tongue. Along every inch of my skin, rebranding and rememorizing all the places he has been once before.

  Both of us stand stock-still. Not touching. Not speaking. Sharing a bond our bodies and hearts have never forgotten. The void between us grows less dark and vacant with each passing second.

  He flings the shirt he’s been holding over his shoulder, sliding his sunglasses down and shielding his eyes from the sun. “Have dinner with me tonight,” he states. It is not a question, but also not a command.

  Every coherent thought in my mind screams at me to tell him no. That we shouldn’t be doing things together as if we are a couple. At least not until this shoot is over and I know I’m not throwing my heart on the line. My brain fights with my heart—battles with my soul—and tells me to be rational, to think this through and understand the repercussions if something goes amiss.

  But I ignore my brain. Tell it to shut the hell up and let me live in the moment. Because it has been so long since I have lived in the moment. Or lived life to its fullest. And I am tired of hiding—who I am and what I want. Tired of missing out on life and love.

  “Yes.” It’s all I say. Because I don’t trust myself to say anything else right now. If I open my mouth, I may say words I said once before but should wait to say again.

  His body comes alive and his expression mirrors a jubilance I have not seen in ages. It rolls off him in waves, piercing my aura and infecting me with a dose. I cannot help but smile at his behavior, his energy, his life force.

  “Any requests? I’m open to whatever,” he says.

  Feigning indecision, I tap a finger against my lips. If Gavin remembers anything about me at all, he would know my answer. But for good measure, I drag out my supposed thinking. When I feel I have sufficiently tortured him enough, I answer.

  “Maybe we could grab some Asian,” I suggest, biting my lower lip.

  A laugh rips from his throat as he shakes from head to toe. “I should have known that would be your answer,” he chuckles out. “Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?”

  “How about I figure that part out, seeing as I’m more familiar with the area. Want me to pick you up?”

  “It wouldn’t be a proper date if you’re the one picking me up. How about I meet you at your place and we drive from there?”

  “Seriously? We’re almost thirty and it’s the twenty-first century. Women can pick up men for a date.”

  He nods, his laugh sparking back to life. “I realize what era we live in, baby. Doesn’t mean I can’t try to be somewhat of a gentleman. Even if I don’t have my car with me. But I’ll find a way to get there, then you can take the helm.”

  I walk to the driver’s side door, Gavin a step behind me with his hand on my hip. Opening the door, I toss my phone on the seat before turning to face him and say goodbye. When I turn, his face is a breath from mine. His lips hovering dangerously close and his eyes locked with determination. As he leans closer, my eyes close, my body ready and waiting to feel his lips on mine. Just as warmth paints my lips, Alyson honks the rental’s horn.

  “Let’s go!” she hollers.

  And just like that, she has plucked my last nerve today. I swallow it down and don’t let it ruin the moment.

  Reluctantly, we pull apart. Our bodies now separated by feet rather than inches. But the vibrating energy between us remains. Almost like when we were teens and our parents walked in the room.

  His hand squeezes my hip. “I’ll see you later, baby. Is five thirty okay?”

  “That’s fine. See you then,” I say as he releases my hip and walks away.

  Immobile, I watch as he gets into the car and Alyson backs out. He gives me a sweet half smile as they drive past me. The car leaves the lot, drives on the paved two-lane road and heads for the exit. It’s not until the car is out of sight that I slide into my car, start the engine and roll down the windows. And as I drive out of the park, my mind drifts over all the possibilities of what tonight means. For us. For our future.

  This is really happening. The only person I have ever truly loved is back in my life. And he has promised to return to me. To stay with me. To keep me forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Gavin

  Fuck if I am not excited about tonight. About the possibility of a future with the one person who has been tattooed on my heart for more than a decade. The one person I never want to be apart from again. The one person I cannot wait to spend every day of forever with.

  The entire way back to the hotel, Alyson chews me a new asshole. Bitching and moaning about how I need to be more mindful in regards to my actions. Scolding me worse than any occasion my parents did. And how I better not forget I am under contract—with her, the clothing designer and the magazine. As if I need reminding. As if this is my first shoot.

  I let her have her moment. Allow her to complain and reiterate the same shit on repeat. Spew the same garbage she has since the first day of the shoot. But when she finishes, I take it as a sign that I finally get a chance to speak. To tell her what is on my mind. To shut down her tirade.

  “Alyson, you know how much I value your opinion and expertise. But there are a few parts of my life that are not what I pay you to handle. My love life is not part of your job and most definitely will never be a part of your pay grade. Do you understand?”

  There is no plainer way to express this to her. I only hope she gets where I am coming from. That I am not trying to be a dick and just laying the basics out there. She needs to understand me being with Cora is permanent. She needs to get used to us being together and me living my life how I want.

  We drive south on Edgewater, not far from the Dunedin-Clearwater border. “Of course, I understand. But you pay me to make decisions that will impact the future of your career. And this” —she gestures behind us— “her, will impact your future. In more ways than one.”

  That is what I am hoping.

  “I realize she’ll change my future. It’s what I’m hoping for. The one thing I’ve wanted for years. And now I have the ability of returning to her.” I pause a moment and ponder over my next words. “This will make things different with our relationship, but you can either represent me from afar or I can find someone else. The choice is yours.”

  I hate to throw ultimatums on the table, but I will not have her or anyone else hindering my return. Not Alyson. Not my mother. No one. Although, a small part of me thinks my mom may be happy for me. After our move to Cali, I witnessed how sad she was for me. How guilty she felt for removing me from my friends and girlfriend. It hurt me, and her by proxy.

  “Well, aside from your plan to move—” she says hesitantly, then continues. “—don’t forget about the shoot you have booked with Layla. And speaking of Layla, how will all of that work out if you move across the country?”

  I shoot her a pointed look, but she doesn’t catch it with her eyes on the road. “I’ll talk with her. She’ll understand. Besides, she’s good now.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I question, fire building in my chest. I am so over Alyson, her selfishness and her annoyance with me living my life how I choose.

  “Nothing. All it means is I hope it doesn’t ruin you or her.”

  “It won’t,” I snap. Alyson is grasping at straws. Trying to make something of nothing. Trying to rile me up. But I won’t feed into her line of bu
llshit.

  The remainder of our drive is quiet. Alyson churning my words in her head, realizing she has an important decision to make. She is either on board or she isn’t. And trying to throw bullshit about Layla in the mix—it is a low blow, even for Alyson. I have been working for years to get to this point. To return to Cora. And now that I am able, nothing will stop me. Nothing will take this away from me. From us.

  The Uber driver dropped me off in front of Cora’s house five minutes ago. So why am I standing out front? My feet locked in place on the rustic paver pathway leading to her front stoop. I stare at the gray siding, black shutters, and black-framed glass door, taking my first, true assessment of her home.

  A large oak tree shadows most of the yard with lush ferns growing around the base of the trunk. Two ducks waddle away from the ferns and cross the street to head for the park’s pond. A brick chimney painted dark gray crawls up the eastern wall of the house—and although fireplaces aren’t used often in Florida, I bet she uses it every chance she gets. Small flowered plants encompass the border of the house—pops of yellow and red and purple in the foliage—white rocks at their base. Large windows take up the majority of the exterior walls and allow for hours of natural light. Strands of starry lights dangle from the roof over the stoop. Everything about this house screams her style. Simple. Clean-cut. Monochromatic. With the exception of the colorful plants.

  I remain rooted another minute before dragging in a deep breath. The reality of us coming back together hits me like a lead weight. A burning tightness takes residence in my chest, building and expanding with every breath. It consumes every molecule of oxygen, every drop of blood, every fiber and jolts me back to life.

  This is my future. She is my future.

  God, I have dreamed about this moment for so long. Dreamed of her in my arms again. Imagined what life would be like waking up in the same bed every day. Moving around each other in the kitchen while making breakfast. Spooning on the couch as we watch movies in the dark. Discussing our day over dinner. Laughing together with friends. Creating a family and growing old together.

  She is it for me. Always has been. Always will be. Not a single day has passed where I haven’t thought of Cora. Wondered what she was doing. How she fit into the world now. If she still thought of me. If she would be able to love me again.

  Fuck, I love her so much.

  The front door opens and Cora stands in the doorway looking at me with questions in her eyes. “You okay?” she asks, doubt in her voice. No doubt she has seen me standing out here. Hopefully not for too long.

  “Yeah. Sorry.” I stride up the path and stop in front of her. I plant a kiss on her forehead and inhale deeply, filling my nose with the scent that is one-hundred-percent her. “Was just admiring your house. You’ve done so well for yourself. And it suits you so much.”

  “Thank you,” she says, a timid smile pushing up her cheeks. “You coming in? Or do you plan to stand out here until we leave?”

  I step past her, seeing the inside of her house in a new light. The interior isn’t overly spacious, but it is enough for her. For us. I love how easily I picture our future. Our road may have had major detours, but we are finally coming back to the path we belong on. Together.

  To the right, the living room—maybe twelve square-feet—showcases the fireplace from the eastern wall with a charcoal and gray fabric couch opposite. A resin-coated wood slice coffee table rests between the two, decorated with a wide bowl of succulents. To the left is the kitchen and dining area. The kitchen is small yet vast. A large fridge at one end, the range near the other end. On the small island sitting between the kitchen and dining is a farmhouse sink and enough space for a few people to sit on stools and eat at the bar. Planked wood and riveted steel make up the dining table with four seats attached that swing underneath. Along the far wall of the dining area is her desk—a restored piece with distressed black paint and two shallow drawers. Simplistic art decorates the walls while minimal pieces adorn the furniture. With a tall vaulted ceiling, the cozy house is more spacious than it would appear from the outside.

  I smile as I take it all in. There is not one part of this house that doesn’t have a piece of her in its grain or plaster or beams. Without a doubt, I would recognize this place as hers in a heartbeat. Her style screams from every nook and cranny. Her predilection for minimalism and simplicity shine from every corner, wall, and piece of décor.

  “I was almost finished getting ready when I saw you outside. Give me a minute and then we can go.”

  “Take all the time you need, baby. I’ll be out here waiting,” I say as I sit on the couch.

  Seconds after I sit, an all-black cat jumps up beside me, purring and rubbing its head on my arm. I scratch and pet the cat as it takes a liking to me. Glad you like me because I will be around quite often.

  “And that would be Luna,” Cora shares. “She’s a lover and will probably coat you in her fur before we leave. Good thing I own several lint rollers.”

  I laugh as I pet Luna and she loves on me further. As I stroke her soft fur, the thought of her one day being my Luna brings a smile to my face. Since becoming a model, I have never owned a pet. As much as I wanted one, the thought of leaving a dog or cat behind for weeks on end doesn’t sit well with me. It would be unfair to them, and me, to have someone pet sit and me not spend time with them. They may not be human, but they are your children all the same.

  Cora breaks my introspection when she walks back into the room. “Ready when you are. Unless you’d rather spend date night with Luna,” she says and giggles, a sound I haven’t heard in so long. I almost forgot how musical her laugh is. Almost.

  Patting Luna’s backside, I whisper my apologies to her before rising from the couch. “Lead the way, baby.”

  We head out the back door, get in her car and drive to dinner. A little over thirty minutes later, we pull into a small parking lot beside an Asian vegan restaurant. She leads us inside and I love it immediately. The restaurant is small and simple, low-key. Absolutely perfect.

  Once we are seated, we look over the menu and choose a few appetizers as well as our meals. We talk about life and key things that have happened to us over the last thirteen years. And as awkward as it is, we discuss relationships we have had. Funny enough, neither of us has had a relationship that lasted more than a few months. Neither of us finding someone who fulfilled us in the same way we do each other. And to me, that speaks volumes.

  I share with her my plan to move back after the shoot in Cali and how I will still be able to work being out here. She points out why she is skeptical it will work—not us, but me working. That I won’t have the same connections as I do now. But I beg to differ. Since I have been working in the industry for the last ten years, I have developed several contacts and am able to find work whenever and wherever I choose. And moving to Florida, I will end up discovering a whole new array of connections. Ones I would never have in California. Tampa, Orlando, and Miami are major cities picking up steam in the modeling industry.

  The rest of dinner goes by seamlessly. Conversations about both of our work lives cease. We pack up our leftovers and I pay the bill. Soon thereafter, we are on our way back to her house. The drive back absent of conversation as we listen to music and enjoy the feel of our fingers laced together. And when we park in her driveway, the atmosphere between us grows heavy. With questions. With uncertainty. And most of all… desire.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Gavin

  Thirteen and a half years ago

  As dorky as it sounds, I can’t wait to celebrate our one-year anniversary together. Although we have been best friends for the last year and a half, we weren’t dubbed “official” until this time last year. Most people assume it is only the girl who gets excited about these moments. But I am buzzing with the thrill and ready to celebrate with the one person who means the world to me.

  Brakes squeak as Cora parks in the driveway, the new-to-her Toyota a little rumbly. Her parents b
ought her the used car a couple weeks ago after she officially got her license. It has been great to be able to do our own thing, within reason, and not be subjected to our parents taking us places or annoying older friends with cars.

  I run out the front door, yelling to my parents that I will be home by curfew. Swinging open the passenger door with a bit more oomph than expected, I slip into the seat, lean over the center console and kiss my girl breathless. When we come up for air, I stare at the hazy expression on her face. It is a dash of euphoria mixed with the soft lines of her angelic face. And I never tire of seeing her this way. Happy.

  “You can’t do that,” she whispers, her eyes hidden behind her lids.

  Leaning back into her space, my lips hover a breath from hers. “Can’t do what, baby?”

  “Kiss me like that and expect me to be able to function afterward.”

  I press a soft, chaste kiss to her lips. “How can I not kiss you like you hold the other half of my soul?”

  Her eyes flick open, her green irises shimmering in the fading light of the day. Darting back and forth between mine, her eyes expressive in their desire to know how we could both feel the way we do. We idle in the driveway another minute, the car vibrating beneath us, as so many things are said without a single word spoken. How is it I know everything she is thinking without her even telling me?