Through the Lens (Click Duet #1) (Bay Area Duet Series) Persephone Autumn (black authors fiction TXT) 📖

waves his way and I give him a half-hearted smile. The action brief and cold and says don’t fuck with me today. If he is able to still read me like he used to, I hope he reads me loud and clear. I don’t have the time or patience for games or bullshit today.

He rises from the chair and offers to help us wheel the equipment to the beach. I happily forfeit my cart and follow in his wake as we go through the gate. After a minute of trudging through the sand, reality catches up to me.

“Hey.” I tap his shoulder. “Where’s your agent? Alyson, right?”

“Alyson,” he confirms. “She said she’s not feeling good. Thinks she caught a bug on the plane or something. She locked herself in her room and will only open the door for room service.”

“That sucks. Is she okay with us still doing the shoot today?” I don’t need to step on any toes. Or not follow a specific itinerary she set. In a single day, I learned the type of woman Alyson is—regimented. Organization isn’t a bad quality. Just one I don’t want to fuck with. Not with this shoot.

He peeks at me over his shoulder, a small, sweet smile touching his lips. A different smile than those he gave me yesterday. A smile that wakes me up further and quickens my pulse. Fuck.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Most of the time, she stands there and hovers, checking emails and text messages. She feels obligated to be present in case something happens.”

In case something happens? What does that mean?

“Like what?” I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me. If I had gotten better sleep, I probably wouldn’t have asked. Maybe. Who really knows at this point.

He laughs, his body shaking from the extent of it. “One of her previous clients got a little too involved with things during the shoot. So now she’s always on set with her clients. Either that or someone within the company.”

I am still confused. I should have bought an espresso with my breakfast. “A little too involved?”

His smile glows brighter than the rising sun. “Yes. As in, unprofessional things occurred during the shoot. They were mutual, but it later caused issues.”

Light bulb moment. One of her clients slept with a photographer. While they were supposed to be doing the shoot. Woah. Seriously unethical.

“Well, she doesn’t have to worry about that with us,” I blurt out, mentally slapping the side of my head when I realize I had spoken the words aloud and not in my head. Foot meet mouth.

When I meet his eyes, an odd sadness lingers. I don’t think the solemnity shadows him because I said we won’t have sex while in the middle of working. No, I assume the actual reason digs deeper. The expansive roots wrapped tightly around one another. I shake off the thought and try to focus on where to take photos.

“Here,” I belt out, then apologize for my volume. “Let’s work from here.”

Gavin nods and walks off for a minute, his hands resting on top of his head, fingers laced together. He walks ten, twenty, thirty feet down the beach before he stops and stares out at the vacant water. His eyes don’t avert. His body a sand sculpture. And for a moment, I see the Gavin I knew all those years ago. Without armor or ego. Just the man.

Erin softly touches my shoulder and startles me. “Sorry,” she says. “You okay?”

I meet her eyes a second, nod and return to watching Gavin. “I’ll be okay.” I hope I will be okay. Please let me be okay.

“If you need anything at all, say the word. Even if it’s a breather.”

My eyes fall back on her. Erin is such a great friend and I am beyond lucky to be surrounded by so many wonderful people. I place my hand over hers. “Thanks for always being here for me. I don’t say thank you often enough.”

She swats the air between us. “Some things don’t have to be said, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

After Gavin walks back, we discuss the various images the brand is seeking and the photos we will shoot today. I recognize the moment when Gavin slips into model-mode—the shift in his expression, his body language more exposed, the wall he erects to protect the deeper parts of himself. The way he carries himself in model-mode, it is obvious he is not a model only for the attention or the paycheck. He enjoys the end result as well as what comes along with it.

He may have been a cocky prick yesterday. He may have pressed every button under my skin. But today, Gavin flaunts an unexpected side of himself. One rawer and more appealing. One he should show more frequently when working. A side most photographers would drool over.

Is it because of Alyson’s absence? Does she smother this side of him?

We take numerous shots with him in the board shorts, shirt, and flip-flops. We scroll through several of the images, hemming and hawing. After he and I are satisfied with what has been taken, we move to the next feature. Gavin in board shorts only.

Yes, I have seen Gavin naked. Yes, I understand Gavin will not be naked for the shoot. But does that halt the rapid flutter of butterflies beneath my breastbone? Nope, not one bit. Does the idea cause my breath to hitch? One-hundred-percent. Like a damn teenager again.

He kicks the shoes off, flinging them toward the cart. A small laugh erupts from his chest as he catches me ogling him, my eyes averting and coming back faster than a ping-pong ball. In my semi-awake state, there is no point in resisting what I want. Like alcohol, sleeplessness drops your inhibitions. Makes you do things your rational mind would lecture you on.

Erin giggles under her breath and I give her a shut up look. But as I turn to face Gavin again, he peels his shirt overhead with his back to me.