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

But deep down, I know the answer. Or at least I believe I know the answer.

Jonas and I have been friends for most of my adult life. Close to ten years. He is sexy as hell and has a heart of gold. And I know he would be there for me in a heartbeat if I needed him. But I am not so sure if he is long-term relationship material. He has had girlfriends in the past, but most of his relationships only stick for a month or two. And I want more in life than a couple months of good times.

I wish I could be one of those women. The ones who have a couple months of great sex and move on. Just go with the wind. But I am not engineered that way. Never have been, never will be.

Sometimes, I wonder why his relationships have never made it past the two-month mark. Is there an asshole side to Jonas I don’t know about? Or is it the women who are assholes to him? Does the fun fizzle out at two months? Does he get bored with them? As badly as I want to ask him, I can’t do that. It is none of my business, unless he wants to divulge. But still, I wonder. Often.

I laugh at Shelly and Jonas, slapping my hand on the table for good measure. “Tonight will not be forgotten anytime soon. I guarantee it.”

“Word,” Jonas adds.

His knee brushes mine under the table and I suddenly hear my pulse. Heat flushes my skin and dampens my palms. As much as I know I shouldn’t be in a relationship with Jonas, I can’t ignore the way he causes my heart to beat a little faster. The way my breathing turns a bit ragged. There is something about him. Something I have yet to pin down, but maybe one day I will figure it out. Maybe one day, my heart won’t be overruled by my past.

A change of topic is needed, especially since sticky, sweet grandpa has now left the stage after his standing ovation. Bringing the brown bottle with the label peeling at the corners to my lips, I peer over at Shelly and ponder over the neutral things we can discuss. But I don’t have to worry for long because she comes to my rescue.

“So, anything new or exciting happening with work?” she prompts.

Definite neutral ground. Bless you, my friend. Bless you.

“Yeah. I wrapped up a project for the parks department the other day. It was awesome to visit all the county parks and shoot pictures. I didn’t realize how many parks we have in the area. Anyway, they’re publishing a magazine next month and hoping to get people outdoors more.”

“And why didn’t you ask either of us to tag along while you were taking said photos?” Jonas shoots me with faux guilt. There is that damn dimple again.

Why am I choosing to not date him? The more I am near him, the more interaction we share, the more I ask this question. If only I had a legitimate answer before getting admitted to a psych ward.

“Next time,” I mutter. “My next shoot is on Clearwater Beach, for the most part. It’s an advertisement for beach attire—on the beach and off—including accessories. It will be the first time I’ve worked with Global Beach Magazine, which will be an amazing addition to my resume and portfolio. I’d invite you to watch, but that might be awkward. Not like visiting the park.”

Jonas rests his hand over mine for the count of three, two, one. Breathe, Cora. Breathe.

“When does that start?” he asks as he lifts his hand and rests it beside mine.

“Next week. The first of April. The shoot is spread out over a week. Some indoors, but most on the beach. A few also taken in Dunedin. I’m excited and freaking out at the same time.”

Shelly sets her fruity, pink drink on the table, but twirls the blue drink umbrella. “Why are you freaking out?”

“I have no idea. Every time I think of the shoot, I get this weird twinge in my gut. It’s strange. I’ve never felt this way before a shoot. Maybe it’s because my name will be plastered in a national magazine next to some pretty boy’s face.” I wince and shrug.

Snatching my beer from the table, I chug the rest and hold my bottle up, signaling to the waitress for another round. She catches my request and nods.

“But I thought you were hot for the pretty boys,” Shelly teases.

I bat my eyelashes at her. “Damn! You got me.”

And then we are all laughing. Yet another reason why I love hanging with Jonas and Shelly. We can say the stupidest shit and there is no judgment. We love each other for who we are and would never want anything different. That is how friendship should be—unconditional acceptance. Quirks and all.

The waitress drops off another round of drinks and I request an order of tortilla chips with salsa and guacamole. Might as well get comfortable, seeing as karaoke night started with a bang. One can only hope the next act is equally awesome. And by awesome, I mean not another rendition of geriatric porn.

“You guys want to hang tomorrow?” Shelly pipes up. “Maybe we can hit Putt-Putt and go-karts at Celebration Station. I’m feeling the need to speed past some prepubescent punks.” She laughs then sips her fresh cocktail.

“I’m in,” Jonas answers.

“Definitely,” I say. “I’m always up for putting punks in their place.”

Just as Shelly is about to screech with excitement, karaoke grandpa’s competitor jumps onstage. Let’s just say she is trying to up his show and is making a valiant effort. The unmistakable intro and beat of “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-A-Lot pours from the speaker. Every possible body part on her body is jiggling as she attempts to shake her ass.

Maybe I shouldn’t have ordered food.

Dear Lord, someone save us from the hell we are being subjected