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

was beyond embarrassing, yet I loved every second of it. Loved that he didn’t care who was watching.

He takes a step closer to me, eliminating the empty space between us. I suck in a breath, my body straightening and my breasts brushing against his chest. His hands dance along my jawline before his fingers lace in my hair and he brings his mouth to mine.

He kisses me with such intensity, I forget how to breathe. His tongue traces over my lower lip and I open for him. Our tongues begin this wild dance, fevered and needy. Wolf whistles erupt around us, but we ignore every one of them. It is just me and Gavin as the world disappears. And as quickly as the kiss began, it ends.

I grab hold of his biceps, dragging in ragged breaths while trying to calm my heart.

“You are forgiven,” I tell him when my lungs settle.

He presses a sweet kiss to the center of my lips. “Thanks.”

When he pulls away from our embrace, he looks over at the tree beside us. My eyes shift to see what he is looking at, and my jaw falls to the ground.

“When? How? Did you?” I fumble over what I am trying to ask him.

“This morning. With the pocket knife I snuck into school. And yes, I did.”

My fingers brush over the chipped away bark. On the trunk of the tree, he has carved “C+G tu es les étoiles de ma lune.” He had been taking French for the last three years, but I’d chosen Spanish and had no idea what this said.

“What does it mean?” I ask, my fingers still caressing each of the indentations he had made. Must have taken him a while.

He brushes the back of his index finger along my jawline to my chin. “It says ‘the stars to my moon,’” he whispers, although I’m the only person close enough to hear.

My face hurts from the smile he has given me. “I love you, too.”

A tear rolls down my cheek and I wonder if that tree—inside the confines of our high school—still displays our initials. Or if the bark has grown and covered it over the years. The younger, lovestruck part of me wants to visit the tree again. The tree where it all began. Our tree.

Luna curls up beside me, purring with vigor as I stroke her soft fur. And after a few minutes pass, I drift off to a deep sleep where I dream about trees and love and the starry skies above.

Chapter Twelve

Gavin

Today is the fourth day of the shoot and I am nervous as to how it will go.

Last night was one of the best times I have had in a while. We didn’t do anything extravagant—a nice dinner, an ice cream cone, and a walk on the beach. Breezy conversation and a comfort that only comes with familiarity. It was better than any other night I have shared with a woman. And there is only one reason.

Cora.

Being near her again is like learning how to breathe for the first time in years. Sure, breathing happened while we were apart, but it was merely to exist until I found my way back to her. And it feels as if I have finally rediscovered her. I only hope she has managed to do the same.

During today’s shoot, we are supposed to be strolling through parts of downtown Dunedin. Me in some hoity-toity outfit while Cora walks five to ten paces behind me, snapping photos of me “looking casual” on the street. Looking casual in my world translates into walking along the sidewalk and turning to look at something with your profile or whole face toward the camera. But don’t look at the camera. Because looking at the camera is not natural, or so they say. Whatever.

It’s all ridiculous if you ask me. But that’s what the companies and consumers love. At least for this particular brand. The shoots for romance novels and risqué, they want your hungry eyes straight on. They want the consumer to feel as if you’re reaching out and luring them in.

So, after my morning walk on the beach and a shower, I dress in a linen short-sleeve, white button-up, a pair of khaki cargo shorts with more pockets than I’d ever fill and a pair of boat-style shoes. And don’t forget the chunky watch and dark-tint sunglasses. Each shoot’s ensemble hangs in plastic wardrobe bags in my closet, labeled, courtesy of my wonderful agent.

The only part of this whole ensemble I would use again is probably the sunglasses. They mask the sun better than any pair I have owned in recent years. Lucky for me, I get to keep everything from the shoot.

Alyson and I meet in the lobby and walk to her rental car, sliding in and driving off the beach. The shoot doesn’t start for a little more than an hour, so we agreed to grab breakfast nearby.

Once we are seated and place our breakfast orders, Alyson chimes in and starts asking about last night. I expect nothing less from her.

“So, how was dinner? Anything I need to be concerned over?” A look of genuine worry pinches her brow line.

“Dinner was good. She was worried at first, because she didn’t see you. But after we talked for a few, everything went well.”

“And I’ll ask again. Anything I need to be concerned over?” Alyson persists.

“Nope. Just two old friends, eating together and sharing good conversation.” Maybe if I say it enough times, I will start believing it myself. Because Cora and I will always be more than “old friends.”

“And there were no flashes going off anywhere? From your phone or anyone else’s?”

“I didn’t catch any. No one around here knows me as a model. The only people who know me are the few friends I have still living here.” If anyone recognizes me as a model while I’m here, shocked wouldn’t begin to cover it. Yes, celebrities live in the area. But this isn’t Los