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

How the sun dips below the horizon and lights the sky in breathtaking pinks and oranges. We watched so many sunsets together before he left. No two the same. And each time, I watched him from the corner of my eye, captivated by his tranquility.

This is him. Pure and uninhibited.

And this photo may not be what the brand is looking for, but it is something I will never let go of. A piece of him. The real him. The Gavin I fell in love with all those years ago.

My finger strokes over the photo, the outline of his triceps and forearm. I sigh and drop my hand from the screen.

I am fucking hopeless. And screwed.

I save the photos to my external drive and shut down the computer. My head still in the clouds as I dream of Gavin in my life in ways he never has been. Jumping up from the bed, I startle Luna in the process.

“Sorry, Luna. Momma’s head is somewhere in la-la-land right now.”

I head for the bathroom and crank the hot water in the shower, praying the spray will snap me out of my thoughts. Thoughts which will more than likely lead down a fresh path of sadness and heartache. I should be trying to erase the daydreams running circles in my head, right? Erase them and replace them with Gavin’s inevitable departure. The more days that pass, the closer it gets to the end of the shoot. And the sooner this dream will fade away. Because that is all this is. A dream.

The parking lot of the bowling alley is packed. I wind up and down the rows in search of a vacant space, finally parking after I hit the fourth row. Jogging up to the entrance, I spot Shelly and Micah and slow when I notice they are in a heated conversation.

As I approach, Micah notices me and stops speaking, an artificial smile marking his face.

Great. I must have been the topic they were arguing politely about.

“Hey, Micah,” I say, laying the sweetness on a little thick. “Long time no see.”

Shelly bounds over to me and squeezes me as if I’m her lifeblood. Micah watches us, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth as he mumbles something unintelligible.

What the hell is his problem?

“Just ignore him. He’s pissed because he thinks you and Gavin will ruin his night of fun,” Shelly tells me before sticking her tongue out at her brother.

Not quite sure how he thinks us bowling together is going to disrupt his good time. And if I’m honest, I don’t really care about his feelings. I have seen Micah a couple times over the last year. About the same number of times I see him every year. And usually that is because I attend gatherings with Shelly where he happens to be also.

Whatever. He can suck it up like the thirty-one-year-old big boy he is.

“Micah,” I say, snagging his attention from the parking lot. “The only person that can ruin your night is you. So…”

In all his my-best-friends-big-brother glory, he salutes me with his middle finger. Asshole. And so immature. An outsider would peg him as the youngest out of all of us.

I loop my arm in Shelly’s and we skip into the bowling alley, ignoring the dipshit standing outside. We head over to the check-in counter, pay for shoes and receive our lane number. I shoot a text to Erin and Jonas, letting them know Shelly and I are inside and which lane number we are at.

Shoes laced up, Shelly and I go in search of the perfect bowling ball. When we return to the lane, Jonas is there and swapping his steel-toe boots for the snappy red and blue bowling shoes. He notices us step into the bowling circle and lifts his head up, a megawatt smile spreading his lips. I have missed his face this week.

“Hey, ladies. What time does galactic bowling begin?”

I wrap my arms around him, hugging him as hard as I normally do. “In about fifteen minutes.”

Just as I release him of the hug, I hear footsteps thunder behind me. I turn to see Micah and Gavin, and before I can greet Gavin, I stop myself. The relaxed and soothing demeanor Gavin has displayed toward me all week is nowhere to be seen. Instead, it has been replaced with ego and rage and maybe a hint of jealousy.

He needs to chill the fuck out.

“Gavin,” I sing, “this is Jonas. Jonas, this is Gavin.”

I wait for one of them to be the bigger man and offer their hand to shake. An eternity passes before Jonas rises from the plastic bucket-style seat and offers his hand. How did I know he would be the one to extend the olive branch? Maybe because he and I don’t share the same sort of history Gavin and I do.

“Hey, man. Nice to meet you. Cora’s told me a little about you.”

Gavin shakes his hand, his eyes sizing up Jonas in the process. “Has she now? And what, pray tell, has she told you about me?” His voice laden with sarcasm and authority and ownership.

For fuck’s sake. Put your dick away, Gavin. This is not the time or place.

“Just that you guys dated in high school and she hasn’t seen you in years. Until this week, of course. She said the shoot has been great, though.” Jonas’s tone is calm and collected. But his choice of words is meant to inflict guilt and envy.

Seriously? I do not want to be the center of some stupid pissing match. Why is it so difficult to be friends with men?

Gavin’s eyes narrow and I almost see the witty comeback he works hard to deliver. Everything inside me just wants this to stop, so we can have a few drinks, eat some greasy pizza, and play hours of black light bowling.

And just when I think Gavin might keep his mouth shut, he proves me wrong.

“It has been great. Nothing like spending several hours