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

to this evening. Shelly and Jonas simultaneously gape at the stage before turning to stare at me. All of us thinking the exact same thing.

“You guys want to head out?” I ask, praying one of them will relieve us all from this new form of torture.

“It’s like you read my mind,” Jonas states. “You want to hang somewhere else?”

It was still early in the evening and I had only had a couple drinks. I wasn’t quite ready to say good night to my friends. “Yes. You want to go to another bar? Or we could hang at the house. Whichever you prefer.”

Shelly pipes up. “Let’s go to your place. We can stop and grab drinks on the way. Maybe watch a comedy on Netflix.”

“Cool with me,” I tell them both.

Bringing my beer to my lips, I swallow the remaining liquid and signal the server. When she steps up to the table, I ask her to pack my appetizer in a takeout box and bring us the check.

One more glance up at granny and I contemplate stopping at the grocery store across the street and raiding the cleaning products aisle. Is it a full moon? A new moon? Whatever celestial event is happening, it has definitely brought out the crazies tonight.

Will my eyes ever be wiped of this night? No. No they won’t.

Three beers and two shots in me later, and the three of us are laughing our asses off to Sausage Party on Netflix. It is a toss-up between Shelly and me on who is drunker. I would suggest we flip a coin, but I don’t think that will work out so well. We may have consumed equal amounts of alcohol, but her tolerance is higher than mine. Sometimes I envy her that. Either way, our inebriation is in full swing and life is good.

My eyes grow heavy and I lean more into Jonas’s body with each passing second. The warmth of his skin on my bicep adds a new flush to my skin. Like the sensation of a fresh sunburn. Hot, but not unbearable.

It would be easy. Tipping my head, a little more to the right, I could kiss him. Just like that. And I want to. I really want to. But even in my tipsy/borderline drunken state, I still hesitate. I still resist the urge.

Why do I always keep us in the friend zone? What the hell is wrong with me?

Pressing more weight into his side, I inhale deeply and absorb the scent that is pure Jonas. A strange blend of sunscreen and gasoline and grease. His scent so familiar and somehow appealing. Pleasant and comforting and—

“Cora?” he cuts off my thoughts, my name spoken like a prayer on his lips.

Tipping my head back into the couch pillows, my eyes wobble to his as I half-ass smile. “Jonas?”

The air grows heavy between us. The room quieter than I remember from thirty seconds ago. It is one-hundred-percent possible Shelly fell asleep on the blankets near my feet. But I can’t see her face, so there is no way to be certain.

“What are you doing?” His simple question comes out breathy.

My brows pinch together as I study his eyes. “What?”

He leans in closer, his lips inches from mine. “What are you doing?”

Was I doing something? I don’t remember anything from a couple minutes ago. Having him this close, though, makes me dizzy. Dizzy with desire. Dizzy for more than his lips a breath away from mine. But I also think the alcohol is working some serious voodoo on my organs right now.

A light sheen of sweat breaks out over my skin as my stomach gurgles. I scoot forward on the couch and take a slow, measured breath. My gut groans at me again and I have a feeling everything is about to head south really quick. Or would it be north?

“I don’t feel so good,” I tell Jonas.

The back of his hand brushes over my forehead and I catch a blip of relief before he removes it. “Cora, you’re kind of pale and clammy.” He rises from the couch and extends his hand out to me. “Let me walk you to your bed. I’ll grab you a cool cloth.”

Slipping my hand into his, he walks me the short distance to my bedroom. As I go to sit on the bed, nausea rolls through my core and I bolt up and run for the bathroom. This will not be pretty.

Thank the angel watching over me for allowing me to make it to the porcelain throne in time. Besides the fact that I am expelling the contents of my stomach, the one takeaway from this moment… Jonas is by my side, rubbing my back and holding my hair. He really is a great guy.

Chapter Two

Gavin

Why can I not walk through this fucking airport without people smacking into me?

Flying is bad enough. Mix that in with LAX during the early morning and my life is a new version of hell. Some woman with a stroller smacks into my arm while the child who should be in said stroller hangs limp at her side. Literally hanging. Under normal circumstances, I might tell the woman her little girl is adorable. But circumstances aren’t normal because the little girl is shrieking like a banshee. Limbs thrashing and kicking anything within reach. No doubt the entire terminal hears this girl.

Could the mom not just move out of the way and deal with her kid? Seriously. Why drag your kid around and make a show out of it? If it were my child, I would be embarrassed as hell.

“Gavin? Did you hear what I said?” Alyson asks through the phone pressed to my ear as I am about to knock some twenty-year-old prick out of the way. This whole situation is already shit. Is it everyone-get-in-Gavin’s-way day?

“Can you repeat that, Alyson? There’re more dicks than normal in the airport today.” I speak louder than necessary, hoping the dipshit hears me and gets out of