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

“Next time,” I promise.

Another round of silence ensues as the woe-is-me guy leaves the karaoke stage. I cross my fingers under the table, hoping the next person is better and more upbeat. And as I watch a pair of ladies walk up to the stage, each grabbing a mic and whispering to each other before the music kicks in, I hope my prayers will be answered.

Seconds later, “Bootylicious” by Destiny’s Child crackles in the air and the two begin singing. They aren’t horrible, but also not great. But at least the way they are shaking their asses onstage is entertaining. I laugh lightly and keep my eyes on the stage.

“You make it home okay last night?” Jonas’s voice breaks my trance on the singing duo. And when I peer over at him to speak, guilt riddles me at the concern stretched over his face. Normal me would have let him know I made it home safely. Normal me was absent last night.

Since the day Jonas and I met, there has always been an easy way about us. Jonas is a great guy. Genuine and thoughtful and kindhearted. He knows how to have fun and make people laugh. And there is no denying I like him. But nothing more could ever happen between us. It wouldn’t be fair to him if I couldn’t be all in. That and his former relationship statuses.

“Yeah,” I mumble. “Gavin drove me home in my car.”

He nods, slow and steady, as his eyes stay fixed on his plate. Although his head is down, I notice the twitches in his expression. The flickers of emotion he doesn’t want on display. And it’s a stab to the heart that he doesn’t want me to know what he feels or thinks.

Please look at me. Don’t shut me out. That is what I want to say to him, but I stop myself. I don’t want to send him mixed messages. Say words that mean one thing but could be interpreted in some misconstrued way.

Jonas and I have been friends for years now. I don’t have many male friends or acquaintances—not on purpose—and I can’t imagine having a better guy friend than him. Things with Jonas… nothing is complicated or artificial. What you see is what you get. And that is not a bad thing. I never have to question our friendship or who he is or what his motives are.

He is sweet and funny and would go out of his way to help a stranger. Having him in my company has never been weird. And although I know things have shifted a little between us, he would do anything for me. As I would for him. Like a true friend.

“Can I ask you something?” Jonas asks. Erin and Shelly sit across from us, chatting separately.

“You know you can,” I tell him. Because it’s true. I don’t hide who I am from people I trust.

“What’s going on with you and Gavin?” His face serious. More serious than I have seen it over the years.

“Not sure what you mean. He’s the model I’m shooting right now.”

In actuality, I know exactly what he means. Where his question is directed. He wants to know the history between us, and how that affects things now. I have no intention of lying to Jonas, but I don’t want to spew word vomit and overshare information he doesn’t want to hear. There is no need to dredge up things better left behind.

He cocks his head and studies my face a moment. “You know that’s not what I mean. There’s something else going on between the two of you. Am I right?”

I have no clue. God, I wish I knew the answer. The seesaw of emotions makes me nauseous. “Maybe. But I don’t know,” I say with a shrug.

His bluish-hazel eyes bore into mine as he tries to read the words left unsaid. Under the table, his knee brushes against my leg and I close my eyes as the contact sends a rush of jitters through my chest. There is no use in denying my attraction to Jonas. After all, he is easy on the eyes and looks at me as if no other woman walks the earth.

What woman doesn’t want a man like that? Someone who only sees her.

The music fades into the background as his knee stays pressed against me. My eyes remain closed and my food forgotten. His weight shifts against me, his knee sliding higher up the outside of my thigh as I feel him lean into me. My breathing picks up as his rough stubble grazes against my cheek. What is he doing? I might just have a heart attack in the middle of the bar.

His breath is hot on my ear and I stop breathing altogether. “I hope not,” he whispers. “Because that wouldn’t bode well for me.” And then he kisses me below the ear, trailing two more below it before pulling away.

Damnit. I am so royally fucked.

My heart hammers against my rib cage while my lungs try to remember how to work. His knee slides back to where it was moments earlier, but still touches me. The three spots where his lips touched my skin singe and sting, as if branding me with his essence.

The idea of opening my eyes scares the hell out of me. I’m scared of what I will see and feel and possibly realize. The overwhelming sensation has crept into my veins many times, but I purposely shove it down. Emotions and thoughts that tell me it is okay to like Jonas more than a friend. That it’s okay to want someone other than the boy—now man—who holds my heart prisoner.

God, what do Shelly and Erin think of me right now? As I sit on this stool and fight the urge to kiss a man I have thought about kissing countless times, but stopped myself because my heart steps up to the plate.

I take a deep breath and harness every ounce of bravery