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

Every coherent thought in my mind screams at me to tell him no. That we shouldn’t be doing things together as if we are a couple. At least not until this shoot is over and I know I’m not throwing my heart on the line. My brain fights with my heart—battles with my soul—and tells me to be rational, to think this through and understand the repercussions if something goes amiss.

But I ignore my brain. Tell it to shut the hell up and let me live in the moment. Because it has been so long since I have lived in the moment. Or lived life to its fullest. And I am tired of hiding—who I am and what I want. Tired of missing out on life and love.

“Yes.” It’s all I say. Because I don’t trust myself to say anything else right now. If I open my mouth, I may say words I said once before but should wait to say again.

His body comes alive and his expression mirrors a jubilance I have not seen in ages. It rolls off him in waves, piercing my aura and infecting me with a dose. I cannot help but smile at his behavior, his energy, his life force.

“Any requests? I’m open to whatever,” he says.

Feigning indecision, I tap a finger against my lips. If Gavin remembers anything about me at all, he would know my answer. But for good measure, I drag out my supposed thinking. When I feel I have sufficiently tortured him enough, I answer.

“Maybe we could grab some Asian,” I suggest, biting my lower lip.

A laugh rips from his throat as he shakes from head to toe. “I should have known that would be your answer,” he chuckles out. “Anywhere in particular you’d like to go?”

“How about I figure that part out, seeing as I’m more familiar with the area. Want me to pick you up?”

“It wouldn’t be a proper date if you’re the one picking me up. How about I meet you at your place and we drive from there?”

“Seriously? We’re almost thirty and it’s the twenty-first century. Women can pick up men for a date.”

He nods, his laugh sparking back to life. “I realize what era we live in, baby. Doesn’t mean I can’t try to be somewhat of a gentleman. Even if I don’t have my car with me. But I’ll find a way to get there, then you can take the helm.”

I walk to the driver’s side door, Gavin a step behind me with his hand on my hip. Opening the door, I toss my phone on the seat before turning to face him and say goodbye. When I turn, his face is a breath from mine. His lips hovering dangerously close and his eyes locked with determination. As he leans closer, my eyes close, my body ready and waiting to feel his lips on mine. Just as warmth paints my lips, Alyson honks the rental’s horn.

“Let’s go!” she hollers.

And just like that, she has plucked my last nerve today. I swallow it down and don’t let it ruin the moment.

Reluctantly, we pull apart. Our bodies now separated by feet rather than inches. But the vibrating energy between us remains. Almost like when we were teens and our parents walked in the room.

His hand squeezes my hip. “I’ll see you later, baby. Is five thirty okay?”

“That’s fine. See you then,” I say as he releases my hip and walks away.

Immobile, I watch as he gets into the car and Alyson backs out. He gives me a sweet half smile as they drive past me. The car leaves the lot, drives on the paved two-lane road and heads for the exit. It’s not until the car is out of sight that I slide into my car, start the engine and roll down the windows. And as I drive out of the park, my mind drifts over all the possibilities of what tonight means. For us. For our future.

This is really happening. The only person I have ever truly loved is back in my life. And he has promised to return to me. To stay with me. To keep me forever.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Gavin

Fuck if I am not excited about tonight. About the possibility of a future with the one person who has been tattooed on my heart for more than a decade. The one person I never want to be apart from again. The one person I cannot wait to spend every day of forever with.

The entire way back to the hotel, Alyson chews me a new asshole. Bitching and moaning about how I need to be more mindful in regards to my actions. Scolding me worse than any occasion my parents did. And how I better not forget I am under contract—with her, the clothing designer and the magazine. As if I need reminding. As if this is my first shoot.

I let her have her moment. Allow her to complain and reiterate the same shit on repeat. Spew the same garbage she has since the first day of the shoot. But when she finishes, I take it as a sign that I finally get a chance to speak. To tell her what is on my mind. To shut down her tirade.

“Alyson, you know how much I value your opinion and expertise. But there are a few parts of my life that are not what I pay you to handle. My love life is not part of your job and most definitely will never be a part of your pay grade. Do you understand?”

There is no plainer way to express this to her. I only hope she gets where I am coming from. That I am not trying to be a dick and just laying the basics out there. She needs to understand me being with Cora is permanent. She needs to get used to us being together and me living my life how