Behind His Lens (12 page)

“Did you grow up in Greenwich Village?”

Her eyes cloud over for a moment. “Nope. I lived on the Upper West Side until I went to Columbia and moved in with Naomi.”

“That’s where you guys met?”

“My first day on campus.” She smiles in recollection. “They paired us as roommates because we were both in the Finance program, but when she found out I was actually in Fine Arts, she flipped and threatened to swap.” She laughs, “She thought I was going to be some crazy hippie, doing drugs in the dorm and stuff.” She grins and glances up at me from under her lashes
conspiratorially. “Let’s just say that I wasn’t the one who partied the hardest that year.”

I laugh,
not surprised by her revelation. “I like Naomi. I think Bennett has completely fallen for her.”

She leans back in the arm chair, kicks off her boots, and tucks her socked feet up under her legs. The gesture seems so endearing
, but I can’t figure out why. Maybe because she would only do it if she was beginning to feel comfortable around me?

“Yeah. She seems pretty smitten with him too.”

“Poor saps.” I wink, and she rewards me with a bright, dimpled smile.

I cock my head to the side, “Y’know, I went to Columbia as well. That’s why I moved away from Boston.”

“Oh really? What did you study?”

“Photojournalism, but I’m twenty-
seven so I don’t think we were on campus at the same time.”

“Guess not. I’m only twenty-three.”

I wonder what the boys on that campus thought of her. It’s probably best we weren’t there together. I wouldn’t have let her go a single date with anyone but me.

She clears her throat, “Did you always want to be fashion photographer?”

Her question catches me off guard. I shake my head as memories buffet me from all sides— hungry children, bloody wounds, burnt villages. My fists instinctively clench around the armchair as I shove the thoughts aside.

“No. I stumbled into it two years ago and decided it could be a good fit. It’s easy work compared to what I used to do.” That’s all I’ll say. This entire conversation has been too good for me to bring up my demons now.

My subconscious shouts at me to change the subject
.

“I saw those paintings in your apartment. They were amazing. Is that what y
ou studied at Columbia?” I slide into asking about her art flawlessly, but she doesn’t answer right away. She eyes me skeptically, clearly aware of the forced transition. I know she sees the desperation written across my features, but no one wants to talk about heavy stuff on the first date. First date. Is this a date?

“Yes. I started painting after high school and lov…”

“Clarissa!” Someone shouts a few feet away from us, and Charley’s head snaps up to follow the sound.

“Clarissa!”

I stare at Charley, confused. The frat guy moving toward us definitely recognizes her and Charley’s wide eyed expression seems to say the same.

“Hudson?”
she asks with a confused scowl.

He doesn’t seem to mind her lack of enthusiasm.

“I can’t believe this. I haven’t seen you in five years and I run into you in this crappy coffee shop of all places?” I bristle at his assessment and Charley shoots me an apologetic glance.

“How have you been?”
she asks with an awkward smile.

“I’ve been so good. I’ve missed you though. The whole gang misses you.” The guy, Hudson, finally glances over at me but he seems to barely register my existence. My blood boils and I have to fight the instinct to stand up and force him to look at me.

Charley clears her throat. “Ah well. Hudson, this is Jude… a photographer I work with.” She gestures over to me and Hudson throws me a wave. The sonofabitch doesn’t even shake my hand. And what the hell,
“a photographer I work with?”
How about a friend at the very least?

His cheesy, country-club smile splits even wider when he realizes I’m not her boyfriend. “Oh yeah! I’ve seen you in tons of magazines. You’re even more beautiful than you were in high school, Clarissa.”

She blushes at his compliment and I crack my neck. It’s not something I ever do, but I want to deck this guy and I need something to do with my body so I don’t make a scene in front of Charley and the rest of the coffee shop.

When Charley doesn’t respond, Hudson continues, “You know, I’m glad I ran into you. I have a club opening up on Friday and I don’t have a date yet...” Oh,
fucking hell. Who does this guy think he is?

Charley rubs the back of her neck and bites her lip. Everything about her body language screams how uncomfortable she feels, but Hudson doesn’t even seem to notice.

“That’s so great, Hudson,” she coos with fake enthusiasm. How can he not tell?

“Why don’t you come?” His eyes flicker over to me with disdain, “And you can bring your
friends
too. I’ll put you guys in the VIP section and drinks will be on me, of course.”

He pointedly drags out friends as though his blanket term couldn’t possibly be
referring to me. No, he means fellow Upper West Side WASPs. This guy can’t be real.

Charley glances over at me with uncertainty in her eyes. What does she want? My approval? Does she want me to speak up and claim her? I’m your
photographer
, Charley, remember? I tip my brow and shrug before sipping my now cold coffee. It tastes like shit, but I need something to occupy my mind so I don’t have to watch her agree to go on a date with this douche bag.

“Um, okay. That sounds good, Hudson.”

Her words grate my heart and I squeeze the coffee cup so tightly that I think the ceramic might shatter beneath my fingers.

“Here, let me get your number and I’ll give you all the d
etails before Friday.” He grabs his phone out of his tailored chinos, and at that, I stand and leave to go to the bathroom. I can’t sit there and watch her accept a guy’s date while we’re having coffee.

“Jude?” Charley asks, her soft voice nearly breaking my heart. I almost didn’t turn around, but
for the fucking life of me, I can’t say no to the girl.

“I’m just running to the bathroom really quick.” I should leave. This is too much, but I swear the way she looks at me in that moment could melt the
ice caps. During her conversation with Hudson she never once showed him the amount of feeling she’s giving me with that one look.
There’s still hope.

CHAPTER NINE

Charley

“What the hell Charley!?” Naomi shouts through the phone.

“I didn’t want to be rude! What was I supposed to do?” I argue
, flipping through the pages of my sketch book, trying to simultaneously sketch and appease Naomi all at once.

I swear the groan she emits just then could be heard across the Atlantic.
“Tell him that you’re on a date with another guy and that it’s rude to ask you out like that!”

I huff, fal
ling back on my bed with a thud and scattering my sketchbook to the floor. I cringe thinking of the bent corners I’ve just caused.

“Jude never said it was a date! And I tried to get him to look at me, to give me some sign that I should say no, but he shrugged it off. He didn’t care, a
nd I felt like a complete idiot, so I said yes.”

“What happened after Hudson left?”
she asks as if she’s a detective interrogating me under a harsh bulb.

I swallow and try to say the next sentence as calmly as possible. “I invited Jude to go with us to the club
. He said he’d invite a date and we could all go as a
group.
”

No, s
aying it slowly didn’t make the phrase sound any better out loud.

“
Which proves everything, Naomi. If he wants to invite a date then he isn’t upset that Hudson invited me.”

The sinking feeling in my stomach threatens to consume me as silence fills the phone line.
I focus on the world through my window, contemplating mind over matter. If I tell my stomach and my heart and my legs and my eyes and my ears to stop pining for Jude, shouldn’t I be able to do it?

“You’re a fool. He said that to protect himself. He wants you, or he wouldn’t have invited you to get coffee.
Which means you’re going to look freaking sexy tomorrow, and you’re going to prove to Jude that you want him and not dumb Hudson.”

“I don’t know, Na
omi… Last time I attempted that it didn’t turn out so well.” My cheeks still burn looking at the spot near my nightstand where I drunkenly stood and stripped for Jude. I should wrap caution tape around the spot like it’s a crime scene. Lord knows I’ve avoided the four by four square as though physical remnants of my pride lay concealed under the varnished wood.

I drag a hand feebly down my face, wishing Naomi would let me go back to sketching already.

“This is different, really. I’m going to leave work at noon tomorrow and use a few personal hours so we can go shopping. You just have that catalog shoot in the morning, right?”

“Yes,” I murmur, knowing her mind is already made up, and maybe she’s right. I haven’t purchased any new clothes in a while because I’ve been saving all of my money from my modeling. A new dress
would
be nice.

“Perfect,” she chimes happily. “Let’s meet at Barney’s around one, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

“And, Charley
… Do not give up yet. We’ll figure this out. He wants you. I know it.”

Her confident rallying speech makes me feel like
we’re in the middle of Rocky. I half expect her to show up outside of my door in a moment with boxing gloves and an iPod playing “Eye of the Tiger”.

…

Naomi and I are scrubbed, buffed, waxed, and plucked. There is not a strand of unwanted hair on either of our bodies, and the hair that’s
left
is lying in big, silky waves down our backs. After we found the perfect dresses in Barneys, we treated ourselves to a spa day and got our hair and makeup done. It’s been ages since I’ve pampered myself and I feel sexy. Too sexy. But Naomi assures me the dress isn’t too much. Obviously, I don’t believe her, but I’m rolling with it because even
I
think I look edible.

My gorgeous cream, lace dress has three-quarter length sleeves and a plunging v-neck.
It has a tank dress lining and a sheer, open back. The tight dress hits my legs literally a few inches under my ass, but it’s practically vacuum-sealed to my body so I don’t have to worry about the cool fall air exposing my underwear, or lack thereof. The dress is too tight for anything other than a tiny thong, but at least my lady parts are covered. I just won’t be doing any bending over at the club. Naomi, bless her gorgeous self, has the same size feet as me and let me borrow her four inch, nude Louboutin pumps to finish off the look.

“This is going to be such a good night,”
Naomi declares from the other side of the cab’s back seat. I turn toward her and smile.

“I love that lipstick color on you. Especially when everything else is so
nude.
” She wiggles her eyebrows playfully and I laugh.

“It’s call
ed Heat Wave. They used it on me at my photo shoot the other day so I picked some up on my way home.”

“Mmm…You look like a sex vixen,” Naomi mocks in a horrible Russian accent, making me laugh even more. The cab driver eyes us skeptically through the rear view mirror, and I can’t stop the giggles from taking me over. I’m completely giddy with the anticipation of seeing Jude soon. I don’t care that he’ll have a date. I just want to look at him. Know he’s real. That a guy is
actually
that sexy. I loved our conversation on Wednesday. It felt so natural to sit with him like that, tucked away in the corner of a coffee shop.

Naomi’s phone vibrates in her hand
and her chocolate brown waves conceal her face as she bends to check it. “The guys just got there,” she says, reading off her text message.

“Cool,” I say, feigning calmness as I glance through the cab window. “Guess I should let Hudson know I’m on my way,” I mumble, even though that’s the last thing I want to do.

Naomi checks her
lipgloss in her small silver compact before stuffing it back into her clutch. “I’m glad it’s cold enough for coats. That way, when we get inside the club, we can take them off and make a
real
entrance.”

I smile, shifting my gaze back toward her. “Why am I not surprised that Miss Drama Queen would love a grand entrance?”

She winks at me and slings her coat open to reveal her long-sleeve, black bodycon dress. “Please. With dresses like these,” she points her finger between both of us, “you can’t
NOT
have a dramatic entrance.”

I shake my head slowly, “Remind me to sign you up for a reality show when we get home. You’d be a celebrity in no time.”