Picture Perfect (17 page)

Unless he’s trying to screw with you.

Angry, I snatched the ten-dollar bill up and stuffed it into my boot before I ripped it in half in a fit of blind rage. I
hated
when men - or anyone - tried to play me. Just because I had a pretty face didn’t mean I was without feelings or a brain.

Still, as I walked onto the main floor, I couldn’t help but wonder why he’d bothered coming here, and if I should trust either Thompson.

CHAPTER 19

Devin

THE PAST WEEK HAD
been blissfully Brayden-free. I hadn’t realized what a blessing being kicked off the hockey team was until I no longer had to deal with my little brother’s hate, no matter how well-placed I thought it was. I could only say sorry so many times, paying for it with a guilty conscience and lost sleep.

By the time my photo shoot with Ang
el rolled around, I was so worn-out I almost forgot my equipment at home, and had to drive back across town to get it, making me late. I texted her, saying I’d be there in about fifteen minutes, and then hightailed it back to my apartment and then to our rendezvous.

The parking lot was fairly empty, considering it was a weekday and school was still in session.
As I parked and got out, I fumbled with my equipment, nearly dropping my keys because my hands had started sweating. What would Angel say when she saw me? Was she as much of a nervous wreck as I was, or could she really forget about our kiss so easily? Thinking of her had become my one emotional safe house, the only person I could think of who chased all my fears and pain away.

Downing a deep, steady breath, I walked inside the building.

I thought seeing her again would dredge up renewed pain, the kind that spoke of doomed love and relationships that would never work out. But as I showed them my photographer’s pass - thanks, Dad - and walked into the hall, spotting her by the jellyfish tank, all my doubts vanished. It didn’t matter if I couldn’t have her. Having her near, in my life, was enough.

Her face was outlined by a soft blue glow from the tank lights, turning the few curls that hung around her face bronze. I wanted to photograph her right there, but she turned and looked at me, smiling. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I said, smiling back and setting down my things. “Sorry I’m late. I forgot all my cameras at home.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. I don’t have any studying or homework to do tonight.”

As I unpacked my lenses and stands, I caught her studying me, as if she were trying to read my mind. “What?” I asked lightly.

She blinked, then shook her head. “Nothing.”

“You like jellyfish?” I asked, gesturing to the tank as I began setting my things up.

“Yeah.” She turned her attention back to the floating blobs of pink. “There’s something calming about watching them, hovering in the water like that, like they don’t have a care in the world.”

“Bastards.”

She snorted. “Leave it to you to ruin a perfectly good moment.”

The word
ruin
stuck in my head, making me falter as I nearly dropped my lens.
Isn’t that what you do, Devin?
my brother said in my head.
Ruin things?

Her brows furrowed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. It was supposed to be a joke.”

I faked a smile. “I know. So, you want to shoot some pictures by the jellyfish first?”

“Okay,” she said, seeming to brighten up.

I watched her unbutton her sweater, revealing a thinner long-sleeved shirt with orange stripes. The orange really stood out against the blue lighting and made her hair seem more tangerine-colored. It was perfect -
she
was perfect.

“Where you want me, boss?” she said with a flirtatious smile.

In my arms or underneath me.
“Right there will be fine,” I said, pulling myself out of my lusting.

She twirled a strip of hair around her finger, as if unsure what to do. I took the opportunity to snap a picture.

Her mouth dropped open. “Hey! I wasn’t ready yet.”

“Could have fooled me.” I winked at her, and she pressed her lips together, suppressing a smile. I brought the camera up to my face, finger poised over the shutter release, then dropped it again. “I don’t think you realize how beautiful you are. Girls like you are born ready for the camera. You don’t have to strike a pose to look stunning.”

She stared at me with an expression I couldn’t quite pin down because it contained so many different emotions at once - surprise, hope, pride.

Fear.

I blinked, bringing the camera back up. “Just act natural, like you would when coming here. Think less sexy and more pensive.”

“Pensive. Got it.”

It didn’t work. I thought this had less to do with her not trying, and more to do with the fact that she was one of those rare creatures who looked sexy no matter what she was doing. Hell, she could probably climb out of bed, with her hair sticking up in sixteen different directions, and make that look hot.

We snapped some shots by the jellyfish column and the surrounding tanks of sea
horses, starfish, and other brightly colored tropical fish before moving to the big glass tunnel that made you feel like you were literally walking several hundred feet below the ocean’s surface. Schools of fish swam overhead as we meandered along. “You ever thought about becoming a model? I mean, professionally?”

“Me?” Angel pointed to herself, her eyebrows raising.

“Yeah, you.” I playfully shoved her with my elbow. “Is that so hard to believe?”

She shook her head, her face scrunched up in amusement. “I guess I’ve never really considered it before.”

“You should. You’re a natural at it. Even if you only do it part-time, it’d be a nice source of side income.”

And it would mean the possibility of getting to see you more.

I frowned. We had about a month until the exhibition, meaning I only had about three more weeks with her. And the thought of losing her, of never seeing her again, made me feel dead inside.

You barely know her.

No
, I told my conscience.
She’s the only person I feel like I’ve ever really known.

“I’m not sure my future principal and boss will approve of my modeling on the sidelines,” she said, though she couldn’t hide the excited sparkle in her eyes.

“There are more types of models than just those who do full body shots like we’re doing. You could be a parts model, where they shoot your hands, your feet, your legs, and so on. Nobody would ever need to know it was you.”

She hugged herself when I mentioned her legs, that glimmer evaporating from her eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

I stared at her. What did I say that made her close up like that? There was absolutely nothing wrong with her legs. They were thirty-six inches of sheer perfection.

“So are you excited about your exhibition?” she asked, changing the subject.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s the thing they’ve been training us for our entire college careers, that defining moment when we’ve moved on from being students to professional photographers. I thought I was ready, but now that it’s here, I feel like I don’t know a damn thing.”

She paused, thinking. “You sure you
’re just not scared to move on and see what’s out there?”

I considered it. “Yeah, maybe. What about you? You seemed really excited about student teaching next year, even though it’d scare the shit out of me. I’d probably end up smacking some kids around. Just kidding,” I added at her horrified expression.

She relaxed, grinning, then cocked her head to the side. “Yeah, I am. But I can see how it’d be scary. Sometimes I wonder if I’m ‘together enough’ to do this.”

I smiled politely, encouraging her to continue.

“Like, I’m a freaking teacher who’s an exotic dancer on the side. All the other people in my class look at me like I’m some kind of scum.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

She looked at me with surprise, and I shrugged. “Screw them. Are they your friends?”

“No, not exactly.”

“Then that pretty much means no. They have no right to judge you. They don’t even know you.”

One of her brows rose. I was even surprised by the ferocity in my tone. “I mean,” I continued, “you’re some kind of brilliant if you ca
n work a full time job and manage to maintain a high enough GPA to keep that scholarship you get through The Fox Hunt
.
I don’t think I could ever possess that kind of work ethic. It’s amazing… you’re amazing.”

She blushed, shaking her head with a shy smile. “It’s just what I’ve always had to do - work my ass off. I’m no more special than a lot of people out there.”

I smiled at the glow of pride on her face. “You’re not used to people bragging on you, are you?”

“It’s not that, not exactly. My mother just always taught me to be humble.”

“Your mother sounds like a nice lady.”

That glow faded, replaced by sadness. “Yeah.”

I didn’t like that look on her. I needed - wanted - my Angel to radiate happiness. “So,” I said, clearing my throat and snapping a shot of her, “do you think you’ll work at The Fox Hunt next year to stay in the tuition assistance program?”

Her gaze downright darkened. “I might not be able to go to school at all next year.”

I lowered the camera. “What? Why?”

She explained the fancy scholarship she was up for, along with the committee’s refusal to give it to her should she continue working as a dancer.

“But that’s bullshit!” I said. “You have to make money somehow. How you choose to do it is none of their business.”

She sighed. “I know, but that’s not how they see it. T
hey’re a bunch of bluehairs who are looking for a young lady, and to them, I’m not it.”

She plopped down on a bench shaped like coral, staring at her hands in her lap, her shoulders slumped forward. I’d never seen anyone look so deject
ed and hopeless.

Except maybe me.

Setting my camera down, I took a seat next to her. “I meant what I said earlier, about you being a kickass model. If I get hired on anywhere at the end of the year, I’d be happy to mention you. Maybe it would get you some work off a stage. And if you want, I’d be happy to hire you myself for more work.” Those last few words had trouble leaving my mouth, thanks to the sudden onslaught of nerves that made me feel like a ten-year-old asking a girl out on the playground. “Hey.”

She looked at me, those gorgeous green doe eyes of hers hopeful.

I stared at her for a second, struck silent by her beauty, then smiled. “It’s going to be okay.”

She smiled back. “Thank you, Devin,” she said softly.

It was the first time she’d said my name. It sounded wonderful leaving those full red lips, parted ever so slightly, as if inviting me to kiss her.

I leaned toward her, our shoulders brushing. The girl was like a fucking magnet. Abr
uptly, she shifted her position and leaned away from me. I blinked and straightened, disappointed.

What did you expect? She already told you once she’s only interested in a professional relationship, and you promised to give that to her.

“So how are things with Brayden?” she asked, swinging her feet under the bench. She didn’t look at me as she said it, more tentative and curious than concerned. It was odd, but I brushed it off.

“Oh, the usual,” I said casually, standing and grabbing my camera. I told her about my mother’s disastrous birthday party, up to where Brayden had hurled a glass into the wall. I left out th
e part about the picture frame and Delia. It felt nice to finally talk about it with someone. Erik had been absent lately. He’d practically dropped off the face of the earth since Sapphire - or Tammara, I guess her name was - entered his life. I’d been keeping it locked up, letting my hurt and my anger fester inside me like a disease. “Words heal,” my mom once said. I thought it was bullshit at the time, but damn if she might have been right.

“Wow,” Angel said, brows rising. “Why is he so mad at you?”

“He has his reasons.”

“What happened?”

There was the concern, the genuine caring in her tone. The story I hadn’t told anyone but Erik and Darcy almost spilled out of my mouth, but I firmly shoved it back down. I couldn’t bare my soul to her like that, not yet. I couldn’t risk losing her too if she thought the worst of me and decided to leave.

Just like everyone else.

“An accident,” I said grimly. “You ready to shoot some more?”

Her face fell, like she was expecting a different answer, but she nodded and drew her legs up. “Sure. Fire away.”

I lifted the camera and zoomed in on her face, snapping a picture. I did various angles, neither of us speaking, until my lens landed on a weird, jagged curve on her leg. As if sensing where I was looking, she reached down and pulled on her tights, smoothing them out. That weird line, the ridges illuminated by the blue glow of the tank, didn’t leave.