"I know I shouldn't have, but I developed it. It wasn't mine, but there was a chance it was a piece of you, and I wanted to see it. I hoped it would give me snapshots of you from after I left."
"What was on it?"
He grabbed a manila envelope from the top of the table and held it up, making me walk to him in order to retrieve it.
My steps were cautious as I moved to where he stood, and my hands shook as I took the envelope from him. He seemed so restrained, so quiet, and it only served to heighten my fear over what he'd uncovered.
I closed my eyes and pulled the papers out, only opening them once I could see the entire picture at once. In front of me, in my hands, was a still shot of a flower. I studied it for a moment before moving onto the next. Photo after photo were shots of nature, vibrant-colored flowers, butterflies, all outside and lit up by the natural light of the sun. I recognized them immediately, but I couldn't stop flipping through long enough to speak, or even turn my attention to the silent man at my side.
Finally, I made it to the last one, and my breathing turned to shallow wisps of stale air. My fingers trembled as I held onto it, the paper shaking violently. A jubilant smile and eyes crinkling in genuine emotion. I almost forgot about this one until I stared at it, the memory rushing back to me at the speed of a freight train.
I'd held the camera against my chest and snapped away, not wanting Nolan to know I'd taken his picture. I had no way of knowing what the lens focused on without searching the viewfinder, but I had to take my chance. He'd been in his element, excitement filling his every feature as we wandered around his back yard. And here in front of me, in my hands, was the shot I'd captured so many years ago. The one I never got to see.
"You never developed them," he said from my side. His voice was low, yet it boomed around me.
I shook my head, needing a moment to compose myself before speaking. "I didn't want to remember. I thought I threw these away."
Finally, I moved my sight from the picture of Nolan to the man next to me. I studied him for a moment before glancing back to the paper in my hand, mentally comparing the two. Then I held the picture up in front of me, my gaze moving between it and Nolan.
"Smile." There were so many contrasts between the two, yet at the same time, an overwhelming sense of familiarity. I needed to find out what it was I saw, pinpoint it.
"It's no use, Novah."
"Dammit, Nolan. Just smile."
He did, but it was weak.
"No. A real smile. Think of something funny and laugh. Or pretend you're smiling for the camera. Please, just do this for me."
So he did. He gave me an honest smile, yet it was vastly different from the one in my hand. I desperately tried to remember what had him grinning so wildly in this picture, what had put that look on his face.
I closed my eyes.
"Does your mom like to garden?" I asked him. We were almost done taking pictures, and the thought of our time together ending left me sad. I wanted to get to know him on a more personal level.
He shrugged but didn't look my way. "She likes the look of it, likes to be around it, but she's not fond of doing the work herself. She has a guy who does all this for her."
"Must be nice," I muttered under my breath.
"Not really. I mean, sure, everything looks nice, but what pride does she actually have in it. You know?"
I shrugged, unsure of what to say. The last thing I wanted to do was insult his mother. "I'm sure she has lots to be proud of in her life … She doesn't need to trim her own roses to be fulfilled."
He turned to face me, squinting his eyes against the fading sun. My hands held my camera against my chest, my thumb hovering over the shutter release. He was so damn beautiful in that moment, and I wanted nothing more than to take his picture, capture it forever.
"I've always wanted to get married in a garden with bright flowers all around. I think it would be romantic."
A smile lit up his face and my thumb pressed the button. "You already have your wedding planned?"
"Everything but the groom."
My gaze locked with his, my mind coming back to the present as the prickles of nostalgia wore off. I glanced once more at the photo, scrutinizing his eyes, and then I glanced back up to the real version of him.
"I love you, Nolan."
There … right there, I saw it. The way his pupils dilated and then shrank to tiny pinholes. The twinkle in the deep green, the way they lit up and sparkled.
He started to shake his head, but I stopped him with my lips. My arms went around his neck, holding him closer to me, his heat consuming me. He'd always deny it, but he'd never convince me. I knew without a shred of doubt he was still inside, he was still there just waiting to come out. Just waiting for me to love him.
"How?" he asked once he broke away from the kiss. "How can you possibly look at that picture and still love me?"
"What do you see when you look at this?" I held the photo up in front of him.
His brow furrowed as he scrutinized it. "I see a kid, someone who has no idea what real pain is. Naïve and blissfully happy." He turned his attention back to me. "I see a stranger."
"And you hate him … "
"I envy him."
"Well, I bet if he were here, he'd be jealous of you."
Nolan's eyebrows pinched together, causing the space between them to form deep valleys of uncertainty.
With complete confidence, I said, "This boy clearly wanted to be loved. He was admired, he was desired by many girls, and envied by just as many guys. To the world, he had everything. But I'd bet my life savings he didn't have the one thing he truly wanted. He didn't feel loved. And if he were here, he'd be jealous of you, because you have my love. All of it. You own it."
"If he were here, you'd love him."
I placed my hand over the center of his chest. "He is here … right here. And I do love him, but only because he's part of you. He's where you came from. But he gave up. He stopped fighting when things became tough. You … you're the one who fought. You're the one who survived. You're the one I love. The bad, the good, the ugly. The beautiful. Every fucking bit."
He grabbed my hips and pulled me against him before taking my mouth with his. His tongue pushed my lips apart and then mingled with mine. It was fierce, passionate, and desperate.
Consuming.
Inebriating.
His excitement pressed against my lower stomach, and when I tilted my hips into his, a groan rumbled through his chest, vibrating his lips on mine.
I pulled away enough to trail kisses from his chin to his neck, my hands eagerly exploring his chest. My lips followed the path of my fingers until I had to kneel to get lower.
Nolan grabbed my upper arms. "Don't." His voice was so strong, so powerful, it made me stop and lift my head enough to see his eyes.
But he didn't say anything else. He only shook his head while gently pulling on my arm to get me to stand. I knew his fear, though. It was evident in his intense gaze.
I closed my eyes and pressed my lips to his thigh through the material of his shorts, and then I wrapped my arm around the remaining part of his leg. The sound of him sucking in his breath filled the quiet space around us. However, nothing struck me as hard as the way his body shivered in front of me. The way it convulsed as if he had electricity coursing through his veins.
My fingers hooked beneath the elastic band of his shorts, and then I slowly pulled, revealing him one inch of skin at a time while I took it all in.
"Novah … " he whispered in a tight, strained voice. "Please stop. Please. I can't do this."
I locked eyes with him and then yanked the rest of the light material down until it settled on the floor. Not once did I remove my attention from his face, catching every spark of fear in his gaze, every line of worry on his brow.
I said I wouldn't push him.
I told him I'd be patient.
But I couldn't wait any longer. I couldn't fight my own passion. The desire to show him my love became too much to bear, and I had to trust this wouldn't break him. I had to believe he'd give in and let me love him. Without it, I'd likely be the one suffering in the end. The one with emotions and yearning locked away so tightly, it'd never be discovered again.
I took his hardened shaft in my hand and licked the bulbous tip. He hissed and leaned back even more, now practically sitting on the edge of the table.
"This doesn't freak me out, Nolan." I rested my palm on his left thigh. His muscles clenched beneath my touch. "I want you to know it doesn't have to scare you, either."
Stroking his long, hard erection with one hand, I explored his leg with the other, my lips millimeters away from coming in contact with his overheated skin. My heavy breaths billowed out, covered his flesh, and then washed over my face in waves of heat-mine mixed with his.