“Because you’re smiling,” I answered honestly. I had a feeling too many lies had been told within the walls of this large house. I wasn’t about to add to them.
Not now, hopefully not ever.
“Why is it so important to you?” she asked. I took a step forward to glance over her shoulder. I watched her tense slightly as she felt my approaching presence but she didn’t move.
“Why is it so important for you to hide it from me?” I fired back.
“Maybe I’ve wasted enough smiles on you.”
“Fair enough. But it’s still something I aspire to see,” I answered softy, taking the photo from her fingers and repinning it to the board.
“I thought you got rid of all those photos,” she spoke up, turning around, brushing the sleeve of my shirt as she did. “The ones of us, I mean,” she clarified.
“I did—or at least I thought I had, but I found that one lying on the bedroom floor. Seems it managed to find its way out of the box I threw it in. That—or a very sneaky, super nosy ex-therapist of mine placed it there.”
“Ex?” she questioned, but hardly seemed surprised.
“He’s refusing to charge me anymore—keeps meeting me at restaurants and showing up at my door for beers. So yeah, ex-therapist, I guess.” I shrugged as I watched her continue to roam around the room. The faint red glow washed away most color, and the usually vibrant copper tone of her hair had transformed into something darker.
In here, there were no in-betweens. No middle tones. Just reds and blacks. I wasn’t processing so I could flip the overheads on and bathe us in white light, but here, in this space, I loved the contrast—the separation from normalcy.
Seeing her here, though, made me suddenly aware of just how erotic a darkroom could be. Every curve of her body was accentuated, enhanced by the lack of color and the stark red glare. Her lips appeared heavy, as if they were begging to be touched and caressed along with the rest of her body.
I needed to get out of the room.
“Will you show me how it works?” she asked, looking up from the main table I’d assembled in the middle, where the processing trays and enlarging equipment were set up.
“Really?” I asked, an equal mixture of dread and excitement running through my veins.
“Yeah, I mean—I don’t really want to go home yet, and we don’t have anything else to do.”
“Sure,” I answered quickly, hardly delaying the decision I’d just told myself to flee.
I truly hated myself. That or I really was the asshole she thought me to be.
Because damn if I didn’t think of bending her over every hard surface and reacquainting myself with every inch of that luscious body I seemed to have forgotten.
“—her name?” Everly’s voice yanked me back to reality. Catching the end of a question I’d barely heard, I blinked a few times, trying to clear salacious thoughts from my mind.
“What did you say?” I asked.
“What’s her name?” she repeated. “Your date?”
“Oh, um—” my mind searched— “Magnolia,” I finally answered, busying myself as I gathered the proper equipment to develop. She watched me intently from the other side of the table.
“Interesting name,” was all she said.
A small smirk tugged at my lips. “Her mom used to be a florist over in Half Moon Bay. She grew up on the coast so she’s really looking forward to seeing the house.”
“I’m sure her childhood home wasn’t quite like this,” she commented, running her fingers along the cool plastic table as her eyes met mine.
“No, but not all of us can be related to a founding member of SunGlobal.”
Her eyes went wide. “I thought you said her mom was a florist! Not an heiress to a billion-dollar company!”
“I did—and I said she ‘used to be’. I didn’t say what her dad did,” I laughed.
She launched a pencil at my head and I managed to duck at just the right time. “Well, you better clean up before she comes. Don’t want the place to look like a dump for the princess.”
Was that jealousy I detected?
Don’t jump to conclusions. That will get you in trouble, August.
“I’ll do my best. So, ready to get dirty?” I asked, watching her eyes fly up to mine.
“What?”
“Hands—are you ready to get your hands dirty?” I clarified, clearly missing a key word in my sentence.
“Yes—lead the way,” she instructed.
“Okay, first we need to clean the negative, and load it into the carrier.” I handed her a cotton ball I’d just soaked with a little rubbing alcohol and the negative.