Page 7 of Naughty Nicky

I hesitate to answer because I really don’t want to. I honestly prefer not talking at all, but if she is going to be stuck in my home, I feel like I am going to have to talk to her at some point.

“I didn’t think you wanted to be here either. Your brother said you were traveling the world.”

She glares at me. “Don’t think I didn’t see what you did there. But because I am an open book, I will share with you.”

I give her a knowing smirk then let her continue.

“I am only here to get back on my feet before I step out for my next adventure. And it’s a lot easier to get back on your feet when you can live rent free at your parents’ house.” She pauses to take a sip of her tea. “But I miss the open road. I miss seeing things that you can only see in certain places. Seeing the way people live in different parts of the world is one of my favorite things. Immersing myself in the culture of others, its mind-opening, and I want to go back so bad.”

“Why don’t you?”

A frown falls over her face, but she quickly covers it up with a smile. “Money. Isn’t that what everything comes down to these days?”

“I suppose it does.”

“Well anyway,” she huffs. “We ran out of money. And then…” she trails off with a look of hurt on her face, and I know it was more than just the money. “Well then I ended up back here,” she says with a smile.

I study her as she turns back toward the fireplace and wonder who hurt her. Because I know from that look in her eyes that money wasn’t the only reason she stopped traveling, there was definitely another reason.

“So, what about you?” she asks me.

“What about me?” I raise a brow at her.

“What has Nick Snow been up to the last six years? Last time I saw you, you had just graduated from NYU, and you were looking to get out of this town.”

“I’ve been working, building up my photography business.”

“Here?”

I shake my head. “No back in New York City.”

“And how did that go for you? I always remember you carrying a camera around and taking shots of my brother doing snowboarding tricks.”

I laugh at that. “Well, I moved past being a sports photographer. Never really was what I wanted to do. I actually do street photography now and have signed a few contracts do some documentary photography.”

“That’s exciting! So, you get to share people’s stories through photos?”

I nod and run my hand over my head. “Yeah, I find people complex and interesting and being able to capture them in moments they don’t realize are happening has always been one of my favorite things.”

Penelope lights up at that. “I want to see!”

“See what?”

“Some of your photographs, you dummy. I want to see the world through your eyes.”

I chew on my lip, not really sure if I want to show her my studio. I don’t know why I hesitate. My pictures have been hung up in galleries around the world, but for some reason this seems more personal.

“Oh, come on,” she says as if sensing my hesitation. “I won’t judge your artistry that hard.”

I nod and stand up. “All right, I guess I can show you what I’ve been working on.”

A smile breaks across her face, a giddiness taking over her.

I lead her down the hall of my home and nod toward one of the doors. “I have a darkroom there to develop the photographs that I don’t take digitally.”

“You still use real film?”

“At times. Depends on my mood and the story I want to portray. Sometimes I think raw pictures show so much more emotion and depth than edited photos. There is something more real about them.”

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