Page 119 of The Photograph

“Holy shit.” I can see the pain in Alex’s face as he takes this in. “Maybe that explains a lot,” he says.

46

DES: KOREA

Standing in the kitchen by the exit to the apartment, I check my phone and wallet as Mitzi watches us with her head on her paws: She hates being left behind. Alex peers at me over his glasses before pulling down the front of his suit jacket and picking a speck of dust off it.

“How do I look?”

I tip my head on one side and smile at him, then step forward and hook him around the neck, kissing his cheek.

“Like the hottest boyfriend in the world.”

He steps back and rubs his face, peering at his hand, my lips. “I can’t chat to everyone this evening with lipstick on me.”

I laugh. “Maybe it would set a new trend. After tonight, the trends are going to be all about you.”

Tipping his head back, he studies the ceiling. “Stop, okay? I’m nervous enough. I don’t need you …” He flaps a hand at me.

“What? Being myself?” I pout, but his gaze softens.

“Just don’t give me anything else to stress about,” he says quietly.

Saluting, I say, “How do I look as the photographer’s muse?” I place my hand behind my head and stick my hip out in my best Marilyn Monroe pose.

He tsks. “You know you always look amazing.”

My black grungy ripped jeans and chains and a tight charcoal vest that shows off my arms are a sharp contrast to Alex’s sharp suit. He trails his hand down my bicep, and a shiver runs through me.

“All this working out you’ve been doing …”

“Don’t stroke me or I will pick you up and take you straight back to bed.”

He grins at me and shakes his head.

“Shall we go?” I say.

It’s already hit zero degrees tonight, so we bundle ourselves into big, padded coats. And Mitzi whines at us so I stoop down to fuss over her. I still can’t believe how easy it was to ship her over here.

Once we’re in the elevator, I examine his pale face. “This is going to be great.”

My eyes snag on his ear piercing. If Korea has been good for my career, then it seems to have unleashed something in Alex. The shy boy I met eleven months ago has morphed into something else entirely. He’s still quiet, but even before we arrived in Seoul, he had meetings lined up with all the top financial companies. And despite the debacle at his old job, where he ended up with a decent payout and an apology, working for one of the top firms in New York had people here snapping at his heels to bring him on board. Now he’s earning almost twice his previous salary, even though he told them during interviews that he only wanted to work four days a week. True to his word, the other three days he has been out traveling the city and photographing everything. Photographing me. He’s gone to courses and networked and met people, all culminatingin a meeting with a guy who ran a gallery. Where his show is tonight.

Physically he’s changed, too. He admired my arms, but if anything he’s been training harder than me, like he’s determined to throw off the last vestiges of whatever he felt he was escaping from in New York. Alongside the piercing, there are several very hot tattoos: they’re small and discreet and include a Korean one on his neck behind his ear that I like kissing. It means “North Star” in Korean because apparently, that’s who I am to him. I press my hand to my chest. I found him on a cheesy app—that seems like a crime—but I’m eternally grateful to my confused self for responding. Alex has said he wants our time here to be incredible, and the ink is his reminder to always make life amazing. His look has gone AWOL, too, wilder and edgier, and dear God I am loving watching him blossom. My ribs expand.I get to be his support guy. And I want him to achieve everything in this world he wants to.

He turns toward me. “It’s a big deal tonight, okay? I want to make it in this industry.”

I squeeze his hand. “I want that, too,” I say, as his brown eyes meet mine. “Oh! Talking of which, I emailed some of the images from the show to Jo.”

His jaw drops. “You didwhat?You sent practically pornographic photographs of you and me to Jo?”

The elevator pings, and he steps out, shaking his head as I follow him across the cool gleaming glass of the foyer to the cold street outside.

“It’s your art! And by the way Jo loved them, but even more importantly,Janusloved them. He rang me to ask about buying two of the pieces, but also to see if we’ll fly back to New York so you can take pictures of baby Phillips.”

“What?”

Grinning, I add, “All expenses paid, business class.”

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