Page 83 of Victorious: Part I

The simple observation shouldn’t make me feel so warm inside, but it really,reallydoes. “Years of internet and social media obsession finally paying off,” I joke, though I can’t help adding, “But I’m not just some kid who needs babysitting. I’m here. Working, you know?”

The corner of his lips turns up in the most delicious way. “I’m starting to see that.” There’s something in his tone, in the way he’s looking me up and down—Jesus, is he biting his lip?My stomach flips dramatically, and my knees begin to wobble, so I turn back to my camera quickly, pretending to adjust settings that absolutely donotneed adjusting.

“The marketing campaign, how does all this fit in?” he asks, moving closer to look over my shoulder at the viewfinder.

I’m suddenly aware of how close he is, the warmth of his breath on my neck.

Why does he smell so damn good?

Forcing myself to focus, I scroll through the images on my camera. “It’s for a travel company that specializes in off-the-beaten-path road trips,” I explain, grateful to talk about something concrete. “They want to showcase all these hidden gems between major destinations. The idea is to make the journey as exciting as the destination itself.”

I step away from the tripod, getting some much-needed distance between us, and gesture to the bottle trees. “Most people driving to Vegas just see it as this stretch they have to get through. But there’s all this weird, beautiful, and wonderful stuff along the way. My job is to make people want to slow down and take the unseen route.”

Phoenix nods thoughtfully. “Makes sense. Why go on a vacation and not see everything there is to see.”

“Exactly! I’m trying to create content that feels authentic, not overly polished. Like you’re seeing it through the eyes of someone experiencing it for the first time.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “That’s why I need to physically be on the road, actually seeing these places for the first time and giving them arealperspective.”

“And that’s where I come in,” Phoenix says. “Your glorified chauffeur.”

I roll my eyes. “More like my unwilling adventure partner.”

He gives me a look I can’t quite read. “I never said I was unwilling, Clo. In fact, quite the opposite, remember?”

I turn away quickly, busying myself with my equipment again. “I need a shot of myself walking through that section there,” I say, pointing. “Would you mind filming me?”

“Uh, sure. I don’t really know what the hell I’m doing, though.”

Turning back to face him, I move the camera in front of him. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you can handle it,” I tease, then proceed to show him how to use the camera, and he listens intently. For someone who’s supposed to be this tough biker, he’s surprisingly careful with my equipment, his hands steady as he adjusts the focus.

“Just keep me in frame and follow as I walk,” I instruct.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies with a mock salute.

I walk slowly through the bottle trees, letting my hand trail along some of the lower-hanging bottles, looking up at the sunlight streaming through the colored glass. I feel Phoenix watching me through the lens, and something about that awareness makes me both self-conscious and bold at the same time.

When I check the footage afterward, I am surprised by how well he captured it.

“Not too shabby,” I tell him. “You might have a future in cinematography if this whole biker thing doesn’t work out for you.”

He snorts. “I’ll keep that in mind and make sure to put this on my resume. Maybe it will dull the fact I’ve been a member of two 1% clubs. One of them was practically a murderous cult, and the other is about to go into a war with a Cartel and may not even be there when we get back. Nothing says ‘hire me’ like the threat of illegal activities. But hey, I’m damn good at filming stuff if you need it.”

Raising my brows, I stare at him, not knowing how to respond to that. He must sense my apprehension because he chuckles, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Shit, I need to work on my delivery. That was averybad joke. See, I told you I’d have to make another apology.”

Shaking my head, I let out a heavy breath. “Wow, man. That shit was dark. You have someseriousrepressed issues about your old club, huh?”

He clears his throat, glancing around at the bottles and artwork. “So, ah, do we need more, or are we good to go?” he deflects.

Weakly smiling at him, I glance around, seeing there’s still so much more I can film here. “Is it okay if I do some more?”

“You’re the captain of this ship. Lead the way, Reel Girl,” he states with a cocky smirk.

Furrowing my brows at him, I let out a small chuckle. “What did you just call me?”

“You know, reels, like on Insta and stuff. Reel Girl, ’cause you’re doing the social media… thing,” he hesitates on the last few words, his brows creasing. “Do I need to apologize again?”

Smirking, I don’t reply. I just turn from him, and we walk off back to the bottles, where I film a few more sequences. Phoenix doesn’t rush me or act bored. He just watches, occasionally offering to hold something or move something for me. At one point, he even spots a perfect shot I hadn’t noticed—a place where the bottles create a kind of tunnel of colored light.

“That actually looks really fucking cool,” he admits when I show him the footage.

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