Page 7 of Obsessed

But Mason didn’t come back for over a month.

2

MASON

ThefirsttimeMasonsaw him was at the mall, a mundane place for such beauty.

Mason hated crowds, and most people, but the only photography shop he trusted sat in a corridor off the second floor and it was worth the risk. He wished he’d gone earlier in the day but he’d gotten caught up in the darkroom, and now he was weaving around too many bodies, his frustration building as four slow walkers casually strolled in front of him.

Eye twitching, Mason glanced at the cheesy art-deco fountain beside him and almost tripped over his own two feet.

An elfin prince sat alone on one of the benches in front of it, his long dark hair spilling around him, the light catching his impressive bone structure. Mason had never seen anyone like him and his fingers curled, aching to capture the sharp angles of that face and pry secrets from those gray eyes. But he didn’t talk to random people, so he trudged into the store. By the time he left, the prince had disappeared.

The second time Mason saw him was at home.

Allowing Ollie, a virtual stranger, to rent a room in the enormous house his grandmother had left him wasn’t exactly above board but it would help pay the lawyer bills and some of the property taxes. He questioned himself all the way up to moving day, wondering if he’d made the right decision as he peered out a window at the van in his driveway.

And going stock-still when his elfin prince stepped out of it.

This is kismet, Cricket.

It took a few seconds for Mason to come back online and after more spying throughout the house, he decided to lurk on the porch, staying far out of the way and pretending to take pictures of the sky while grabbing whatever sly shots he could.

The prince’s beauty was like a cool breeze on a hot day, refreshing but not cold because his sultry eyes opened his face, making him accessible, approachable, and Mason could tell from the few close-ups he’d taken, and from the conversation he’d overheard, that he might have a chance with him…withRain. If he was interested.

And he was, but he’d never act on that interest.

The third time Mason saw him was at work.

In the five months that Ollie lived upstairs, Mason had been tempted to ask about Rain countless times, but he’d waited too long and lost his chance when Ollie had gone into treatment. Although he didn’t miss the continuous whirring of the treadmill, Mason found it strangely lonely without him. Like Gran, Ollie had understood Mason’s quirks, finding them charming even when he took constant photos around the house, but Ollie was gone and so was his rent, which meant Mason had to rely on wedding photography. He dreamed of one day having his own exhibition, making a name for himself, living off his art, and while he did sell photographs on his website it only brought in enough to pay the phone bill, so his backup plan had become the main plan.

While excruciating, weddings were plentiful and paid well. After photographing one a few years ago, word of mouth had regular inquiries popping up in his mailbox, his talent balancing his lack of social skills. Although he tried his best, he knew he came off as taciturn and disinterested; interacting with so many people throughout the day and dealing with a loud chaotic party always wore him out, but he did care and his pictures showed it.

Thankfully, that day’s wedding was at The Pointe, one of the better halls. Not only was it local, but their maître d’ and venue manager also kept things running smoothly. Mason respected that because it meant fewer problems for him during the event and, as predicted, once he arrived he sailed easily through the first look, ceremony, and most of the formals. But as he was circling the bride and groom in the foyer, Mason grabbed a reflection from a mirror on the wall and did a double take once he checked the viewfinder, resisting the urge to turn and stare.

Rain stood in the back of the room, almost in shadow, watching. His uniform tux made it clear that he was part of the staff, and while it fit the others terribly, his somehow looked high fashion. Too bad he wasn’t much over five foot five because if he had height, then he’d be an incredible model. But that didn’t deter Mason, and he felt a tug in his chest as his brain exploded into light. Images of Rain in various poses and locations spun through his mind, the ideas multiplying like rabbits, and it was all he could do to wave the bride and groom off to their suite.

But before he could sort himself out, Rain sprung up in front of him.

“Hi. Do you remember me?” he asked, his tone low and seductive, every move flirtatious and flowing, including the way he held out his hand. “I’m Rain, Ollie’s friend.”

Mason found it humorous; how could anyone forget Rain?

“I remember you.” Slowly, he took the offered hand. It seemed too delicate and soft for him to hold. Shaking it once, he quickly pulled away.

“So, I work here now.” Rain gestured around himself and Mason felt a rush of emotion, but he couldn’t put a name to it. His creative well kept overflowing and he began to short circuit; he needed some alone time before the reception. Stepping back, he said the first thing that came to mind.

“I have to take more pictures.” And a few seconds later he was around the side of the building, wrestling with his brain.

Of course, Rain didn’t speak to him for the rest of the night, which he both liked and hated. A part of him wanted to hear that sensuous voice again, see Rain up close, but then he’d need to converse, and people were not his thing, photography was. Photos didn’t lie, cheat, or bully; they only told the truth. Sometimes that truth was inconvenient or difficult to see, but Mason appreciated that.

Yet he still couldn’t keep his eyes off Rain. That kind of beauty needed to be captured, documented, worshipped, not ogled by the staff and wedding guests, and Mason’s body started moving on its own, snapping the occasional picture whenever Rain looked away or had his back turned. At least he had enough self-control to mask them as wide shots, and with the crazy celebration around him, he doubted that anyone would notice.

By the time the event ended, Mason was more than wrung out. Seeing his elfin prince had thrown him for a loop and his overstimulated mind circled the same question - why did Rain have such an effect on him? But he couldn’t answer that by standing around at The Pointe, so he said a perfunctory goodbye to the bride and groom and left as quickly as possible, using the downstairs exit and hurrying back to the comfort of his grandmother’s house. That was his safe space, his haven, and the luxurious basement apartment had been her last gift to him.

You’re a good boy, Cricket. A talented boy. And you deserve a place to call your own.

Gran had been the only family to love him because she’d been spurned as well. They’d made a great team of oddball artists and she’d believed in him more than he believed in himself. He only continued to reach for his dreams because, wherever she was, he wanted to make her proud, and even though it had been almost eighteen months since she passed, he still missed her beyond words. Every time he thought of her an ache bloomed in his chest which began to stab as he lugged his equipment to the front door and found another letter from his parents’ slimy lawyer taped to it. Gritting his teeth, he ripped it down and went inside, dumping his equipment on the couch.

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