Page 11 of The Virgin's Dance
“I like the idea and the sketch. How the hell did you catch my likeness so well?”
Pilot grinned. “It’s a useful skill to have. But, seriously, what do you think? A series of movement and power. I’m not saying we do the entire shoot in a Faraday cage; I see it as a progression, maybe you in the cage at first, even hiding from the element until later in the series when you’re almost battling with it. I’m rambling.”
“You are, a little, but I think it’s a great start.” She looked back at the sketch. She loved the visual of it. “Would you do it as a modern piece or retro? Because I’m think this would look great as sepia-toned thing … God, listen to me. You’re the photographer.”
Pilot leaned forward. “Listen, this is a collaboration, Boh. We worktogether. Besides … you can order me around any time you like.”
“Ha, don’t say that,” she laughed, blushing. Pilot traced a line with his fingertip across her palm and smiled at her.
“Will you be late for class?”
She shook her head. “I’m not scheduled until nine. I’m glad you called.”
“Are you free for dinner later?”
She made a face. “That I don’t know. Kristof is still running Vlad and me ragged and his usual trick is to keep us late on weeknights. Yesterday, I was lucky. May I let you know later?”
“Of course. Look, I have meetings in Manhattan all day so any time you have free to talk about the project, I’d appreciate it, but I also know you have to have downtime, so I won’t be offended if you cry off.”
Boh secretly thought that she would love to spend her downtime with Pilot, but she also knew she had to be mature about this. The last thing she wanted him to think was that she was a star-struck schoolgirl with a crush. He was studying her as if trying to read her mind.
“This has all happened quickly, and Boh, I want you to know—” he faltered and looked away, “I kissed you.”
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t very professional of me, and I’m aware you might think it’s something I always do with my subjects. You can believe me or not, but I don’t. I haven’t. I’ve never been a player, despite what my ex-wife might say. If any of this makes you uncomfortable, I want you to tell me.”
He was letting her down, obviously regretting kissing her. Boh swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded.
“I appreciate that.” She could feel her cheeks burning. Here, in front of her, was a world-famous photographer, and when she’d searched him on the Internet, she’d been disbelieving that the man who had kissed her and joked around with her could be so very out of her league. “Idohave to focus on the performance,” she said quietly, but managed to smile at him, “as well as our project.”
“I would never put your job in jeopardy, Boh, I promise.” He smiled at her. “Boh … I’m twice your age, divorced, and a wreck. You deserve more.”
Boh wondered that the atmosphere between them had changed so suddenly from fun-loving to serious. “Pilot, I’m not someone who craves other people’s company, in fact, I actively seek out situations where I can be alone. But I like spending time with you.”
Pilot smiled. “Same here. Friends?”
“Friends.”
Pilot walked Boh back to the ballet company and then bid her goodbye. As he walked back to the car, he shook his head. He’d stayed awake all night thinking about her and the usual doubts about his self-worth had come flooding in. He’d tried to argue that he shouldn’t ignore the kind of chemistry that had been instantly there between them, but neither could he bring Boh into his shitty life at the moment. Once he was free of Eugenie, maybe.
So he’d given Boh an out.
Damn it.
His phone buzzed, and he saw it was his mother calling. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, cutie. How are you? I haven’t heard from you for a few days.”
Pilot smiled to himself. Since his divorce, Blair Scamo had been more attentive than usual, worried that her son would fall into one of the depressive moods he was prone to. Blair had disliked Eugenie from the beginning, but she also respected her son’s decisions and had been polite and kind to Eugenie throughout the marriage. She’d also seen Pilot at his most broken, when Eugenie’s cruelty had taken his pride, his confidence, and on more than one occasion, his health.
“I’m …” He was about to tell her that he was good, but he knew it would be a lie. Eugenie’s latest visit had put a strain on him that he was finding hard to get past. He sighed. “Genie came to see me the other day. She wants a baby.”
“Oh, for the love of God.” He could hear his mother’s anger. “I’ve said it before, Pilot. You need to ghost her, cut her out entirely.”
He was silent for a moment, and when Blair spoke again, her tone was softer. “Sometimes I forget the man I raised. You’re too good, Pilot, and I know that sounds strange. You were a victim of domestic abuse, Pilot—”
“Don’t say that, Mom, please.” Pilot winced at his mother’s words.
