Page 12 of The Heart Shot
I had never done a couples photoshoot before, thanks to my deadbeat ex who never wanted any photos of us together, but I had seen enough pictures on social media to understand the gist of the poses we’d be doing. We had to convince Maya’s photography professor that we could act like we were in love on camera, even though we had never met before.
This was the very definition of insanity.
“Okay, we’ll start with something simple. Els, let’s have you stand over there, and then Jameson will come up from behind and hug you,” Maya said, pointing to where a large sunflower drooped a few feet away.
“Um, don’t you think we should g-get to know each other first?” I stuttered, pressing my clammy palms against my jeans.
Maya looked at me as though I had lost my mind. “Fine. Elsie, what’s your favorite color?”
I crossed my arms. That wasn’t what I meant.
“Well?” She tapped her foot on the ground.
“Black.”
Maya snorted. “Just like your soul. Jameson? How about you?”
“Chartreuse.” He didn’t miss a beat, and Maya burst out laughing while my own mouth fell open. Then he turned his dimples on me and winked, adding softly, “Kidding. It’s green like the flecks in your eyes.”
A smothering heat overtook my face.Like my eyes?Did that mean…he liked them? My eyes were brown with a hint of green specks, but most people never even noticed.
No, Elsie. Stop overthinking it. That’s not what he meant. He’s a stranger, and he will remain as such.I forced my face into a blank expression, and killed the strange flutter in my stomach. There would be none ofthat.
“Perfect,” Maya said, missing his words and my internal scolding. She clapped her hands. “Now that that’s settled. Elsie, chop chop.” With a wave of her hand, she directed me to the drooping flower.
Jameson winked once more before swaggering over to his spot.
With heavy legs and drenched armpits, I stalked to the flower and crossed my arms, waiting with my back to a stranger.
“You better wipe Ms. Grouch from your face by the time Jameson touches you,” Maya called, her camera already clicking away.
What could she possibly be photographing? Jameson was still feet away and—
Strong, warm arms suddenly wrapped around my waist from behind and all my senses narrowed to the feel of his hands on my stomach, and then to his nose as he pressed it against my neck.
Whoa.
My breath hitched, and I was immensely grateful that Jameson was only human and not some mythical being with enhanced senses like in the fantasy books I loved to lose myself in, otherwise he would have been able to hear my heart skip a beat at his sudden closeness.
No, Elsie. You feel nothing. It’s not real.
I squeezed my eyes shut, praying he couldn’t feel the dampness of my shirt. Would he think I was disgusting? Would he stop touching me?
You didn’t want him touching you anyway,I reminded myself.This is all fake.
“This okay?” he murmured in my ear.
Was it? I wasn’t sure. I nodded automatically, but there were too many conflicting emotions happening here. The click of the camera shutter was a bomb clock ticking down in my mind. What happened when it stopped? My body stiffened.
“Relax,” Jameson whispered, his lips barely brushing against my skin. Goosebumps erupted beneath his touch.
I squeezed my eyes closed again. “I’m sorry I’m sweaty,” I whispered back, my throat tight.Why did I say that?
“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, his grip tightening on my waist. “It’s hot.”
We both froze. A beat of silence passed.
Then Jameson coughed. “I mean, it’s hot out here. N-not that you’re hot—I mean, you are, but that’s not—” He sighed, frustrated with his own words.
