Page 12 of Camera Chemistry
She laughs, and a gleam brightens her eyes. “I didn’t think I would be learning anything today, but you proved me wrong.”
“Happy to be of service. Time to educate me. Tell me your favorite food.”
“Meatballs. I have six siblings, and my parents worked a lot when I was younger. They made huge batches of pasta and meatballs for dinner. We’d eat it two, three nights a week. Even today, it’s my comfort food.”
This isn’t as painful as I thought it would be. I’m not dragging my feet, begrudgingly complying with instructions. I’m genuinely interested to hear what Maggie has to say, eager to learn more. Testing the waters, I scoot closer to her. As I do, I smell ripe oranges. It’s intoxicating. Fresh. Sweet.
When I subtly inhale and try to savor the scent, I realize I’m totally and completely fucked.
EIGHT
AIDEN
“It’s your turn for a question,”Maggie says.
Her words snap me out of the lapse I’ve slipped into, soaking in her proximity. It’s been so long since I’ve been near a woman, I’ve pathetically entered some sort of trance because of her. I nod and push the sleeves of my sweater farther up my arms. It’s warmer than I thought it would be in here, and I wish I had brought something less constricting to wear.
Her eyes drop to the sliver of space near my biceps. She studies my skin, from the patch of moles below my elbow down to my wrist in a slow perusal. I can’t help but curl my fingers into a fist. It’s showing off, I know, the egotistical portion of my brain flexing the tendons so she can see my muscles. I want her to be aware of what I lack in height, I make up for in other departments. The power to lift her if I wanted to. Onto a counter. A table. Against a wall.
She can take her fucking pick.
Her gaze moves across my shoulders to my face. We hold eye contact and her teeth sink into her bottom lip, canines creating puncture marks in the pink.
Yup.
I’m definitely fucked. I want to sinkmyteeth into her lip and tug her toward me. I want to trace the outline of her mouth with my thumb and find out if she tastes like oranges, too.
“What’s your biggest pet peeve?” I ask. It’s not the most urgent question floating in my mind, but it’s the most appropriate one.
“People who don’t return their shopping carts. If you’re an able-bodied human, push your cart back to the little cart holder.”
“Do we know if there’s a scientific name for the cart holder? Should I call them LCH’s? Cart garages? Cart parks?”
“It physically pains me that I'm not able to dig out my phone and research this topic thoroughly.”
“The lazy cart drivers are my pet peeve, too. Perhaps we can research them together. We’d get through the data faster.”
“Yeah,” she says. “Perhaps we can.”
Her eyes twinkle, and I like this easiness between us. It feels good to have a conversation with someone new, no pressure to say the right thing. It’s not a date or work. It’s not a parent-teacher conference. There are no responsibilities or expectations. We’re just kind of here. We just kind of are. And I’m glad to justbewith her.
“Okay, it’s clear you two don’t hate each other,” Jeremiah calls out from behind his camera. He motions for an assistant to shift the backdrop to the left a quarter of an inch, nodding when he likes the new position. “Thank goodness. Can you get a little closer for a few more shots?”
Maggie and I move at the same time. Her foot nudges mine, and her body weight becomes unevenly distributed. My knee knocks hers. Her hand lands on my thigh as she steadies herself. Fingers dig into my quadriceps, and her nails drag up my jeans on a tortuous path. There’s a vice-like hold on the curve of my leg.
I suck in a sharp inhale at the contact, caught off guard by the position we’ve found ourselves in.
“Shit,” she squeals. Her face flushes a deep crimson. The hand six inches from my dick stays in place, and I’m not mad about it. “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“Basically feeling you up.”
“Must not be that sorry, because you’re still doing it,” I joke. I smile after I say it, hoping to defuse the tension. She releases me and scoots across the bench, creating miles of distance between us. “Hey. I was just kidding.”
“That was uncalled for. I shouldn’t have—”
“Maggie.” My tone is laced with a demand that she look at me, a register I’ve never used before. Her eyes lift to meet mine, unsure.There she is. “You can grip my thighs whenever you want. There’s enough there for multiple people to latch on to. Haven’t been to the gym in weeks. I kind of liked when you touched me, but you should have bought me dinner first. I know I’m irresistible.”
