Page 9 of Camera Chemistry
“You too.” Jeremiah nudges me, his elbow landing in my ribs. I take that as my cue to speak.
“Hi,” I say. My voice wobbles and I clear my throat. “I’m Maggie Houston.”
“Hi, Maggie Houston. I’m Aiden Wood.” He ends his introduction with a full smile, and I think I melt.
His hand withdraws from his pocket and extends my way. I accept it, and his fingers lace around mine, vines clinging to a tree to survive. The pad of his thumb presses into the pulse point of my wrist, applying the slightest bit of pressure.
The touch is innocent, yet it seems significant. Some monumental blip in history happening in a warehouse outside the city center as snow falls from the sky. I stare at where we’re joined, unable to let go. I’m not sure I want to. Aiden doesn’t release me from his hold or pull away, either. I think we’ve fused ourselves together, a cement casing binding us.
A loud clank and a litany of curse words ends our interlude. I see one of Jeremiah’s assistants wrestling with a large light near a bench, a woman with curly hair the perpetrator for the unwanted interruption in our private moment. Aiden’s grip tightens, a cursory attempt to hold on for just a little longer, before he steps away and abruptly severs our contact. I’m cold without him, a desolate chill settling over the spot where his warm hand just was.
“Oh,” Jeremiah says cheerfully. “This is going to be fun.”
SIX
MAGGIE
“Before we start,”Jeremiah continues, “I want to talk about today. There’s no pressure to perform in a certain way. I want you to do what feels comfortable. If something doesn’t feel right, I want you to say no. If you want to stop at any point, either of you, please tell me, and we’ll call it quits. Sound good?”
Aiden turns to me. He’s distracting, a presence that’s impossible to ignore. Broad shoulders. Contemplative eyes staring with vigorous intensity. A set of wrinkles between his brows I want to wipe clean, rubbing out the divots with my thumb and smoothing over the unmarred skin.
He’s quiet as his head tips to the side, a conversation passing between us. We don’t need to speak; I understand the gesture with shocking ease. It’s an invitation to create a unified front, tackling today in tandem.
I dip my chin in affirmation, and his eyes sparkle again, a luminescent swirl of brown and green. “Sounds great, Jer,” I say. “We’ll do our best to deliver.”
“Take a few minutes to get to know each other, then we’ll get rolling.” With a wave, Jeremiah disappears.
A pleasant silence settles, a quiet calm broken by the scuff of Aiden’s boot on the floor. He runs his hand through his hair. A few strands jostle free from their perfectly layered position, sweeping across his forehead in a field of waves. The gray I noticed earlier runs deeper than previously suspected. It’s starting to infiltrate the rest of his scalp, a sexy silver tone buried under the lighter shade.
My gaze bounces to his hands, scouring any visible landscape to study him more deeply. There’s a mole on his left pointer finger, and a jagged scar runs along the ridges of his knuckles. He leans forward on the balls of his feet, the position drawing him an inch nearer. I can smell his cologne, a mix of woodsy spice and fresh citrus. The scent surges up my nostrils and I inhale deeply, committing the smell to memory.
“Are you—”
“How do you—”
We speak simultaneously, tripping over each other in a race to get the questions out. I bite my lip to keep from giggling. Aiden blushes, the apples of his cheeks turning pink.
“Sorry,” he apologizes. He makes a wild gesture with his hands in my direction, a combination of circles and points. “You go first. Please.”
The reins of power are in my possession with the singular word. I’m the captain, in charge of the direction of our conversation. I can’t help but wonder how thatplease, the kind, politeplease, would sound whispered in my ear. Traversing down my neck and across my chest, a lover’s caress. A subtle shake of my head disperses the thoughts.
I pause before asking my question, sidestepping out of the way of a large stand with three lights attached to the top. I smile politely at the assistant who apologizes for nearly dropping the contraption on our toes before she expeditiously departs, leaving us alone again.
“Are you nervous?” I settle on. It’s the simple route to take, a segue into a casual exchange without diving into personal details. Maybe we’ll get there later, when the brick walls I’ve constructed start to crumble, and the tension of the unknown dissolves.
Aiden relaxes. The faint frown lines around the corners of his mouth soften. He stands straighter. Still a smidge shorter than me, I notice, even at his full height. He’s probably five foot eight inches on a good day.
I wonder if it bothers him.
It certainly doesn’t bother me.
“Nervous? I’m petrified. My friend, Shawn, is the one who volunteered me. Didn’t tell me until I was three beers deep and couldn’t tackle him for his stupidity. What the hell am I supposed to do with my hands? Do I have a good side or bad side I don’t know about?”
A brick slides out with his sincere answer, the fortress around my heart becoming less protected, more prone to weakness and devastation. “That makes two of us. Jeremiah can be very convincing,” I say. “It’s both a blessing and a curse.”
“You two are close?”
“We met in high school, and we’ve been best friends since. He’s wickedly talented, and a good person to have in your corner.”
