Page 15 of Hard Rock Deceit
He sat next to me on the love seat. Even though we were separated by the gap in the sofa cushions, I became painfully aware of his body heat, of his still-warm skin flushed from theconcert.
His scent filled the air, earthy, like fallen leaves in a forest, only slightly sweeter. I took in a shaky breath. My fingers clenched around my camera, squeezingunconsciously.
"Can I see?" he asked, seemingly unaware of the effect he was havingonme.
I handed him the camera wordlessly. He clicked through the images, viewing them through the digital screen. He nodded and hummed tohimself.
"These are good,"hesaid.
Relief blossomed in my chest. Without realizing it, I'd been worried what he would think about my work. Worried that he'd have second thoughts and decide he'd made a mistake inhiringme.
"Not great," he continued. "But good." His eyes were less penetrating than usual. Almost distant, fuzzy. Although he was speaking to me, it looked like his thoughts were miles away. Something was off about himtoday.
I stared at himquizzically.
"Would you rather I lie?" he asked, curious. "Would you prefer to continue taking average photos and never reach your truepotential?"
"No," I said firmly. "I don't want that. I want you to tell me the truth, even if it's not what I wanttohear."
"You'll always get the truth from me." He handed the camera back. "Next time take more photos of Noah. He's the frontman,notme."
I swallowed down the embarrassment swirling in mychest.
"I was near the back and you were the closest," I lied. I didn't like the glint of amusement I saw in his eyes, less distant now, more focused. "What was wrong with the photos?" I askedhurriedly.
"There's nothing wrong with them. You're a skilled photographer. They just lacked that unique quality I'mlookingfor."
There it was again. August was looking for something I had no idea howtogive.
"Maybe you chose the wrong person,"Isaid.
"I don't thinkIdid."
He said the words with that same easy assurance he used when telling me he was sure I would say yes tothejob.
August took the camera from my hands and set it aside on the sofa. "I told you I've beenfollowingyou."
"You know how creepy thatsounds?"
"It's acompliment."
"Because you mean you've been followingmywork."
"I think you misunderstand what I mean when I say I see something in your art. In yourphotographs."
"Passion?"
I inhaled a sharp breath as August cupped my cheek with one warm, large palm. His eyes burned into mine, startlingclearnow.
"Passion doesn't have to besexual."
My face flushed. "I never said it did," I stammered. Was August aware of all the thoughts and images that had been swirling inmyhead?
"I'm going to tell you some things. I want you tolisten."
I frowned, confused. "Okay," I saidhesitantly.
"Your first boyfriend asked you out, not the other way around." He said the words as if they were a matter of fact, not a question. "You only said yes because you had no reason to say no. You never felt anythingforhim."
