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I can't help it. The boy is photogenic.
"Get a few shots of Erik looking dejected, will you? I want to make them my lock screen," Payton says, leaning in close so I can hear her.
I smile from behind my camera. I can't tell if Payton wants to fight Erik or fuck him. She's in for a struggle either way. He's famously reclusive.
"That's going to be hard for her, given her Parker fixation," Dakota crows from my other side.
I can feel the first flames of embarrassment licking up my cheeks, but I'm a past master at ignoring my BFF. If I couldn't tune her out, I wouldn't ever get anything done.
"I do not have a fixation. You're just mad I don't give Kai special treatment," I mutter.
Dakota laughs next to me.
The heat in my cheeks intensifies, but I hide it behind my camera. Being a photographer is my one true calling, but the fact that it's acceptable to hide yourself behind a lens? That's a big, big bonus.
A vicious check against the boards leaves one of the other team's players sliding down the glass not far from us. I get a few shots of it. Hockey is a brutal sport. Giant, angry men with big sticks and knives strapped to their feet flying around at speeds that could get you pulled over in a school zone.
At first, I wasn't a big fan, but watching Parker skate won me over.
He's graceful as he breaks away from the opposing team's defenders, all controlled power and explosive movement. The shutter on my camera clicks rapid-fire as I take shot after shot of him moving across the ice like a phantom, dodging defenders until he's got a clear shot.
This one doesn't miss. The crowd goes wild. Dakota and Payton squeeze me into a hug, but I don't let them ruin my shot. I don't take my eyes off Parker.
Because as he loops around, his eyes find me in the crowd. I know he can't see me, but I can feel that gaze pierce right through the lens and into me.
That's the money shot.
I manage to avoid the crush of the crowd exiting the arena by lurking, snapping photos of Parker and the rest of the team. Alright, they're all of Parker, but that's my alibi if anyone asks.
He must sense my eyes on him because he turns to look right at me, even behind the safety of Nick, my trusty Nikon camera.
"You're coming out to celebrate, right Sofie?" Parker asks, hopefully.
I shake my head, smiling.
"I don't do crowds, Parker," I tell him.
He looks like he wants to argue or stay, but Sawyer throws an arm around his shoulders and drags him away. He tosses a look at me back over his shoulder, and I capture it.
Am I imagining things, or is there regret lurking in his eyes behind that happy, celebratory smile?
The question haunts me all the way home. Ever since Dakota hooked up with Kai, I've had the place to myself. It suits me just fine because it lets me indulge myself.
I have a routine.
First, I turn off every light in the place. It's not quite as good as a darkroom, but the ambiance is essential.
I hook my camera up to my computer, setting the display to slideshow. As pictures of Parker slide by, I strip my pants and panties off and toss my legs over the arms of my chair.
I've been aching for this all day. It's the only time I can turn off my brain. There's a movie theater in my head, constantly seeing everything from different angles, analyzing every detail. It's what makes me a good photographer and a downer at parties.
But here, in the dark, with Parker on my monitor, I can finally turn my brain off.
And turn my pussy on.
My fingers drift down, teasing the insides of my thighs. I try to draw it out, but I know I won't be able to for long. I can't resist touching myself to the pictures of Parker.
Pictures of him at the game. Photos from the locker room, fresh out of the shower, a towel the only thing keeping his modesty safe. My eyes trace the bulges of his muscles and the bulge barely hidden beneath the towel.
