“Really?” I frown. “But he doesn’t keep any of them.”
She nods. “He’s been offered hundreds of thousands for this one, but there’s no budging him.”
Now I’m intrigued. It’s probably one of his early, arty shots. “Which one is it?”
She points behind me and I turn to find… me. My mouth drops open. It’s one of the photos he took in that hotel roomso many years ago. Thankfully, it’s not one of the more explicit ones. In this one, I’m lying amongst the sheets and obviously naked under them. I’m laughing, and my face is turned so only part of my profile is visible. However, my joy is as clear as day.
Moira clears her throat. “He went through the series of photos very carefully to make sure you couldn’t be identified before he let me have this one. The others have never been shown.”
“He still has the rest of them?” I say, flabbergasted.
“Nobody would recognise you in this one,” she says quickly, not answering my question.
I shake my head. “I doubtIwould,” I say softly. “I’ve not been that boy for many years.”
“I can see why he won’t sell it.”
I tilt my head as I consider the image in front of me. I look so young, so blazingly in love, and happy. It’s like being visited by a ghost. “It’s not like that.”
She pats my arm. “I’m sure it isn’t.”
She wanders away, and I carry on looking. Footsteps sound, and I know it’s him before I turn around. He’s clutching two takeaway cups and a paper bag, and his eyes are blazing in his pale face.
“So,” I say, throwing my hand out to indicate the six-foot portrait of me in case he’s missed it. “I’m having a bit of a surprising morning.”
The silence lengthens. I know he’s experiencing the same memories as me. Sunshine spilling on sheets that smelt of us. A quiet in the room broken by laughter and the click of his camera’s shutter. The warmth of our skin.
The images are clear and golden, like they’ve been preserved in amber. The richness and joy of those feelings have never been duplicated. Wild behaviour and hundreds of hookups don’t even come close.
I shrug. “Well, I suppose I should be glad it’s not one of the more risqué ones. I seem to remember a few that would get you up on a pornography charge. My reputation is already in the gutter without adding sex photos.” I look at him. “You still have them?”
His eyes widen. “OfcourseI do. Did you think I’d get rid of them?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I’d have thought you’d have made a ceremonial bonfire of them and danced around it.”
“Well, you’d be wrong. They’re actually on a memory stick in a safe that will survive a fire, flood, or any natural disaster you could think of.”
“I don’t know. I can imagine a lot. What about a nuclear explosion?”
“Given the cost of the safe, I’d certainly hope so.”
“Nice to know the face I make when I come is enshrined for posterity.”
“I don’t need a photo in a safe to remember that,” he says steadily. Our gazes catch and hold, and I know he’s remembering those moments when I’d been overwhelmed by pleasure.
I exhale a deep, careful breath, and the moment breaks. “Well, I’m glad. Hang on to those pictures, because they’ll go up in value the more notorious I get.”
“Please try not to do that.”
“I make no promises.” I look back at the picture on the wall. “Moira says you won’t sell this one.”
“I won’t ever sell any of them,” he says. The words thrum with a deep conviction.
“Even the polite ones?”
“Never.” He doesn’t smile, his face earnest in a way that makes my stomach hurt.
“How did Moira come to see them?”
