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“What’re you doing?”
Frowning, I powered up the LG and waited for the welcome screen to flash on.
Ryder moved closer and leaned over my shoulder to examine the phone as well. Either the heat from his body radiated into me or my own full-body flush from his proximity made me grow warm. I’m not sure which, but suddenly I was no longer cold.
“I haven’t seen that model before.”
I tried to act distracted, inspecting my new phone. “It’s new.”
He whistled. “Must be. I got my phone this summer and didn’t see that version in the store then.”
Finally, my LG was ready for action; I clicked into the main menu and pressed the multimedia icon on the screen. “My stepdad bought it last week.”
“Hmm. So what’re you doing?” he asked again, the heat from his breath fogged out a cloud in front of me. “Calling lost and found to report a missing glove?”
Since I’d just found out he had a girlfriend, no way was I going to admit I thought his curious, sarcastic question cute.
With an annoyed sigh, I said, “I’m taking a picture.”
“A picture?” He sounded skeptical.
I glanced over my shoulder to glare at him but realized doing so moved our faces closer, only inches apart. A breathy cloud puffed from my lips. I hated that he was so beautiful. Even the movement of his eyelashes as he lifted his gaze to mine made my body tighten with an awareness that would’ve horrified my mother to learn her sixteen-year-old daughter was experiencing.
For a moment in time, neither of us moved, nor spoke, nor breathed. The achy look he sent me drove a tremor of alarm—or maybe it was excitement—straight through my system.
Ugh. I did not want to like him. So why did I keep feeling so freaking “likeable” toward him?
I darted my gaze away. “It’s a camera phone.” I wanted to sneer all sarcastic like, but my voice was a bit too winded to sound demeaning.
He glanced around, looking one way before turning the other, even squinting off into the horizon. “But what’re you taking a picture of?”
“The glove.”
Swerving back around, Ryder arched a questionable eyebrow at the article of winter wear in the snow. “The glove?”
Concentrating on setting the phone’s camera mode to capture, I held the screen in position as I neared the glove for a good close up.
Ryder moved in with me. I paused to send him a scowl over my shoulder. He paused too, glancing briefly at me before returning his attention to the glove. “I don’t get it.”
Gritting my teeth, I turned back to my task and tipped the phone sideways for a vertical portrait shot before tilting it back, preferring the original landscape mode. Focusing all my attention on finding the perfect pose, I scooted a little to the right and then the left, testing the light from each angle before I made up my mind and took the shot.
As the final product froze on my screen, my face lit with pleasure. “Perfect. Isn’t it w
onderful?” I spun around to show off my masterpiece before I remembered the boy behind me was the one person I didn’t want to be around just then.
Ryder looked down at the picture. “It…” He scratched his head, then raised his gaze and laughed. “Honestly, it looks like a glove. What am I supposed to see?”
My face fell. He didn’t understand. I don’t know why I was disappointed. There was no chance Ryder Yates would ever be anything to me, but the fact that he didn’t share my passion let me down. Just like everything else I’d learned about him today.
“You’re supposed to see whatever you want to see. Feel whatever you want to feel.”
He concentrated hard as he glanced back down at the camera screen before he looked up and quietly asked, “So what do you see?”
Touched beyond words he cared anything about my opinion, I bit my lip as I studied the shot. After thinking it through, I gave my answer. “Well…there’s only one glove. Right away, I wonder, where’s the other glove? How did it become separated from its mate? Does it feel lost and confused without its other half? It looks lonely. Cold. Like an outsider that has no one to turn to, nowhere to go. And the stark contrast of the white snow against the bright colors of the glove makes the lines crisp and clear. It makes that feeling of alienated loneliness crisp and clear. The purity of the snow gives the purity of the glove’s solitude a stronger effect.”
When I finished talking, I held my breath, realizing how far off the deep end and into my musings I’d gone. Slowly, I lifted my face, desperate to know his response. Did he think I was crazy? Totally out there? Or wise and philosophical? The response I feared most was that he’d laugh, making fun of my foolish prattle.
But he didn’t laugh when he titled his chin up and met my gaze. He didn’t praise my profound thoughts either. He stared at me with the blankest look anyone had ever given me. I couldn’t read a thought in his head. Then his features fell, ever so slightly, wafting off the hint of regret.
