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I have a film SLR on the counter and he picks it up like he’s weighing it. “How about a walk around a part of town and you can take some photos and then dinner? Drinks? Maybe a little dancing?”
My heart starts a long, slow, throbbing beat. “Really?”
“Why not?”
“Because most people don’t want to hang about with someone taking photos.”
He grins slowly, and everything goes into free fall. “If you’re that someone, those people are idiots. I want to spend time with you, anyway, anyhow.”
* * *
We walk around parts of town, and he stops where I want. I take photos of people and nightlife but each time I raise the camera to take a photo of him he stops me.
“Are you afraid of a camera?”
“I don’t like my picture being taken,” he says as we go down the street. There are businesses and bars, and he seems to like to take me weaving about abruptly.
But I can’t shake the feeling that he’s keeping an eye on something even though he’s attentive and there and always in perfect touching distance to me.
“Sounds like you’re scared of my little old camera.”
Nicolo takes my hand, sending sparks of electricity racing up my arm, and he suddenly pulls me into a darkened doorway and presses me against it.
My heart beats wild all over again and my pulse jumps and leaps as his mouth skims along my throat to my ear. “I’m not scared of your fucking camera, little girl,” he says, the smoke of his voice winding slowly around me. “I just don’t like my photo being taken.”
“Sounds like you’re scared.” My voice comes out a little breathless.
“I think you’re provoking me. Be careful, Avah, about what you provoke.” The light tease in his voice holds something else but before I can pinpoint it, before I can throw caution and dignity to the wind and beg him to kiss me, he laughs and whirls us away. “I promised you dinner, drinks and dancing, not a mauling against a wall. Come on.”
He still has my hand and I have to hurry to keep up with him. All the while I want to tell him I wouldn’t mind a mauling if it was by him.
But we get into his car, and as we pull out, I see a car pull out two behind us. It seems familiar.
He glances at me. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
It’s nothing I tell myself. Nothing but an overactive imagination.
Besides, I’m with Nicolo.
Something tells me he’ll keep me safe.
* * *
“High school?” he asks as he pulls up outside a bar.
I wrinkle my nose. “I’m not Miss Outgoing. Something where I could be by myself. And I like peeling back layers and seeing what can be found in the mundane.”
He laughs and jumps out, then comes around to open my door. “Well, I’m sure glad that high school led you to photography.”
“You are?” I stare up at his handsome face as I place my hand in his.
“Yeah, because I’ve gotten to see you work, and fuck, Avah, I like the way you light up.” He kisses my fingers, making me want to swoon.
But instead, I tuck my camera away, the scent of BBQ redolent in the air. Country rock music and laughter tumble from the door to the bar.
It’s in a different part of town to where I’m staying, and it’s one of those country bars, but it isn’t trendy, it looks like what it is. A bar that’s barebones and not sleazy. There are girls in pretty dresses drinking outside with guys, and as we walk up, I’m more than aware of the eyes looking at us. At him.
