AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I snort as a wave of confidence and relief hits me. He’s clueless, which means I can relax. At least for now.
“I’m not your mother to keep track of your things,” I remind him with annoyance.
John shows me his middle finger and goes away, allowing me to breathe finally. My phone vibrates in my hand, dragging my mind away from anxious thoughts. I quickly open the new message from Bree.
Bree: Not really. I have to take some photos for a class and today is the only day that I’m going to be available to do it.
My fingers move over the keyboard, and I hesitate for a second. I shouldn’t give in to the impulse that’s pulling me to type out a question. I shouldn’t pry into her business. We’re not close. The only reason why we exchanged numbers was in case something like this happened. I’m supposed to let the conversation die, to be happy that I don’t have to go to the library today.
But for some insane and unknown reason, I’m yearning for that hour that I’m sharing with her. It’s already digging its way to my routine. Seeing her daily was not something that I expected to miss. Now that I’m experiencing it, I don’t like it.
Not gonna lie, I like spending time with Bree. She’s blunt, sarcastic, and has no sense of filter, but she makes me laugh. Things are funnier, lighter…easier.
And the best thing? She’s not into me, which I dig because I hadn’t had female friends since high school.
Just let her do her thing, Stan,I try to convince myself. However, my brain and my body are not on the same page because I presssend.
Me: What are you doing?
Bree: Heading to the city and improvising the whole thing, lol.
That’s something that I saw coming. Bree doesn’t seem like the type to plan out things beforehand. We met in a weird and impulsive situation.
Let it go, let it go, let it…
Bree: Wanna come?
A smirk draws on my face as I’m taken over by the fact that Breeinvited me.
Me: sure. Send me the location.
I spotBree in the middle of a crowded street in the city with her camera around her neck, hanging over her chest. I take her in for a second, noticing that there’s something different about her. For the first time, she’s not wearing her hoodie. Instead, a purple tank top pulls me in like a beacon, and I pretend to admire her professional camera for a second.
I respect this girl a lot. All women deserve respect in general; my mother raised me right. But even though I feel no attraction to her, I’m a guy. She may not have big boobs, but I take a glance to admire them before she realizes that I’m here.
Bree looks at my direction, and a bright smile appears on her face.
“Glad you could make it,” she comments when I get close to her, keeping a respectful and friendly distance.
“Happy to be here. Although it’s funny that you’ve tried so hard to get rid of me and you couldn’t pass the chance to invite me,” I mumble, maintaining my tone light and playful.
Bree giggles and rolls her eyes.
“Shut up, jerk,” she drawls, pushing me slightly.
“So, what are you doing?” I ask, curious to know how she develops her art.
I’ve never witnessed a photographer in the field. Of course, I’ve met photographers at different events, and I’ve had hundreds of photos taken since I started playing lacrosse for Moss. Although I haven’t been a part of the production of what they choose to immortalize on the outside, without a model or a group of people.
“I have to take photos that reflect the kind of photography that I want to make,” Bree responds.
I arch a brow at her vague answer.
“And that is?”
She spreads her arms at her sides as if it was apparent. “Urban.”
“You do realize that I know next to nothing about photography, right?” I point out.
