Asher
Sometimes, when we look too hard for something, we fail to see the things that are right in front of us.
—My Therapist
I arrive at the field Yayoi specified while Joss and Ali are still in the middle of their shoot. As instructed, I’m wearing
light khakis and a white button-up, and I made sure my hair has enough gel to hold that purposely tousled vibe despite the
breeze.
All for Yayoi.
Don’t care what Joss thinks. The stern talk I had with myself earlier confirmed it. She might have gained some new power over
the rhythm of my heart, but she’s still just Joss.
We’re besties. Nothing more.
As I walk up, Joss spots me first and waves with both hands. “Damn, Ash! You look good!” she shouts across the distance between us.
Stupid thing in my chest responds uncomfortably to that—thump, thump, thump.
Hmm. Maybe care a little what Joss thinks. Doesn’t matter, though. It will pass.
“You look better,” I say and stop beside Yayoi, who has her camera risen.
“And I look better than us all,” Ali says, winking.
The heat around us is tempered by a gentle wind and the scent of fresh flowers. In the distance, a family of sparrows lends
us some background music.
Dark-haired Ali is clad in a knee-length black number that shows off her shoulders. Blonde Joss has on a white thing with
a sheer lace overlay that teases the skin of her abdomen and back.
The effect is charming—opposite in some ways, similar in others.
“Eerie how their smiles are exactly the same, isn’t it?” Yayoi says as she snaps a few with the sisters sitting side by side
in the grass.
I don’t know. Joss’s smile seems to contain a fair bit of mischief, while Ali’s is happily content. Speaks to their personalities
more than anything, though. The two women share a silhouette, a general shape, but other than that, they couldn’t be more
different.
After a few more poses, Yayoi announces she has what she needs, and the three of them scroll through the shots on the tiny
camera screen, oohing and aahing.
“These are going to be great,” Ali says, and they all gush over one particular photo.
On the outskirts, I keep my hands in my pockets, the better to hide the telling clamminess going on there.
I’ve been dreading this for days, but I can’t articulate why.
I’m a bit jittery, like I’m heading into a surgery without knowing the steps.
Stupid feeling. Just have to take some pictures. What’s so difficult about that?
“All right.” Yayoi turns to me in a whirl and rubs her palms together. “Your turn.”
Dread, pure and simple, washes over me.
Joss holds out her hand, grinning wickedly. Ah. I’ve come upon the most familiar version of Joss. Sassy Joss.
“Come on, lover,” she says.
Ick.
Don’t like that. She’s poking at these new secret desires I refuse to give credence. Feels a bit on the nose, even for the
universe. But Sassy Joss is on a rampage. I grab her hand and let her lead me into the field of flowers. Golden afternoon
sun shines behind us, highlighting her in an angel silhouette. This type of sunlight must be the most romantic or something
because Yayoi was very specific about the time.
Joss looks pretty in it. Heart-rending, yes, but pretty.
Yayoi holds up her camera, snapping a few shots while we stand side by side, two feet between us. “We’ll start with some warm-ups
since you guys aren’t used to touching so much, okay?”
“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Joss murmurs.
“That’s what she said,” I reply out of habit.
Her laugh usually serves to loosen me up, but I can’t relieve the tension in my muscles. It pulls at my bones, making my movements
awkward and wooden.
“Why don’t we start with some easy ones.” Yayoi points a little farther down the field. “Go over there, hold hands and just
walk toward me, smiling at each other.”
We do as instructed. Joss’s tiny hand is stiff and swallowed by my clammy one. She grins up at me, clearly trying not to laugh. Even I can tell our smiles are goofy and our body language is weird.
The gnawing starts up in my gut.
Yayoi scrolls through the shots. “Jeez. Either you’re extremely un-photogenic or you guys have zero chemistry.”
For unknown reasons, I take visceral offense to that. “Maybe this is why engagement photos should be taken for people who
are actually engaged.”
“Yeah, that!” Joss says, though it’s clearly insincere because she’s got her fake scowl on, aimed right at Yayoi.
“You’re enjoying how awkward this is, aren’t you?” I ask.
“It’s a little funny, seeing you squirm.” She smirks my way. “Where’s all that charm now, Foley?”
“What about you? You were perfect with Ali. Now you’re all—” I motion a hand up and down her tense body “—edgy.”
Her eyebrows fly up. “Am not! You take that back.”
“No. If I’m bad, then so are you. We’ll be sharing the blame here, lollipop.”
Yayoi looks between us, glances at Ali, whose eyes are wide, then clears her throat. “Let’s try again.”
This time, it’s clear a competition has started because she gazes at me all sappily when she takes my hand. Quite hard not
to roll my eyes.
Yayoi laughs. “Joss, he’s your fiancé, not a basket of puppies.”
“Ha!” I point at her as we walk. “Overactor.”
She cackles, and so do I, and the camera snaps away. On the next take, she skips like a fool, and on the one after that, I
yank her arm when she tries to do the wave with me. Laughing, she stumbles, then decides to leap on my back.
“What is happening right now?” I ask as her arms wrap around my shoulders.
“No, keep it up!” Yayoi says, motioning a big circle with one hand.
I smile at the camera, then mutter, “This is what engaged couples want pictures of?”
Joss is too busy laughing behind me to answer.
“Cute! Okay, let’s do the one where you lift her up and her foot is in the air.”
Try to picture that in my head. A funky splits-type image pops up and is immediately trashed. “Say what?”
Ali laughs. “Here, I’ll help.”
She traipses over, instructs me to widen my legs and pick Joss up so her forearms rest on my shoulders. Joss shriek-laughs
when I do it, and her fingers naturally thread through the hair at the nape of my neck.
Tingles.
Ignore the tingles.
“Joss, bend one knee and point your toe,” Yayoi says, snapping away.
Ah. I get it now. No splits, it seems.
I look up into her eyes as her curled hair falls about her face. “Just so we’re both on the same page, I’m currently touching
your ass.”
She snorts. “What ass?”
Resist the urge to squeeze. “It’s definitely there.”
“This is incredibly awkward positioning, don’t you think? How much you want to bet the picture is straight fire, though?”
Probably, but I’m too focused on the very feminine body pressed against mine to wonder about how it looks or whether it’s
awkward.
So soft. I always knew she’d be soft.
“Next pose!” Yayoi barks.
Thank you!
I drop Joss at once, trying not to let the slide of her body do any more damage to the Just Friends sign flickering inside my mind. It’s getting worse, whatever’s breaking it. Letting this woman in on my secrets installed
something in our friendship that simply doesn’t belong.
Wish I could take it back.
Suffering a sense of inevitable doom now. Maybe I’m about to have a heart attack.
Yayoi turns to Ali. “Can we borrow your engagement ring?”
With a sly smile at Joss, Ali slips off her ring and hands it over. Joss slides it on her left hand. Peculiar things happen
in my chest at the sight. Did someone turn down the oxygen again?
“Aw, honey.” Joss wiggles her finger at me. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Anything for you, dearest,” I force out in a tone that is acceptably jovial.
Yayoi points at the ground. “Sit. We’re doing some close-ups.”
We sit side by side in a patch of flowers, allowing Yayoi to position us however she wants. My legs are stretched out while
Joss’s are bent and resting against mine. The skirt of her dress drapes artfully over my khakis. Yayoi sets my hand on Joss’s
knee, then Joss’s ring-laden one over mine.
“Now,” Yayoi says. “Just look at each other.”
Our bodies turn slightly toward each other, and as soon as our gazes touch, they lock.
The overacting and sarcasm and laughter vanish from her expression, now slightly guarded. Her eyes always remind me of cinnamon—warm
and rich. This close, in this light, little slashes of gold and jet emerge.
The effect is quite beautiful.
She is quite beautiful.
And she’s wonderful, too. Trustworthy. Loyal.
Funny.
Caring.
She’s sort of . . .
“Perfect!” Yayoi says, thankfully ripping through that thought. “Now put your hand on his cheek.”
She does.
“No, like you’re about to kiss him.”
Stomach is gone now. Acid has eaten it away. Whose stupid idea was this?
Joss leans a little closer, her lips bare inches from mine. “I feel like she deserves punishment for this,” she whispers,
some sort of lemon candy on her breath.
My laughter combines with hers, probably making for a much better picture than the deer-in-headlights I was before.
Click, click, click.
“Now stand up and face each other.”
Jeez. Yayoi has gotten really fucking bossy today. Still only inches away, Joss blinks a few times before she obeys, and I
follow.
Yayoi adjusts us closer together. “I want to get that Pride & Prejudice shot. The sun is perfect now.”
I glance at the low-hanging sun, disquiet stealing over me. Isn’t Pride & Prejudice some powerhouse of romance or some shit? “I don’t know what that means.”
She stares at me like I’m an idiot. “Foreheads together. Eyes closed. Come on, you know! Your hands are cold.”
I look at Joss for help. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”
She nods, but before she does anything, her attention strays to Ali. Something unexplainable passes between the sisters, and Ali sends her two thumbs-up. Yayoi thrusts her phone in my face, showing me the pose she wants—a sun-drenched movie scene of two characters obviously in love.
Ha.
This is just . . . torture.
Joss clears her throat and smiles at me—a pinched, artificial smile, like this might be as hard for her as it is for me. Don’t
know what to make of that. She erases the distance between us, standing close enough that faint traces of her sweet, girly
scent snake their way inside. Straight into my bloodstream. Then she sets her ringed hand on my chest, just over my heart.
Not good.
Thump, thump, thump.
Obediently, I drop my forehead to hers like Yayoi wants and lift my hand to her chin. The backs of my fingers barely caress
her throat.
Agonizingly soft, she is. Like velvet against my skin.
Urges that don’t belong hammer at my nerves. I’m compelled to touch more. Tip her face up. Graze my lips across hers.
It aches, this want. And it’s . . . familiar? Has it been here all this time, hiding? Like an old injury I can ignore until
the weather acts up?
The camera clicks, clicks, clicks.
She draws in a deep breath. Does she need steadying, maybe? Because I’m really fucking unsteady. I’m hovering in a place I’ve
never been, and I’m not sure I want to leave. Rules snap in half as I move against my will. Ever so slowly, I angle my face
away from the camera, sliding to the side of hers. I push her hair away from her cheek with my nose and inhale.
Her scent is overpowering. Drugging. Have I ever been this close to it? Hints never picked up before sing across my senses.
Indescribable. Sweet.
It all hits me hard. Not like a sledgehammer or freight train. No, it’s more precise. An ice pick. A line drive. Striking over and over.
Want her. Want her. Want her.
Forbidden. Forbidden. Forbidden.
Thump, thump, thump.
Click, click, click.
We stand, temple to temple, barely breathing, and her hand against my chest gradually curls into a fist, clenching on the
fabric of my shirt.
“This is perfect, you guys. I’m probably pushing my luck here, but how would you feel about a kiss?”
Yayoi’s question wrenches me out of this terrible, inappropriate train of thought. Joss and I both turn our heads to stare
at her, silent. I can’t kiss her. What— Why— What the actual fuck? How could Yayoi even suggest it?
“Yikes,” Yayoi says, responding to whatever incredulity must be launching off our faces like laser beams. “Never mind.”
Behind her, Ali hides her silent laughter behind her hands.
Joss releases my shirt and backs away, staring hard at Yayoi. “Surely, you have enough.”
Yayoi scrolls through her shots, and I do my best not to look at Joss.
Impossible endeavor. I fail utterly. Our eyes meet, dart away, then clash again. We’ve never been awkward. Not even in our
most tricky moments. But we’re awkward now.
Makes my soul itch.
“Your sister seems to think this is funny,” I say, attempting to inject some levity into the situation.
Joss shoots a death glare at Ali. “My sister is a sadist who enjoys other people’s pain, apparently.”
That throws me. “Is this . . . painful for you?”
Fuck. I’m over here developing a full-blown crush, and she’s in pain?
She does a double take when she looks at me. “No, that’s not . . .”
But she trails off and doesn’t finish, which leaves a bitter, stinging glaze coating the inside of my body. She stares at
the ground, and her throat works with what looks like a fairly agonizing swallow.
I . . . This . . . She . . . Pain?
My previously firm foundation suffers a hairline crack, zigzagging down the middle, and I’m off-kilter. I hadn’t even had
time to make sense of this infatuation, but the rejection smarts like acid on my skin.
It doesn’t matter. Not really. Nothing would have come of it anyway. This is Joss. We’re friends.
But . . . friends don’t think it’s painful when you touch them.
“Just one more,” Yayoi says, oblivious. “Head on chest.”
Head on—what?
Yayoi motions for me to move. “Hug her, and, Joss, I want you to rest your head and ring hand on his chest.”
I force my numb limbs to do as she says, ignoring how perfectly Joss fits against me. My hands land on the small of her waist,
my cheek on the top of her head.
Click, click, click.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur.
“Sorry for what?” Her tone is soft, if a little hesitant.
“I’m sorry it hurts.”
Click, click, click.