18. Ozrik #2
It seemed to take him a second to decide if I was serious, but he shuffled closer and motioned for me to give him the camera. The tutorial that followed rang with pride. Gale’s face lit up like I’d never seen, bleeding passion for his hobby.
“There are a lot of settings,” he explained. “This is your focus ring, and here is your zoom lens. Don’t worry about the mode. I was already taking pictures, so it’s set properly. Over here, you’ve got your light meter, shutter speed, aperture, and ISO setting.”
“ISO?”
“It determines how sensitive the image sensor is to light. When used in conjunction with your aperture and shutter settings, you can—”
“Whoa. I don’t understand a thing you’re saying. Give me the camera, and I’ll fiddle with it until it works.”
Humor danced in his eyes as he handed it back.
I made a few adjustments, turned knobs and pushed buttons, as I peered from the viewfinder out the window. The world beyond was never quite in focus. I wanted to blame the rain for hindering the shot, but the amateur operator was likely the cause.
Gale seemed reservedly amused. His eyes sparkled each time I grumbled and fiddled with switches and knobs.
“What? Am I messing it up?”
“Probably.”
“Are you mad?”
“No.”
“Good.” I couldn’t help stealing glances in his direction, absorbing his features. The slope of his nose. The soft curve of his lips. The nervous strain that tugged at the corners of his eyes.
“What?” he asked when I stared for too long. His cheeks took on color.
“Nothing.” I returned my focus to the camera. “This thing fucking sucks.”
“It doesn’t. There’s an automatic feature if you’re struggling.”
“What? Now you tell me. How do I turn it on?”
Gale shuffled closer and showed me how to switch modes, and if I stared at his mouth, no one had to know.
The world appeared much clearer after that. “There we go. Much better. Can I take a picture?”
“I guess.”
I panned the horizon but stopped with the lens focused on Gale.
“What are you doing?” Horror-stricken, he scooted away until his back hit the passenger door. “Don’t.”
“You said I could take a picture. Say cheese.”
“Not of me.” He blocked his face.
“Why not?” Laughing, I snagged his sleeve and tugged, keeping the camera steady. “Put your hands down and cooperate. Model for me. Strike a sexy pose. Show me what you’ve got.”
“Ozrik, please. I don’t want you to.”
It was the first time I remembered him saying my name, and it curled warmth in my belly. I lowered the camera, confused at the stricken look in his eyes.
“What’s the big deal? One picture. Humor me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. You’re…” Beautiful, I almost said, but caught myself. Was that how I saw him? Beautiful? Nothing added up, but since it was the first word that came to mind, it must have been true. “I… want to take your picture,” I said instead.
Without waiting for permission, I lifted the camera to my eye again. “Give me a big goofy smile.”
“I don’t smile.”
“Yes, you do. Come on. One little smile.”
“No.”
“For me?”
“No.” But that time, the corner of his lips twitched.
“Here it comes. You can do it. Stop fighting it, Gale. I know you want to.”
I was used to fucking around with my buddies, so out of habit, I upped the ante, forgetting that I didn’t know Gale, and he didn’t know me.
“I’ll make you smile one way or another, Windrow. Don’t test me.”
“I don’t want my picture taken.”
“Say… cheesy puffs.”
“Ozrik—”
“Say… penis.”
If he’d been close to smiling before, he wasn’t anymore. “Stop it.” He reached for the camera, but I backed away, laughing.
“Oh no you don’t. Say… Ozrik is the handsomest devil I’ve ever met.”
“No.”
I peered mischievously over the top of the camera and wiggled my brows. “Say… Ozrik makes my dick hard.”
I meant it playfully, and yes, I was alluding to earlier, hoping I could get the truth out of him, but the comment backfired.
The color drained from Gale’s face. Horror filled his eyes. He looked like he wanted to vomit.
I lowered the camera. “Hey. I was fucking around.”
He launched forward and tore the camera from my hand. “Leave me alone.” Fumbling, he stuffed it back in the case, but his hands shook so violently, he struggled.
“Gale.”
“I said leave me alone,” he shouted.
“Look at me.”
“No.” The guy seemed ten seconds from a full-blown meltdown or panic attack.
I shuffled to my knees and removed the case from his hands, setting the camera in the footwell.
He scrambled to turn around or get away, but I grabbed his shoulder, keeping him in place by pressing him against the window. He instantly surrendered, squeezing his eyes closed as though I might hit him.
What the hell?
“Gale.”
“Please leave me alone.”
“Gale. Relax. I’m not going to hurt you. Look at me.”
When I touched the underside of his chin, he tensed. Warily, he opened his eyes. The torment rippling through him was unmistakable.
“I’m sorry. I was messing around. All I wanted was to take a nice picture of you.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
“I see that. I’m done. I swear.” By this point, I was across the middle console, kneeling partly on his seat, invading his space. Gale’s back was glued to the door.
I should have returned to my seat, but I didn’t. The tortured look in his eyes about killed me, especially when I noticed the glassy sheen on their surface.
“Relax.” I brushed a thumb over his jaw. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He squirmed, each breath hitching. “W-what are you doing?”
I had no idea, but I couldn’t stop.
Gale didn’t take his eyes off me. Like he didn’t trust me. Like I was the enemy.
The words slipped out before I could stop them. “I want to take your picture because I think you’re beautiful.”
His brows came together. His mouth worked around words that never came.
My skin buzzed with the strange electrical current that always hummed in his presence, and my heart knocked bruisingly against my ribs. I didn’t intend to be so open and honest, but I’d clearly upset him, and I was done messing around.
A flash of vulnerability crossed Gale’s face at my confession. He didn’t move away from my touch.
He seemed frozen with terror.
I leaned in, keeping hold of his chin.
Inches separated us.
I brushed my nose along his. There was no physical spark. No static charge, but I still felt it. A tug. A pull. A yearning.
“Zap,” I whispered.
Then I closed the distance and pressed my lips to his.
The kiss was soft and hesitant on both sides.
It pulled a quiet whimper from him, and I took it as a good sign.
After my failed attempt to tease, I half expected Gale to jerk his head to the side or shove me in the chest. If he called me an asshole and ordered me to get out of the Jeep, I would deserve it.
Instead, he barely moved at all.
I deepened the kiss one cautious step at a time, wanting desperately to pull a reaction from him. I needed confirmation that I wasn’t alone. That this sensation buzzing through my veins wasn’t one-sided.
When I traced my tongue tentatively over his lower lip, he surprised me. I earned the simplest touch of tongues, and the silky connection turned me inside out.
I didn’t get dirty and thrust my tongue down his throat. I didn’t fist his hair and grind on his lap like I wanted to. I lingered in the moment, enjoying the subtle taste of something fresh, new, and wholly unexpected.
I cradled Gale’s face and advanced ever so slightly.
Was this doing to him what it was doing to me?
A steady rumble moved between us. A quiet thunderstorm.
His quiet thunderstorm. I felt it like it was mine.
Tasted it on my tongue. The pain he harbored in his chest. The anguish he hid from the world.
Gale didn’t touch me back, and before long, we naturally came apart. His breath came in fits and starts, eyes wild with a mix of fear and uncertainty.
I fished for something meaningful to say but had lost all sensibility, so I simply asked, “Can I do that again?”
Gale squeezed his eyes shut. His pained expression filled me with concern. I thought he would say no, but he nodded. I wanted to ask if he was sure, but I was afraid he would change his mind.
So I kissed him again. That time, when our tongues grazed, his entire body shuddered.
He rested his hands on my thighs and clung.
The kiss was clumsy, sloppy, and less than perfect.
It was by far the most uncoordinated kiss I’d experienced since dating Brenda Causley in high school when I was fourteen.
And that gave me pause.
Something told me this was Gale’s first kiss.
Ever.