Chapter 36
thirty-six
PRESENT DAY
brANDON
I’m forty minutes into watching an ocean documentary, but I can’t focus because I know Kate is mere feet away getting ready for our first date in over six years.
These last few months, I’ve exhausted all my options. I’ve done all I can do to show Kate how great we could be together. Tried everything to convince her to give us another shot. I drag a hand across my freshly shaven jaw, then straighten the hem of my dark green v-neck.
If this vacation is our last shot, I’m giving it everything I have.
The documentary credits roll as the handle of Kate’s bedroom door finally turns.
She walks out in frayed denim shorts, her long hair twisted into two buns on her nape.
A cherry-red halter top edges her bare shoulders.
The bottom of the top flares out in a wide ruffle, offering occasional glimpses of her toned stomach when she moves.
I fiddle with my gold neck chain as I turn off the TV.
“You look beautiful, Kate.”
She gives me a shy smile. “Thanks, handsome.” She checks her phone, then slings a small black leather backpack over her shoulder. “You ready to go?”
I bob my head and stand.
My sudden bout of nerves wonders if the sneaky phone calls I made earlier were mistakes. I don’t have much time to overthink, though, because we arrive in the driveway in less than a minute.
Kate stops dead in her tracks at the sight of the man unloading a glistening black motorcycle off a rental trailer. If I could tattoo her expression on my body, I would. Her mixture of shock, adoration, and recklessness sends her eyes flitting to mine.
I’m vaguely aware of the man still waiting beside the bike. I sign the paperwork, then slip a twenty from my pocket and tip him. My eyes find Kate’s again as the truck ignites and the trailer rattles away.
Her strawberry lips lift. “You did this for me?”
She takes a step toward me.
“I did.”
I take a step toward her.
Her smile is dazzling. “That was so thoughtful.”
“I only thought of you,” I say, almost cringing at how honest that was.
She’s less than a foot away from me, dark eyes shining. Electricity crackles between us, and it steals my breath. Everything about this woman steals my breath.
Does she realize that? How quickly I’ve become undone for her? That I would do so much more than just renting a motorcycle? The look in her eyes says she might.
Kate tentatively raises her arms, wrapping them around my neck. I pull her tighter into my embrace, content to stand there for the day if she’d let me.
“Thank you,” she mumbles.
I don’t have time to respond before she releases me and squeals toward the motorcycle.
“Enough talk, Bike Boy. Let’s get out of here.”
My smile is so big that my cheeks ache, but I embrace it because it feels too good. We slip on our rented helmets, and I rest my visor against hers.
“Anytime, love. Anytime.”
Kate’s hand swings in mine as we stroll the boardwalk.
The breeze here is so salty, I can practically taste it.
I peek down at her, black hair gleaming above gold-rimmed sunglasses.
Contented slurping noises punctuate the air as she finishes off her green smoothie.
She breaks our hand-holding to toss her cup in a nearby garbage can, returning with a bounce and a smile as she slips her hand back into mine where it belongs.
I tip a smile down at her.
She’s going to lose her ever-loving mind when she finds out where I’m taking her.
“May I ask again where we’re going?” she says for the third time.
“You may not, tinkle monkey.” I boop her nose with my finger, and her laugh that slips out is full of life. I gently tug her forward, glancing at the walking directions on my phone. “But you can see for yourself.”
We round the corner, and I point to a yellow-shuttered building.
“The Wandering Click?” Kate’s brows pinch into an adorable “v”. “What is that?”
“A tourist do-it-yourself darkroom studio.”
Her jaw drops even as the corners of her mouth pull wide.
“Are you serious?!”
I laugh, soaking in the buzz of her excitement. “Dead serious. I know how much you loved the darkroom studio at UIC, so I thought maybe—”
She launches herself into my arms with a squeal, and I don’t even have to anticipate how I’ll catch her. Don’t have to think twice about where she’ll fit.
She peppers kisses against my cheek before either of us register what she’s doing.
Her eyes blow wide as she freezes. “Sorry. I was just—”
“I know,” I chuckle. “Don’t worry about it.”
She slides against my body to the ground, then takes off running.
I jog to keep up with her, catching the door as the bell jingles above us.
The employees soon mirror Kate’s enthusiasm, excited to be hosting someone so experienced for the next hour.
It doesn’t take long before Kate is equipped with one of their cameras and a ten minute timeframe.
We leave our drivers licenses as collateral before they turn us free on the town to snap a few photos.
“Ohmygosh. Hang on,” Kate exclaims, tugging me to a stop beneath an awning. She sweeps her sunglasses over her hair and beams up at me, looking more like the girl I met in college with every passing second.
“Give me two minutes, okay?”
“I’ll even give you three.” I wink.
She rolls her eyes with a grin, then carefully darts to the other side of the street.
I see what she’s aiming for, now. A myriad of umbrellas hang strung in the air between two shops. The rows of umbrellas form a sort of shade roof, bright coastal colors foregrounding the azure sky. I’m rooted in place as I watch Kate come alive.
I can’t see through her viewfinder from here, but I don’t need to in order to tell the photos will be spectacular.
It’s in the angled crook of her elbow, how she alternates her stance to line up her shots.
I’ve never paid much attention to umbrellas, but I doubt I’ll ever be able to look at them the same again.
Not after I’ve seen them through Kate’s perspective.
Kate skips back to me with a radiant flush to her cheeks.
Before I know it, I’m bending to press a soft kiss to one of them. It wasn’t an urge. It was a need. An exuberance of life that I had to taste for myself.
Kate’s cheek flushes brighter as I pull away, but she doesn’t look mad. If anything, her eyes seem shinier as they flick to my mouth and back again.
And I swear, if she was mine, really mine, I’d kiss her senseless right here and now—tourists be damned. I see my conflict mirrored in her expression.
“Would you two lovebirds like a photo of yourselves?” An older lady with wrinkled apples for cheeks smiles at the two of us, a visor-clad husband beside her.
Our laughs are awkward and stilted, but neither of us has the heart to tell her no.
The woman takes the camera before Kate’s palm works its way to the center of my chest. My arm wraps above the swell of her hips, and I fight to hide the fact that every inch of her body pressed to mine feels like pure agony.
I wonder if she can feel the drum of my heart giving me away beneath her hand.
The camera clicks, and the sunny old couple then goes on their way. Our ten minute timer beeps, letting us know the allotted picture-taking time is up.
Kate clears her throat, waving the camera. “Ready to go develop these bad boys?”
“So ready.”
Ironically, the darkroom studio isn’t dark at all. Plain old fluorescent lights illuminate the square room. A tall machine sits perched on one of the counters beside a line of trays and graduated cylinders. Bottles of white-labeled chemicals stand beside a slew of odd-looking instruments.
But Kate roves the room with intention, chatting animatedly with one of the workers. She knows this space and isn’t shy to make it known.
And it’s hot.
The worker provides us both with a set of protective gloves and safety glasses before deeming Kate proficient enough to handle this on her own. Granted, we both signed our livelihood and eyesight away before they even let us close to the equipment.
I slide my protective glasses on while giving Kate a come-hither stare, and she laughs.
“So sexy,” she says. “How do you keep the women off you?”
“By driving them off with my scary fake girlfriend.”
“Ahh. I see.” She giggles, snapping on her rubber gloves.
“Now stop flirting. We’ve got work to do.
Which photo should we develop first?” Kate’s voice is clinical as she spins a tiny lever on the film camera.
A click sounds, and she pops open the back, then withdraws the film canister protecting our negatives.
“Umbrellas. I’ve been dying to see how they turn out.”
“They’ll be black and white,” she warns.
“Don’t care,” I say.
She steps over to a few odd bulb-looking domes on the walls, switching them on to glow red. She cuts the overhead lights, and the next thing I know, we are bathed in scarlet.
The red light deepens the crimson color of her halter top, making her look every bit the vixen she is. She smirks, as if reading my hungry expression through the darkness.
“Focus,” she whispers.
I don’t know why we’re whispering, but talking loud in this dim lighting feels wrong for some reason. After a moment, Kate unspools the negative film from the tiny canister, then lays it across a white surface. She arches closer, scrutinizing the umbrella shots.
“Will you hand me that loupe over there?” she asks, not shifting her gaze.
“The what?”
She puffs a tiny laugh. “Sorry. The small blocky thingy with the magnifying-looking discs.”
I locate the instrument and hand it to her. She barely acknowledges me as she studies two different negatives.
She stands in triumph. “This one.”
“I trust you,” I say.
She uses a small rubber instrument to puff air at the negative before turning to the machine perched on the counter. The contraption juts up almost like a periscope, with stacked trays within its neck and a wide backlit lens-looking thing.
She slides out a hinged metal box from the column of the machine. Carefully placing the negative inside, she closes the lid and slides the tray back into the machine.
“Hand me one of those eight by ten papers, will ya?” she says.
I locate the correct box on the counter and carefully withdraw a sheet.
“Thanks, bunny ears.” She winks, then slides the paper beneath a grid. She positions it just so, then tells me to get ready. Ready for what, I don’t know.
Kate flips on the tall machine, and a humming bright light casts shadows of the negative across the paper.
“Can you hand me the focus finder—sorry, the curved microscope?”
I slide it over, and she fits an eye to the instrument, fiddling with a few wheels and dials on the projector.
“Perfect,” she whispers.
I place a hand on the small of her back so she knows I’m here, and her breath catches.
“Can I see?” I ask.
“Of course.” She straightens to step back, but I curl an arm around her, keeping her close. I peer into the lens. Just as I suspected, the photo is stunning.
“You did good, Kate,” I say without lifting my eye from the lens.
“Thanks,” she whispers.
I straighten but don’t move away. What’s more, she doesn’t seem to want me to either. She presses in front of me to continue her work, and I remain close behind. So close that I brace my arms around her on the counter, my chest brushing the bare skin of her back as I watch her work.
The only indication of any effect I’m having on her is a minute tremble in her latex-gloved fingertips.
A heady sense of attraction infiltrates the red haze in this tiny room, and I don’t know if I can ignore it for much longer.
There’s a red-button timer to the side of the gridlock, and she sets it for twenty-four seconds. She stands, back pressed against my chest, but I still don’t move.
She whispers without looking at me, “You ready?”
“Always,” I breathe. A tiny shiver ripples through her before she presses the button, and the machine glows to life.
And so do I.
I’m burning like the negative in the machine, so lit up for her that I can’t take it anymore.
That silky curve of her neck taunts me from mere inches away, soft and fragrant like her perfume.
The timer clicks down as I dare to trace a finger from the angle of her jaw, down her neck, across the strap of her top, across the arc of her shoulder.
She sucks in a tiny gasp but doesn’t move. Doesn’t shy away from my touch.
I revel in my path down the velvet skin of her upper arm until I reach her elbow. Reversing my path, I drag my touch back up, and she shudders.
The timer beeps.