Chapter 37
thirty-seven
PRESENT DAY
KATE
Ibusy the quiver in my hands as I withdraw the undeveloped print from the easel, dropping it immediately into the first of the chemical trays the staff member set out for us.
She already assured me that each of the chemicals are a steady sixty-seven degrees, so I don’t bother to use the thermometer.
“S-set that timer for sixty seconds, please,” I croak. The timer clicks.
Each nerve is a live wire as Brandon brushes behind me again, sweeping his fingers across the nape of my neck.
“Sixty whole seconds,” he breathes into the dip of my neck, and I swear I feel the press of his lips as he dips his nose against my skin.
“What are you doing, Brandon?” I whisper.
“I thought it was obvious,” he chuckles darkly.
“But no one can even see us here.”
“They could walk in here at any minute,” he murmurs, tugging the swell of my hip around to face him.
I tremble beneath his stare, his touch.
“What are you doing, Brandon?” I repeat, the ache in my voice both a plea to stop and continue. My heart hammers a mile a minute as his lips draw closer to mine.
“The rules,” I say. “We’re friends.”
“Is that what you still want?” he whispers across my shallow breaths.
“I–I don’t know.”
His thumb traces my cupid’s bow, dropping a line across my bottom lip to my chin, which he takes captive with intent.
There is no glowing forging iron here.
No basket of toppling apples ready to shatter this dream.
Because this isn’t a dream.
This is real, complicated, and reckless.
I’m aching with desire as he continues to tease me. Tempt me.
“Tell me to stop, Kate,” he whispers. “Tell me not to kiss you.”
“I…I can’t,” I admit as the red haze in the room begins to spin.
His lips crackle the air at the corner of my mouth, still not quite touching.
I sense the need to take a deep breath before we plunge into this forbidden sea, the depths of which I don’t think either of us are aware of. I heave a breath into my aching lungs as Brandon’s lips approach mine.
The timer beeps, and we freeze.
I’m forced to withdraw the print or risk it overdeveloping.
I unpin myself from the counter to transfer the print, submerging it into the stop solution without allowing the tongs to contaminate the new chemical.
It only needs ten seconds to halt the development process, so I count my ragged breaths instead of a timer.
Brandon stays silent as I move the print from the stop bath to the fix bath.
I silently count thirty more seconds, still frozen with my back to him. I fear if I take one look at the hunger in his eyes, I’ll crack.
But I can’t let myself go there. Cannot give in. Because I refuse to break his heart again. He promised we could stay friends after all of this. And that’s what I need. What we only ever can be.
I move the developed print from the fix bath to the sink in the corner, running water over it until it’s clean enough to be submerged in the siphoned water tank for the next few minutes.
I grip the counter, still facing it.
“Kate.” Brandon’s tone is heavy but no longer heady. “I’m sorry. I—”
“It’s okay.” My voice sounds far steadier than I feel, and I turn to face him. “It was bound to happen at some point, given our history.”
He quirks a tiny smile. “True.”
He opens his mouth to speak but is cut off by a loud ringtone in his pocket. His eyes seek permission, and I gesture for him to answer. He makes a quarter turn away and accepts the call.
“Hey, Mom, what’s up? No, sorry, I’m still in Marisol Bay.
Why isn’t Chaz picking you up?” Something like anger flashes in his green eyes before he stabs the call on speaker with a mouthed apology to me.
His fingers fly across his screen. “I can have Tuck or Julia come get you and take you back to work. What mechanic are you at?”
“Ted’s Auto Body. Thanks, hon. They’re taking forever on this oil change, and if I miss this showing, I could lose my client.”
I’ve never met his mom, but she has a naturally buoyant tone.
After a minute, Brandon responds. “Jules just texted that she’s on her way.”
“Oh, what a relief. K, now let’s talk vacay. How’s Kate—”
Brandon flicks off the speaker phone, his cheeks flushing even redder in the crimson light. “Let’s talk later, Mom.”
I hear her muffled protest even as he tells her he loves her and clicks off the call.
We both give a wary chuckle, but he continues to tighten his jaw. But I get the sense that the newfound tension is not about me.
Casually, I begin to set up the enlarging machine with the next negative of Brandon and me. “Everything okay?”
“It’s fine.”
“Brandon,” I chide softly, watching his walls raise like a barricade. I nudge my shoulder against his. “Talk to me.”
“It’s…” He tilts his head. “Complicated.”
“What’s new?” I chuff a laugh, one he returns.
It breaks him out of his shell, and he reclines his hips against the counter behind us.
“I think Mom and Chaz have been having issues. He’s a good guy, nothing like the trash she used to date, but still. Last time she got dumped…”
Puzzle pieces hang in the air, and I begin to fit them together like the grid over the empty paper.
“Was that the night of her accident?”
He sighs, but bobs his head. “Hard to trust my mom with anyone after that.”
“Oh.” It’s all I say, but I continue to spin the focus wheel. Amantha’s words from our phone call echo in my mind, and I attempt to organize them into something that might help.
“People can change, Brandon. I mean, look at us.”
His chest rises in a soft laugh, then falls still.
“Maybe she has too,” I supply.
“She has changed,” he agrees, but his forlorn expression doesn’t budge. “She does change, over and over again, but it never lasts.”
“What does your dad think of Chaz?” I ask. “I don’t remember you saying anything about him.”
Silence gathers for a long moment before Brandon mutters, “He’s never been in the picture.”
This information sits heavily on my heart, weight expounding by the second. The reverence with which he talks about Tuck’s dad makes so much sense now. Why his concern over his mom is so much more dire.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I murmur. “For the both of you.”
The weight of his pain presses down on us, and I know I can’t be the one to fix it. So I set the exposure timer, slip my hand into his and bear the burden beside him.
As the seconds pass, a weary smile tugs Brandon’s mouth, and a bit of worry fades from his eyes. He pulls me into a long hug, and I drink in the smell and feel of him.
“Thanks, Kate.”
The timer beeps, and I submerge the photo of Brandon and me into the dev solution before pressing my hips back against the counter with a grin.
“You’re welcome, fake boyfriend.”
I think his mouth tightens, but he slips it beneath a charming grin before saying, “Now let’s see these prints.”