Chapter 10: FEELINGS AND THREATS

MIA

"Okay. Try to relax your shoulders a bit."

Dante adjusted and I took the shot. This session felt different from the others as it was less tense Like we'd both decided to stop pretending this was purely professional and just let it be what it was.

Whatever that was.

"Tell me something," I said, lowering the camera. "Something nobody knows."

"That's broad."

"I know. But we've been doing this for three sessions and I still know almost nothing about you."

He looked away momentarily as he thought about it. "My father died when I was sixteen."

Everywhere went dead silent. I hadn't expected him to go there and share something so personal.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"It was a long time ago."

"That doesn't make it easier."

"No." He looked at me directly. "But it made me who I am."

I took a shot without thinking. The picture showed a man carrying a heavy burden he was trying to ignore,I had captured raw human emotion in the best way possible.

"What about you?" he asked. "Tell me something nobody knows."

"I almost gave up photography once. Right after college and thought maybe I should get a real job instead of chasing something that might never work out."

"What changed your mind?"

"I realized I didn't know how to be anything else."

"That's not giving up. That's commitment and I'm proud of you for it."

My heart fluttered at his words. Dante always knew what to say to me and I felt like we had such a deep connection that made us understand each other very well.

"Tell me about growing up," I said. "Were you always this serious?"

"Serious?"

"Yes. You always look like you're thinking three steps ahead of the next person.”

He almost smiled. "You make it sound exhausting."

"Isn't it?"

"Sometimes." He shifted his weight. "I moved around a lot as a kid because we were a military family. So we never stayed anywhere long enough to call it home so in a sense I did learn how to think three steps ahead and be ready always.."

"That sounds lonely."

"It was practical. You learn not to get attached to places or people."

"Is that why you don't talk about yourself? Because you learned not to get attached?"

"Maybe." He tilted his head slightly. "Or maybe I just don't think I'm that interesting."

"I think you're lying."

He laughed out loud and it surprised me. His entire face transformed,eyes wrinkling in the corners making him look younger. Slowly, I brought up my camera and took a picture. As the shutter clinked, his eyes found mine and for a second we just looked at each other.

Then the moment passed and his expression fell out like someone had hit reset

"Did you get it?" he asked.

"Yes."

He nodded once. "Good."

I wanted to ask what that meant. I also wanted to know if he'd let me photograph him laughing on purpose or if it had just happened. But something told me he wouldn't answer honestly either way.

We finished the session with a little conversation. He told me about the different cities he lived in. I told him about the time I'd accidentally deleted an entire shoot and had to reshoot everything the next day.

"I think that's enough for today," I said after checking the last batch of shots.

"Already?"

"We've been at it for two hours. I have more than enough material."

"When's the next one?"

"I'm not sure there needs to be a next one. I have everything I need for the editorial."

Something flickered across his face but it was gone before I could read it. "So we're done?"

"With the sessions. Yeah."

"But not with this." He gestured between us. Whatever this was.

"No. Not with this."

He stepped closer and reached out, his hand coming up to cup my face. His thumb brushed my cheekbone and I forgot how to breathe.

"You're beautiful," he said quietly. "I'm glad I met you."

It wasn't just what he said but how it seemed he had wanted to say it for a long time and couldn't keep it inside anymore.

"I'm glad I met you too."

He held my gaze for another second then dropped his hand and stepped back. "I should go and let you work."

"Yeah. Okay."

He left and I stood in my studio for a full minute trying to figure out what had just happened. We'd crossed a line. Multiple lines. And neither of us had tried to stop it.

I packed up the equipment slowly, my mind still on the way he'd touched my face

Then I sat down at my laptop and started editing.

I opened the photo of his laugh for the twentieth time.

It was perfect and completely unguarded. It was the kind of shot that won awards.

But I wasn't thinking about awards. I was thinking about how badly I wanted to see that expression again. How I wanted to know what he looked like when he wasn't always guarded with or without laughing and let himself just be.

My phone buzzed from the unknown number.

My stomach dropped before I even opened it.

Why do you keep taking pictures of him? You're making me jealous. And trust me, you don't want to see me jealous.

I dropped the phone like it burned me.

I picked up the phone with shaking hands and read the message again. The threat was clear. Stop photographing him, stop looking at him and stop whatever this was before they made me.

But how were they watching? The windows were too high. The doors were locked. I'd checked everything after the last message.

I needed to report this.