Devotion: For Love or Honor, page 7
“Oh, honey. It does. What about your mom and dad?” Biting my lip, bombarded with memories leaving me to wonder.
“Well, they did love each other.” I nod.
“Did they argue?”
“A little but sometimes there was this distance between them as if my sisters and I were the only things gluing them together. I always felt my mom thought she could do better than my dad. Does that make sense?”
“Perfectly because your mom is your mom and your dad, was amazing.”
I shake my head, remembering my childhood.
“But your Mom is the ice queen so I doubt there is a man alive that could keep warm next to that.” I laugh, fearing, my best friend is correct in her assumption. I mutter.
“Maybe that is what love is. It is endurance for the long-haul, companionship, comfortable like an old pair of shoes.” She laughs, causing me to giggle through the haze of my tears.
Chapter 6
Jenny
I sigh lost in our moment of clarity as if we alone, us two have discovered the secret of life.
“Geez, Jenny tell me you have not noticed the way that boy stares at you? He looks at you as if he knows your soul.” I shake my head. “No, I am serious, no joke. Has Martin ever looked at you and made you feel the way Mr. Raines looks at you?” Shocked by her words, mouth open enough to catch a bucket of flies then snapping it shut, losing my defense.
“Merrilee, Ryan Raines is playing games. It happens with the seniors they get this case of wanting an older woman, and they act like a stud in heat. It is stupid. I am not risking my career to flirt with a student. I need you to stop teasing me; I do not want to hear Ryan Raines name again. Do you understand?” My words are low and full of frustration as the tears slip from my eyes before I realize what is happening.
“Jen. What happened? And don’t lie to me and tell me this has anything to do with that hunk-of-sexy-god out in the hall, that you now insist you never want me to mention again.” Her attempt at a joke does not go unnoticed as I give a half-hearted laugh before the tears do fall this time down my face in streams. It doesn’t take but a second and I am coming clean about the entire screwed up mess at home and how much worse it has gotten since the episode she witnessed at New Year’s Eve. “Oh, my god. Jen. When are you going to realize that this is not safe? You have to get out of that house, and away from Martin before he hurts you. It is time. You need to move in with me now.”
The first bell rings interrupting our conversation as students file into my first class of the day. My face still wet with tears when Merrilee lowers her voice and adds. “I love you. But I am afraid for your safety. It is time.” Her usually easygoing manner is gone, in its place is a woman full of fury, ready for battle.
My throat clogs, with frustration. Merrilee doesn’t know everything because I have not let her in, and that is all on me. My fault, but when I tell her the truth that I am afraid of my husband, she will make me leave, and then the only way for me to be safe is to leave town. Merrilee walks through the door as the bell rings before I can refocus my attention to the day. I feel a hand touch mine.
My watery eyes lift to meet the hooded gaze of Ryan Raines, the very topic of our conversation from earlier. His hand nudges mine again, following his eyes drifting to our hands and the tissue he places in mine.
“Thank-you, Ryan.”
“Anytime.”
I dab my tears away and get started with my class. Ryan takes his seat at the table; I squash down the unfamiliar burn of jealousy when Christie moves her chair much too close to his while his attention is on the computer screen.
I make my rounds around the room as the focus is on the layout for the next school newspaper due out the end of the week. I stand by with several students as they play with different titles and headlines announcing spring break and the upcoming spring festivities. Along with a compelling article by Seth, another senior about further education options, I find myself forgetting the troubles at home. With just under ten minutes left in the hour and a half class time I hear the one voice, I had hoped to avoid for the rest of the available time.
I have allowed this flirting to go on much too long, and with my situation at home changing rapidly, I don’t want Ryan hurt in the process when I leave town suddenly.
“Mrs. Stephenson, can you take a look at these?” I hold up a finger alerting the sexy senior; I need to finish with the students and the title. After several minutes the headlines are agreed upon, as I move across the room to Ryan, the computer and his latest photos.
#
Ryan
I sit down at my desk, ignoring the girls on either side of me, clambering for my attention. Instead, I watch as Mrs. Stephenson dabs a few tears left on her cheeks. Her eyes damp and misty, glistening as they lift to meet mine, leaving me to wonder what her husband has done now. It is not the first time I have walked into class and seen the evidence of a tear-filled sleepless night. After hearing bits and pieces of conversations between her and Miss Hargreaves about he did this or that. They are quick to stop when I near, what I would not give to make all her days, happy ones.
I wait until the last few minutes of class before I ask for her assistance. I clamp down on my nerves with wanting to show Jenny my latest work. Only a few of the prints are for the actual paper, the others I planned to submit to a photography contest. I have been trying to find the right time to do this, knowing she has an open period after this class, and I have a little bit of extra time before I need to leave for work.
When I see my teacher approaching, I check the clock and almost wonder if she stalled on purpose of not having to spend much time talking to me before the bell rings. Mrs. Stephenson knows I have free time before work, and her classroom will be empty. I motion to the two annoying girls on either side of me, suggesting to them to leave, ignoring their stares. But they comply because girls will do anything, I ask them to do, ever since junior high when my body expanded to full muscle, and I started winning football games, I became the guy every girl wanted and the one every guy hated.
I don’t care I am not into high school girls, having played in the minor leagues. I listened to their petty arguments and drama. The next time I get a girlfriend, it will be a mature relationship or not one at all. I do not play games, never have, and never will.
Jenny sits down next to me as the remainder of the class files out waving off the last of her instructions. I open the file I wanted to show her, inhaling the soft scent of her perfume as the classroom empties, leaving only us.
“Hey. Don’t you have to get to work?” I watch her lips, move and hear her words, but my brain is caught up in the pale pink of her rosy lips, and the way they part when she speaks. “Ryan.”
“Sorry. I zoned out. I have some time if you are not busy?”
“No. I am free.”
Not surprised, I open the file.
“I didn’t want anyone else to see these.” I watch her face light up when I click on the first image. Her small tongue slips past her lips before her teeth graze against the cotton candy pink lip holding still.
“These aren’t for the paper.”
“No. I wanted your opinion. I want to enter the Baker-Merritt Annual Photo Contest; the deadline is the first of April. I have several I have already taken, and I plan on getting some more over spring break.” Our eyes meet, something passing between us, a strangely quiet understanding. “I well. I wondered if you would help me pick the best one to submit.”
“I would love too. You are quite talented from what I have already seen.” I show her image after image, asking questions, and commenting with each one. My heart pounds having my body this close to hers, smelling her and feeling the warmth of her at my side. She leans further to stare at the image as I reach out, turning the screen towards her direction. Jenny’s shoulder brushes my arm, and for the briefest of seconds, I feel as if something is brewing deep under the surface, and then it is gone when she pushes her chair back and stands.
“Ryan. You are good; in all honesty, you have a raw talent for photography. But do you want my honest opinion?”
Do I? I hesitate, almost scared of her continuing.
#
Jenny
I stand to break the connection I feel building between us, much too intimate sitting so close to him. I stare at his short brown hair, his hazel green eyes beneath long lashes and perfectly plush lips someday there will be a woman who will get to enjoy these sexy looks of this young man. Sadly, it will not be me; I focus on the professionalism of the moment and not the slight scruff on his chin from his lack of shaving this morning.
“Ryan, do you want my honest opinion?”
“Yes, mam. That is why I want your help because I know you will give it to me straight.”
My heart pounds at his words, still mesmerized by the silky depths of his voice. Ooh. I tamp down on my inner self, returning myself to that of his teacher.
“Okay. Here it goes. Your work is magnificent.” His eyes perked up then hesitate, knowing there is more. I lean my hips onto the table until we are closer to eye level. Closing out the file he pulls the zip drive, pocketing it as he stands, now I am looking up to him. “But.” He laughs.
“I was waiting for the, but.” He teases.
“Ha. You said to be honest.” I giggle.
“Always.”
His word holds an entirely different meaning that one day when I am very old and gray, lonely by the fire, I will revisit this moment and wonder why I did not throw caution to the wind and just kiss the boy. But for now, I do not dare as I ignore the way his lips part right before he begins to speak. My eyes dart away from the desired shape of his lips, returning to meet his gaze.
“Your work is magnificent, but it appears you are photographing what you think the judges will like, not for what speaks to you here.” I softly place my hand over his heart, equally surprised as him when he places his hand atop mine. “Ryan, your images need to speak to you. And, if they speak to you. You will bring out the beauty in them, and the judges will witness it also.” I feel his soft squeeze of my hand before it is gone, leaving me to wonder if I wished for his touch. His look of something maybe confusion says it all. “Let me show you something.”
I leave his side returning to my desk and pulling a zip drive out of my carry bag. I had planned on editing some of my latest work during this free time myself, returning to the chair next to Ryan. I open the drive to reveal a file folder. -choosing the collection, I wish to show him.
“Now these have not had their final edits and are not ready to submit to be published, but here are some examples I wanted to show you.” His jaw drops.
“Wow.” He is mesmerized as I find a renewed love for my work through his eyes. “These are amazing.” He takes in each one from landscapes to people and even a few from the bridal portraits I did. “You do weddings also?”
“Yes. This bride Margaret, her wedding is this Saturday.” I point out to him, where I have taken an everyday item, photographing with new eyes, through angles and lighting.
“I am impressed, Jenny. You are very talented.” Our gazes meet, me feeling crazy warm by him calling me by my first name, while another one of those sparks of electricity passing between us. The zing begins somewhere around my neck, extending south until I feel the bloom of heat deep within my core. “How do I learn to do this?” My eyebrows arch in response to his question. “I mean, how do I find this, passion? That is what you have is a passion for the art.” His level of maturity and insight taking me by surprise surpassing his image, of high school student, as he has done each time, we talked this year.
“I have an idea. What about if I give you an assignment.” His brows perk up, lips curling into a mischievous grin, making me wonder how adventurous he would be in other aspects of life. Shit. Shit. Shit. Stop thinking about that; my cheeks heat as I chastise myself. Can he tell what he does to me? Focus Jenny. Focus. “An assignment where I give you a list of places to photograph and then you show me your passion about these places.” I pull a piece of paper from the printer behind me, using the lone pen on the desk I write out the first ten locations around town with the least amount of interesting subject matter. I slide the paper closer to him, our eyes once again connecting.
Ryan accepts the list I jotted down onto the paper, using his long-tapered fingers to slide the paper across the desk between us. My body lingers near his warmth, hovering, and craving, leaning towards his touch. Reasoning to my brain is doing little to sway off the pounding of desire deep within me, leading to a sharp rise in my body temperature. Shifting on the hard plastic of the chair, I flip through the images as Ryan comments on each one taking the time to point out different aspects. Reaching for the mouse across his body until he leans back allowing me access to the computer while his left arm slips behind my back leaving me to feel the radiant heat from his chest making me want to touch and feel if only to find out if it is as hard as I remembered from that night last fall. Ryan’s hand slips over mine atop the computer mouse, taking direction over the cursor we upload my photo into the editing program.
With a few clicks, his hand molding to mine as we together transform a simple sunrise into a glorious event.
“Wow.” His word is soft and low, a mere breath of whisper, caressing over my ear, lifting the delicate strands of hair as they slip from the knot on top of my head. I lick my lips in anticipation, of another touch, any touch.
Ryan directs our fingers over the mouse, moving over the controls, completing the enhanced version of my artwork, until I am satisfied with the results.
“There. What do you think?” My eyes leave the screen drifting toward Ryan’s face, inches from mine; only his eyes remain riveted to my gaze and not the computer. He lifts our hands from the computer mouse, linked until they rest against the hard wall of his thigh. I swallow hard, the air stifling surrounding us, hot, filled with something resembling pure need. Shit. I can feel the rush of warmth boiling deep inside my belly, a strange and unfamiliar feeling. Before I can halt, my actions, I lick my lips, my mouth dry and tingling, his body moves closer, if even possible. I feel it coming, and as sure as I know I am breathing; I am helpless to control this undeniable pull shooting between us. His hand has left mine, against the firm muscle clenching beneath my touch; lifting, making me wonder where he will touch me first. I am not left long to wonder when his fingers reach out until I can feel the rough pad of his thumb rub slowly against my jawline skating across my skin, leaving a fiery trail in its wake.
“Um...Ryan…Someone’s going to...”
I release the words on a breathless whisper. His hand drops to his lap, burned from our heat.
“Jenny. I am...”
Words escape us both as we rise, putting a significant amount of space between us. Moving away from the desk, and the intimacy of the moment separating our bodies from temptation as I reach for the solid surface of my desk before my shaky legs can drop me to the floor. I can feel him once again, near, silently, I beg for him to go. Go now before I cross that line.
“Jenny?”
“Yes, Ryan?”
“Um… Thank you for your help.”
“No problem. I can’t wait to see what you bring in on Friday.”
Our words hold an unspoken conversation where we don’t dare allow. I watch him walk out, waiting until the door closes before I collapse in my chair, head on the desk, my body quivering in his wake, wondering what-the-hell-just happened. All, I can think about is wondering how his full lips would feel when I finally give in to this whatever this is, and they finally touch mine.
#
Ryan
I leave the school, my heart pounding in my chest. Shit. I was so close to kissing Jenny, and that was never my intention. Her soft body next to mine was too much, making me forget I need to wait. I have no choice; I have the patience to wait.
Pushing aside the images in my head, I focus on the list of places to visit over the next three days. Mrs. Stephenson wants to see my progress on Friday after class. I can’t wait to be able to sit down beside her again in the empty classroom; next time, I will control my actions. I drive to work, her scrolled handwriting on the piece of paper in the center console of my jeep, where I placed it after looking at it several times before I decided I did not want to mess up the piece of paper. I pull into my dad’s mechanic shop, changing into my coveralls, ready for the remainder of the day.
Several hours in, I finish the car I had been working on since last Friday. I plan on talking to my dad about the photography challenge.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, son. Are you finished with Martinez’s car?"
“All done. I called, will be here to pick it up at five.”
“Great. The bill ready?”
“Yes. Hey, I have an assignment I need to do for my class at school. I was wondering if I can leave each day this week at four-thirty so I can have it completed by Friday?” He eyes me warily; I watch as he studies me, a habit that started with my older brother in his teens when he would lie to my dad then proceeds to get into trouble. I never wanted to end up like my brother; I am the complete opposite in fact. Where Robby started doing little things in grade school, stealing other kid’s belongings and then blaming it on his friends, he began skipping school by sixth grade. By the time my mom got sick the first time, he had bumped it up to petty theft and other crimes around the neighborhood. It seems my mother’s illness was just the trigger to push him over the edge into a life of crime and the wrong crowd. My dad had his hands full between taking over the mechanics shop from my grandfather, trying to expand the business to help support the family and take care of my mother there were never enough hours left in the day to try to make Rob do the right thing.
By his sixteenth birthday, the small amount of gang activity in our town was just enough to lure him away from our family. It still hurts, the memory of my mother and father witnessing his decisions.
My mom’s illness returned with a vengeance around the same time; Robby began leaving home more often. I had finished up my freshmen year spending every minute I could taking care of her during summer vacation while my dad was at work. I took over the cooking, cleaning, and her care; my brother was never home. By that time, we had lost both of my grandparents, leaving only some aunts and uncles that were helpful, bringing food over and helping with things at the house and the shop. My dad is the youngest of three boys who all served in the Marines as did my grandfather and his dad before him; with my brother Rob, a guest of the State of Pennsylvania, that leaves it up to me to fulfill the family tradition.
“Well, they did love each other.” I nod.
“Did they argue?”
“A little but sometimes there was this distance between them as if my sisters and I were the only things gluing them together. I always felt my mom thought she could do better than my dad. Does that make sense?”
“Perfectly because your mom is your mom and your dad, was amazing.”
I shake my head, remembering my childhood.
“But your Mom is the ice queen so I doubt there is a man alive that could keep warm next to that.” I laugh, fearing, my best friend is correct in her assumption. I mutter.
“Maybe that is what love is. It is endurance for the long-haul, companionship, comfortable like an old pair of shoes.” She laughs, causing me to giggle through the haze of my tears.
Chapter 6
Jenny
I sigh lost in our moment of clarity as if we alone, us two have discovered the secret of life.
“Geez, Jenny tell me you have not noticed the way that boy stares at you? He looks at you as if he knows your soul.” I shake my head. “No, I am serious, no joke. Has Martin ever looked at you and made you feel the way Mr. Raines looks at you?” Shocked by her words, mouth open enough to catch a bucket of flies then snapping it shut, losing my defense.
“Merrilee, Ryan Raines is playing games. It happens with the seniors they get this case of wanting an older woman, and they act like a stud in heat. It is stupid. I am not risking my career to flirt with a student. I need you to stop teasing me; I do not want to hear Ryan Raines name again. Do you understand?” My words are low and full of frustration as the tears slip from my eyes before I realize what is happening.
“Jen. What happened? And don’t lie to me and tell me this has anything to do with that hunk-of-sexy-god out in the hall, that you now insist you never want me to mention again.” Her attempt at a joke does not go unnoticed as I give a half-hearted laugh before the tears do fall this time down my face in streams. It doesn’t take but a second and I am coming clean about the entire screwed up mess at home and how much worse it has gotten since the episode she witnessed at New Year’s Eve. “Oh, my god. Jen. When are you going to realize that this is not safe? You have to get out of that house, and away from Martin before he hurts you. It is time. You need to move in with me now.”
The first bell rings interrupting our conversation as students file into my first class of the day. My face still wet with tears when Merrilee lowers her voice and adds. “I love you. But I am afraid for your safety. It is time.” Her usually easygoing manner is gone, in its place is a woman full of fury, ready for battle.
My throat clogs, with frustration. Merrilee doesn’t know everything because I have not let her in, and that is all on me. My fault, but when I tell her the truth that I am afraid of my husband, she will make me leave, and then the only way for me to be safe is to leave town. Merrilee walks through the door as the bell rings before I can refocus my attention to the day. I feel a hand touch mine.
My watery eyes lift to meet the hooded gaze of Ryan Raines, the very topic of our conversation from earlier. His hand nudges mine again, following his eyes drifting to our hands and the tissue he places in mine.
“Thank-you, Ryan.”
“Anytime.”
I dab my tears away and get started with my class. Ryan takes his seat at the table; I squash down the unfamiliar burn of jealousy when Christie moves her chair much too close to his while his attention is on the computer screen.
I make my rounds around the room as the focus is on the layout for the next school newspaper due out the end of the week. I stand by with several students as they play with different titles and headlines announcing spring break and the upcoming spring festivities. Along with a compelling article by Seth, another senior about further education options, I find myself forgetting the troubles at home. With just under ten minutes left in the hour and a half class time I hear the one voice, I had hoped to avoid for the rest of the available time.
I have allowed this flirting to go on much too long, and with my situation at home changing rapidly, I don’t want Ryan hurt in the process when I leave town suddenly.
“Mrs. Stephenson, can you take a look at these?” I hold up a finger alerting the sexy senior; I need to finish with the students and the title. After several minutes the headlines are agreed upon, as I move across the room to Ryan, the computer and his latest photos.
#
Ryan
I sit down at my desk, ignoring the girls on either side of me, clambering for my attention. Instead, I watch as Mrs. Stephenson dabs a few tears left on her cheeks. Her eyes damp and misty, glistening as they lift to meet mine, leaving me to wonder what her husband has done now. It is not the first time I have walked into class and seen the evidence of a tear-filled sleepless night. After hearing bits and pieces of conversations between her and Miss Hargreaves about he did this or that. They are quick to stop when I near, what I would not give to make all her days, happy ones.
I wait until the last few minutes of class before I ask for her assistance. I clamp down on my nerves with wanting to show Jenny my latest work. Only a few of the prints are for the actual paper, the others I planned to submit to a photography contest. I have been trying to find the right time to do this, knowing she has an open period after this class, and I have a little bit of extra time before I need to leave for work.
When I see my teacher approaching, I check the clock and almost wonder if she stalled on purpose of not having to spend much time talking to me before the bell rings. Mrs. Stephenson knows I have free time before work, and her classroom will be empty. I motion to the two annoying girls on either side of me, suggesting to them to leave, ignoring their stares. But they comply because girls will do anything, I ask them to do, ever since junior high when my body expanded to full muscle, and I started winning football games, I became the guy every girl wanted and the one every guy hated.
I don’t care I am not into high school girls, having played in the minor leagues. I listened to their petty arguments and drama. The next time I get a girlfriend, it will be a mature relationship or not one at all. I do not play games, never have, and never will.
Jenny sits down next to me as the remainder of the class files out waving off the last of her instructions. I open the file I wanted to show her, inhaling the soft scent of her perfume as the classroom empties, leaving only us.
“Hey. Don’t you have to get to work?” I watch her lips, move and hear her words, but my brain is caught up in the pale pink of her rosy lips, and the way they part when she speaks. “Ryan.”
“Sorry. I zoned out. I have some time if you are not busy?”
“No. I am free.”
Not surprised, I open the file.
“I didn’t want anyone else to see these.” I watch her face light up when I click on the first image. Her small tongue slips past her lips before her teeth graze against the cotton candy pink lip holding still.
“These aren’t for the paper.”
“No. I wanted your opinion. I want to enter the Baker-Merritt Annual Photo Contest; the deadline is the first of April. I have several I have already taken, and I plan on getting some more over spring break.” Our eyes meet, something passing between us, a strangely quiet understanding. “I well. I wondered if you would help me pick the best one to submit.”
“I would love too. You are quite talented from what I have already seen.” I show her image after image, asking questions, and commenting with each one. My heart pounds having my body this close to hers, smelling her and feeling the warmth of her at my side. She leans further to stare at the image as I reach out, turning the screen towards her direction. Jenny’s shoulder brushes my arm, and for the briefest of seconds, I feel as if something is brewing deep under the surface, and then it is gone when she pushes her chair back and stands.
“Ryan. You are good; in all honesty, you have a raw talent for photography. But do you want my honest opinion?”
Do I? I hesitate, almost scared of her continuing.
#
Jenny
I stand to break the connection I feel building between us, much too intimate sitting so close to him. I stare at his short brown hair, his hazel green eyes beneath long lashes and perfectly plush lips someday there will be a woman who will get to enjoy these sexy looks of this young man. Sadly, it will not be me; I focus on the professionalism of the moment and not the slight scruff on his chin from his lack of shaving this morning.
“Ryan, do you want my honest opinion?”
“Yes, mam. That is why I want your help because I know you will give it to me straight.”
My heart pounds at his words, still mesmerized by the silky depths of his voice. Ooh. I tamp down on my inner self, returning myself to that of his teacher.
“Okay. Here it goes. Your work is magnificent.” His eyes perked up then hesitate, knowing there is more. I lean my hips onto the table until we are closer to eye level. Closing out the file he pulls the zip drive, pocketing it as he stands, now I am looking up to him. “But.” He laughs.
“I was waiting for the, but.” He teases.
“Ha. You said to be honest.” I giggle.
“Always.”
His word holds an entirely different meaning that one day when I am very old and gray, lonely by the fire, I will revisit this moment and wonder why I did not throw caution to the wind and just kiss the boy. But for now, I do not dare as I ignore the way his lips part right before he begins to speak. My eyes dart away from the desired shape of his lips, returning to meet his gaze.
“Your work is magnificent, but it appears you are photographing what you think the judges will like, not for what speaks to you here.” I softly place my hand over his heart, equally surprised as him when he places his hand atop mine. “Ryan, your images need to speak to you. And, if they speak to you. You will bring out the beauty in them, and the judges will witness it also.” I feel his soft squeeze of my hand before it is gone, leaving me to wonder if I wished for his touch. His look of something maybe confusion says it all. “Let me show you something.”
I leave his side returning to my desk and pulling a zip drive out of my carry bag. I had planned on editing some of my latest work during this free time myself, returning to the chair next to Ryan. I open the drive to reveal a file folder. -choosing the collection, I wish to show him.
“Now these have not had their final edits and are not ready to submit to be published, but here are some examples I wanted to show you.” His jaw drops.
“Wow.” He is mesmerized as I find a renewed love for my work through his eyes. “These are amazing.” He takes in each one from landscapes to people and even a few from the bridal portraits I did. “You do weddings also?”
“Yes. This bride Margaret, her wedding is this Saturday.” I point out to him, where I have taken an everyday item, photographing with new eyes, through angles and lighting.
“I am impressed, Jenny. You are very talented.” Our gazes meet, me feeling crazy warm by him calling me by my first name, while another one of those sparks of electricity passing between us. The zing begins somewhere around my neck, extending south until I feel the bloom of heat deep within my core. “How do I learn to do this?” My eyebrows arch in response to his question. “I mean, how do I find this, passion? That is what you have is a passion for the art.” His level of maturity and insight taking me by surprise surpassing his image, of high school student, as he has done each time, we talked this year.
“I have an idea. What about if I give you an assignment.” His brows perk up, lips curling into a mischievous grin, making me wonder how adventurous he would be in other aspects of life. Shit. Shit. Shit. Stop thinking about that; my cheeks heat as I chastise myself. Can he tell what he does to me? Focus Jenny. Focus. “An assignment where I give you a list of places to photograph and then you show me your passion about these places.” I pull a piece of paper from the printer behind me, using the lone pen on the desk I write out the first ten locations around town with the least amount of interesting subject matter. I slide the paper closer to him, our eyes once again connecting.
Ryan accepts the list I jotted down onto the paper, using his long-tapered fingers to slide the paper across the desk between us. My body lingers near his warmth, hovering, and craving, leaning towards his touch. Reasoning to my brain is doing little to sway off the pounding of desire deep within me, leading to a sharp rise in my body temperature. Shifting on the hard plastic of the chair, I flip through the images as Ryan comments on each one taking the time to point out different aspects. Reaching for the mouse across his body until he leans back allowing me access to the computer while his left arm slips behind my back leaving me to feel the radiant heat from his chest making me want to touch and feel if only to find out if it is as hard as I remembered from that night last fall. Ryan’s hand slips over mine atop the computer mouse, taking direction over the cursor we upload my photo into the editing program.
With a few clicks, his hand molding to mine as we together transform a simple sunrise into a glorious event.
“Wow.” His word is soft and low, a mere breath of whisper, caressing over my ear, lifting the delicate strands of hair as they slip from the knot on top of my head. I lick my lips in anticipation, of another touch, any touch.
Ryan directs our fingers over the mouse, moving over the controls, completing the enhanced version of my artwork, until I am satisfied with the results.
“There. What do you think?” My eyes leave the screen drifting toward Ryan’s face, inches from mine; only his eyes remain riveted to my gaze and not the computer. He lifts our hands from the computer mouse, linked until they rest against the hard wall of his thigh. I swallow hard, the air stifling surrounding us, hot, filled with something resembling pure need. Shit. I can feel the rush of warmth boiling deep inside my belly, a strange and unfamiliar feeling. Before I can halt, my actions, I lick my lips, my mouth dry and tingling, his body moves closer, if even possible. I feel it coming, and as sure as I know I am breathing; I am helpless to control this undeniable pull shooting between us. His hand has left mine, against the firm muscle clenching beneath my touch; lifting, making me wonder where he will touch me first. I am not left long to wonder when his fingers reach out until I can feel the rough pad of his thumb rub slowly against my jawline skating across my skin, leaving a fiery trail in its wake.
“Um...Ryan…Someone’s going to...”
I release the words on a breathless whisper. His hand drops to his lap, burned from our heat.
“Jenny. I am...”
Words escape us both as we rise, putting a significant amount of space between us. Moving away from the desk, and the intimacy of the moment separating our bodies from temptation as I reach for the solid surface of my desk before my shaky legs can drop me to the floor. I can feel him once again, near, silently, I beg for him to go. Go now before I cross that line.
“Jenny?”
“Yes, Ryan?”
“Um… Thank you for your help.”
“No problem. I can’t wait to see what you bring in on Friday.”
Our words hold an unspoken conversation where we don’t dare allow. I watch him walk out, waiting until the door closes before I collapse in my chair, head on the desk, my body quivering in his wake, wondering what-the-hell-just happened. All, I can think about is wondering how his full lips would feel when I finally give in to this whatever this is, and they finally touch mine.
#
Ryan
I leave the school, my heart pounding in my chest. Shit. I was so close to kissing Jenny, and that was never my intention. Her soft body next to mine was too much, making me forget I need to wait. I have no choice; I have the patience to wait.
Pushing aside the images in my head, I focus on the list of places to visit over the next three days. Mrs. Stephenson wants to see my progress on Friday after class. I can’t wait to be able to sit down beside her again in the empty classroom; next time, I will control my actions. I drive to work, her scrolled handwriting on the piece of paper in the center console of my jeep, where I placed it after looking at it several times before I decided I did not want to mess up the piece of paper. I pull into my dad’s mechanic shop, changing into my coveralls, ready for the remainder of the day.
Several hours in, I finish the car I had been working on since last Friday. I plan on talking to my dad about the photography challenge.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, son. Are you finished with Martinez’s car?"
“All done. I called, will be here to pick it up at five.”
“Great. The bill ready?”
“Yes. Hey, I have an assignment I need to do for my class at school. I was wondering if I can leave each day this week at four-thirty so I can have it completed by Friday?” He eyes me warily; I watch as he studies me, a habit that started with my older brother in his teens when he would lie to my dad then proceeds to get into trouble. I never wanted to end up like my brother; I am the complete opposite in fact. Where Robby started doing little things in grade school, stealing other kid’s belongings and then blaming it on his friends, he began skipping school by sixth grade. By the time my mom got sick the first time, he had bumped it up to petty theft and other crimes around the neighborhood. It seems my mother’s illness was just the trigger to push him over the edge into a life of crime and the wrong crowd. My dad had his hands full between taking over the mechanics shop from my grandfather, trying to expand the business to help support the family and take care of my mother there were never enough hours left in the day to try to make Rob do the right thing.
By his sixteenth birthday, the small amount of gang activity in our town was just enough to lure him away from our family. It still hurts, the memory of my mother and father witnessing his decisions.
My mom’s illness returned with a vengeance around the same time; Robby began leaving home more often. I had finished up my freshmen year spending every minute I could taking care of her during summer vacation while my dad was at work. I took over the cooking, cleaning, and her care; my brother was never home. By that time, we had lost both of my grandparents, leaving only some aunts and uncles that were helpful, bringing food over and helping with things at the house and the shop. My dad is the youngest of three boys who all served in the Marines as did my grandfather and his dad before him; with my brother Rob, a guest of the State of Pennsylvania, that leaves it up to me to fulfill the family tradition.
