My heart raced, but Lucas pulled away, keeping our fingers intertwined, but giving us some space. He needed little direction, flowing from pose to pose with ease. I tried to follow his lead, and sometimes he turned me one way or another before anyone else could offer instruction. He had no problem touching me, keeping close enough to make my heart pound in some photos, and my breath catch.
I didn’t really like to be touched, but nothing Lucas did made me want to pull away. His touch was gentle and warm, confident and comforting all at once. We even had a few shots of him wrapping his arms around me from behind, leaning over my shoulder to smile as I looked back at him. His breath warm on my face, smelling of peppermint. My stomach rolled in an odd rollercoaster of fear and excitement. I didn’t remember raising my hand to touch his cheek, but it was suddenly there, and everyone loved it. His skin was soft and warm.
The final wardrobe change had me standing in front of the full-length mirror on the verge of panic. Part exhaustion, part the dress, which was a spaghetti strap thing in a pale mint green. Rachel styled my hair up into some sort of twirl, leaving small curls to touch my neck. Anna applied smokey makeup to my eyes, which made the pastel blue-green color of them stand out against my naturally tan skin. The mascara felt heavy, and she even glued a fake set of longer lashes over my own. I did not like those at all, though my eyes looked huge, like something I could focus on with the camera and capture my soul.
The dress was more of a party style, cinched at the waist. A strapless push-up bra gave me boobs I didn’t have, and pinched a little at the back, but in the dress looked okay. Enough covered, even though I felt a little vulnerable and bare with naked shoulders. Missy added a chunky blue necklace, wrapping it twice around my throat to make it more of a choker and hide the slight bump of my Adam’s apple.
The shoes were the worst. White heels, with too many straps wrapping halfway up to my knees. My legs bare as the cut of the skirt swooped from just above the knee in front to a long train in back. Standing in the shoes was a bit of a nightmare. The heel back more of a narrow stick than anything normal people should stand on. I clung to Missy’s hand, trying not to breathe for fear of falling over.
The reflection didn’t look like me. That pretty girl, foreign, and yet, not bad? I felt pretty, like maybe it would be okay for people to see me this way and think I was pretty? As long as they didn’t know it was me. I’d never hear the end of it, even from James who usually stood up for me.
I worried at my lower lip. Was it strange to like it? My eyes looked like magic, and I longed for a camera to try to capture it. Was that all because of the makeup?
“Don’t bite,” Anna instructed.
It took the three of them to escort me back to the studio area without me falling on my face or tearing the dress. The shoes were too much. But Lucas stood there smiling. Grin more real than I’d seen all day as he stared at me. He had dimples. I was wondering if he’d let me get a picture of them so I could study them. He was in a white suit looking thing, flower in the pocket and everything. Formal wear? We looked ready for a dance. The heels bringing me almost to his height. I rocked in the shoes as I tried to take a step. He caught me, holding me up as everyone flowed around us to create the scene, adding flowers and shifting lights.
“Sorry,” I whispered, his hands clinging firmly to my waist. “Crazy shoes.”
“They are a bit over-the-top,” Lucas agreed, but didn’t let go.
We moved through a dozen more photos, all a lot of repositioning required, until Lucas held up a hand. His expression annoyed. I frowned at him, thinking I’d done something wrong. But he half knelt and undid the strap of one shoe, sliding it off my foot and then the next, tossing them aside, and pulling me back into his arms. “Better,” he said close to my ear.
“No more monster shoes,” I agreed.
We danced a bit through the last set. That strange sway of movement, that brought us closer. Our last shot together was us close enough to touch noses, his breath warm on my face, I hope I didn’t smell of sweat and Pop-Tarts to him. His smile when he looked at me felt genuine, not the tight and semi-neutral edge he gave the camera, but a comforting lift of his lips each time our eyes met.
“Just a little closer,” I heard Patty call. Lucas’s arm tight around my waist meant we couldn’t get any closer. We were in a full body hug. “It’s called the Sweetheart line for a reason.”Snap. Snap. “There we go. Tory, tilt your head up toward Lucas, right there.”
Where had all the air gone? Did Lucas feel lightheaded too? His blue eyes intense, body warm against me, lips close. The position leaving us a breath away from a kiss, and the camera snapped away, my eyes locked on his. I never thought half a blink later Lucas would close that gap and kiss me.
I heard a loud gasp, felt the heat of his lips on mine, a welcome warmth and the shock of the touch. My heart raced, and I blinked into his face one second, then everything went dark.
