That dimpled smile reappeared. “Food it is then.” He got up and held up an arm as if to escort me to the buffet. I walked with him to the end, and grabbed a plate, filling it. Categorizing things by color. Mom always reminded me to have a balance of colors on my plate. Eat the first plate of color and I could go and get other things with less color, like pastries.
I sat back down for a moment, only to realize I needed to get a drink too, and made my way over to get juice. When I got back to the table Lucas was there with three plates, lots of pastries and not much color. I sat down as he sipped coffee. I’d never been a fan of the bitter flavor of it, but liked the smell.
“You had another photo shoot last night?” I asked him. He didn’t look tired.
“I did. Just me, so it’s usually a bit more subdued. Less people around. What did you do yesterday?”
“I got a new camera,” I blurted instead of telling him I had tried to figure out how to be a girl for him.
“Yeah? It’s better than the one you had before?”
“Yes. Lots more digital options, bigger zoom, lots of lenses I can add. My dad is going to take me to the camera shop this week and see if I can trade my old camera and lenses for some new lenses. I need to update the tripod too; this camera is a bit bigger than what I had. Heavier.” My arms were a bit sore from both the unusual posing yesterday and holding the new camera up last night.
“What sorts of things do you like to take pictures of?” he asked.
“Lots of things. Everything? Flowers. Trees. Sunlight. People. Animals. Things are easier. Landscapes are hard. The colors never quite the same as what I see. What about you? Do you like to be in pictures? Or is there something else you like to do?” None of the gossip talked about Lucas outside of his work. Was that his passion?
“It’s a job. Some days it’s nice. Like yesterday. Always work, but not annoying.”
“It’s annoying that people want pictures of you?”
“It’s what comes from it that is annoying. Everyone wants my attention. Like talking to me somehow makes them better. Because being in pictures makes me better than everyone else? It’s just a photo,” he frowned and picked at his plate.
“Everyone looks up to you because you’re sort of a celebrity.”
“That’s a weird concept, isn’t it? Being famous because people see your picture around? You’ll experience that yourself soon enough. All it takes is one photo to hit big and suddenly everyone thinks they know you.” He sounded sad.
How would I feel if everyone started following me around? Strange probably. “I never planned for any of this to happen. Yesterday was supposed to be a normal day working with my aunt, learning photo stuff.” I finished my food, not wanting to go back for seconds as a knot twisted in my gut. I didn’t want to be one of those people who used him, or pretended to know him.
“I’d love to take pictures of you,” I told him. “Not for money or anything, but because the camera likes you.”
He gave me another warm smile. “You can take whatever pictures of me you want. Seems silly though, since I’m sitting right here.”
“I don’t mean it that way. Like the real you is less than the photo of you. I like talking to you. It’s just…” I had no idea how to explain. “Sometimes the world is easier to handle when it’s through a filter, like a camera lens. Like I see something and want to capture the moment forever, the play of light and color, the spring of emotion inside that the image provokes. Not like clothing pictures normally do.” Though that picture of the moment before our kiss was something I hoped to treasure for a long time. There was an intensity of emotion in that image, beyond the clothing and the lighting. Our expressions perhaps? “I try really hard to capture that emotion in a photo, so the whole world can see the way I feel about an image.”
“What sort of emotions do photos of me give you?” he asked.
I felt my cheeks heat again. “Our kiss?”
He gave a little laugh. “And before that?”
“Just the way the camera likes you. I wanted to see if I can catch it myself, understand why warmth and life seem to come from somewhere inside you and shows up in photos. Your spirit maybe? Or soul? I don’t think I’m explaining this right.”
Lucas stared at me for a few long moments. I was being strange, wasn’t I? I looked down. “Sorry.” I reached for the check and pulled out cash to pay my share.
“I can pay,” he protested. “And you don’t have to go yet.” He reached across the table to touch my hand. His skin warm over mine, touch not demanding, but questioning. I let him squeeze my hand a moment, but worried that lingering before telling him everything would make him angrier in the end.
“It’s okay. I make good money working for my aunt, and my parents are going over a contract with your manager. Looks like I might be doing some modeling in the future?”
“Yeah? Did you like it?”
“It was different. I was pretty scared at first. Used to hiding behind the camera, but there’s something freeing about being noticed too. About becoming the pretty thing I always try to capture.”
He got out a couple twenties and shoved it in the folder with the bill. “You had a great presence in front of the camera. When you look at the pictures you had taken of you, do they make you feel something?” He got up and held out a hand for me. I took it hesitantly and stood with him. He hadn’t eaten much.
“Beautiful,” I said. “I felt beautiful. Seen. Real?” Even while being completely dressed up as something I was not.
“Yeah? You are beautiful,” he agreed. “Maybe we can walk the shops for a few minutes?”
