I thought about that for a minute. I didn’t have many people I considered friends. Jenny, mostly. Everyone else was sort of classmates. Not many I got close to, even if we talked during school.
“You only take pictures of friends, right?” he added. “I looked through your Instagram. It’s all things, or Jenny, or your brother.” He smiled faintly. “Everyone else kept at a distance by the lens of your camera.”
I shrugged. “People are complicated.”
“Pictures are easy?”
“Sometimes,” I agreed. “You have a lot of friends already.”
“Can a person have too many friends?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I told him honestly.
“What if I said I wanted to be more than a friend?”
I blinked, the words sinking in slowly. “What?”
He let out a long breath, glancing around, but his gaze falling back on me, intense and almost hot. “I’ve modeled with hundreds of girls—”
“I’m not a girl,” I reminded him.
“—and none of them interested me at all. Then there you are, wide, pretty aqua eyes, easy smile, infectious laugh, and I thought, okay, wow. I kissed you.” He flushed, and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I had a boyfriend once, for like a week. He was from another school, wanted everyone to know he was dating a model.” Lucas sighed. “They’re just pictures.”
“People are drawn to pretty things.”
His gaze met mine. “You think I’m a pretty thing?”
“Well yeah, who doesn’t. Have you looked at you recently?”
He snorted and shook his head. “Anyway, he and I didn’t last long. Then I saw you at the studio and thought, there’s that quiet guy who’s always staring at me from across the lunchroom or hiding behind his camera. What’s his story? Why doesn’t he take pictures of me like everyone else wants to?”
“Because it’s rude to take pictures without permission,” I said. Then his words began to sink in. “Wait, you knew I was a guy?”
“You don’t exactly have the sweet, delicate voice of the average girl. But yeah, I saw you at the studio before you changed. I’ve seen you a dozen times at her studio. Usually there are too many other models around for me to ever see you for more than a few seconds. But I was always curious. Who’s this quiet guy who respects my boundaries more than anyone else I’ve ever met?”
He saw me. Not just dressed as a girl, but before? Even prior to the Saturday photo shoot. “You saw me?”
He tilted his head. “Yeah. I see you. Saw you. Would like to see more of you. Do you remember the first week of the school year when you came into the science lab to take pictures for the school newspaper? I was there. I’m always in the science lab, like you are always here. And I thought, wow, who’s this? You laughed over something, and the sound just hit me. Like I wanted to find out what made you laugh, but you’re really good at keeping to yourself.” He sighed. “I asked Katie about your friend Jenny, thought maybe I could get more details about you, see if you were at all in my realm of existence, but you don’t let many people see you. They know of you, but not much about you.”
It was easier that way. People considered me strange. I kept to myself because it hurt less when they realized I wasn’t like them. “You could pick any girl you want, probably any boy too, you’re a good-looking guy. I’m sure there are plenty of real girls out there that would see beyond your modeling.”
“Yeah? Other than you, I’ve not met a single one. But that’s not why I kissed you anyway.”
I blinked at him. “Then why did you kiss me? You knew I was a guy.”
He seemed to bite his lip and think about that for a bit. I let my gaze flow over him, how tense his shoulders were and the careful distance he kept. I didn’t really know how to read him. But I straightened the blue tie that was part of our uniform and slipped off the jacket. “I make a pretty boy too.” I did a little turn for him like Patty had shown me how to master in the studio. “Just because I can dress up like a girl, doesn’t make me less a boy. I’m okay with both or either, or neither.”
He slid off the table, stepping close. “Thank God for that, I’m not really into girls. So being suddenly into you at the shoot dressed as a girl was a bit odd for me.” He reached out and hovered his hand over my hip, not touching, but close enough I could feel the warmth of his palm. “Your friend Jenny says you don’t like to be touched. But you let me touch you during the shoot.”
I looked up at him, finding his eyes close, and lips a breath away, my heart racing a little. “Your touch felt okay. Warm, not demanding.”
He carefully pushed a stray lock of hair out of my face. “You said you liked it when I kissed you. Is this something we can try? You and me?”
“I don’t think you know what you’re asking,” I whispered, my gaze locked on his.
“I don’t care if you’re dressed as a boy or a girl, Tory. I had fun in the studio with you, and yesterday when we were talking. I liked that you held my hand, and were worried about my feelings. I like that I don’t feel pressured to put on a show around you, and I want to learn everything there is to know about you. How you see the things you see, and why the camera sings for you. And how you can see me so clearly and yet be so blind.”
I gaped at him. “But you left yesterday, didn’t try to stop me or tell me you knew I was a guy.”
