Finally, he looked down at me, his black shades lifted to the top of his head. “For the exact reason why I’m here.”
Sometimes I forgot how much was at stake with his life. It was easier to roll my eyes and write him off as a moody control freak, but standing this close, seeing the shadows carved into his face… I got it. The shades weren’t there because he wanted them there. They were his armor, the only way to keep the world from clocking the storm behind his eyes. Everything that was on the line without them.
I shrugged, looking up at him. “It’s a shame.” He looked at me, questions knitting in his brows. “I think you’d photograph really well.”
Correction: he’d paint well.
He was all the sharp angles and chiseled jawlines a painter could dream of. A stone statue in human form. A muse an artist would kill to find.
He smiled a little, just enough to show the shadows of his dimples. “That’s quite the compliment from someone who called me… what was it? An overbearing lamp post?”
My head hung in shame before lifting to find him and smiling on instinct. “That was one time. And also before I really saw you.”
Our eyes held long enough for me to think back to the only thing I thought about when I looked at him recently. I wondered if it was replaying in his mind too.
Before I slipped and let my eyes drift down to those lips, I remembered the camera in my hand. “Just one.”
I shook the thing in his face as he groaned. “No way.”
“Oh, come on! I’m the only person who’ll see this. It won’t kill you.” Before he could protest, I lifted the camera in front of us, hoping it caught the beauty that was Big Ben just in the background. “Smile!” I beamed, looking into the camera and stretching my arms out to capture as much as possible. I couldn’t tell whether he was smiling or not—for all I knew, he was probably flipping me off or scowling just to get back at me when I had these developed.
The shutter went off and the flash lit up. I lowered the camera and spun around to face him. “Did you smile?”
His grin was filled with sarcasm. “Nope.”
I rolled my eyes and nudged him, earning me a laugh that made me shiver.
“Would you like me to take one of you two?” An older woman’s voice, posh and cheerful, stopped before us. Her hair was like spun silver, and her dress dotted with little daisies that matched her crossbody bag.
I turned to Marcus, eyes wide, then shifted to face the lady, my smile all kinds of giddy. “Actually, that would be lovely. Thank you!”
Marcus turned to me, face screwed up with annoyance. “Some days I think you actually might want to see me dead.”
“Always with the dramatics,” I whispered in his ear before handing off my phone to the lady and nestling myself next to Marcus.
I slipped my hand around his back, and I don’t know what gave me the confidence, but I held onto his side, my fingers feeling each and every one of the muscles beneath his white tee. He was refusing to lift his arms around me, and I felt it—that hesitation. Unlike when he’d cradled me into the car last week, this was casual. This was just us.
“Closer,” she called. “Act like you like each other!”
I let out a soft laugh and held my arm tighter around Marcus’ waist, saying ‘fuck it’ in my head and leaning my head against his arm. I felt him pause—just for a second—then slowly, I felt him release a breath as his arm settled around my back. Solid. Warm.
He leaned in a fraction, barely an inch, like standing next to me would kill him.
I couldn't help my eye roll. “Just act like you like me,” I murmured, re-hiking my smile for the camera.
Marcus' voice was low, close to my ear, as though he didn't want anyone else to hear. “Ask me to do anything but that.”
I looked up at him. “Why?”
His eyes sank down to me, every shade of brown swirling, deepening, holding me frozen as he whispered, “Because it's killing me pretending that I don't.”
Before I could check to see if my heart was still beating, a voice cut me off.
“There! Just adorable!" I blinked before turning to face her, taking my phone from her hands. "Have a great day, sweethearts.”
My smile twitched in her direction, and I tried my hardest to not make it obvious that what he'd just said hadn't affected me. And so, without thinking, I glanced down at the screen.
The image stared back at me.
