This is real, complicated, and reckless.
I’m aching with desire as he continues to tease me. Tempt me.
“Tell me to stop, Kate,” he whispers. “Tell me not to kiss you.”
“I…I can’t,” I admit as the red haze in the room begins to spin.
His lips crackle the air at the corner of my mouth, still not quite touching.
I sense the need to take a deep breath before we plunge into this forbidden sea, the depths of which I don’t think either of us are aware of. I heave a breath into my aching lungs as Brandon’s lips approach mine.
The timer beeps, and we freeze.
I’m forced to withdraw the print or risk it overdeveloping. I unpin myself from the counter to transfer the print, submerging it into the stop solution without allowing the tongs to contaminate the new chemical. It only needs ten seconds to halt the development process, so I count my ragged breaths instead of a timer.
Brandon stays silent as I move the print from the stop bath to the fix bath.
I silently count thirty more seconds, still frozen with my back to him. I fear if I take one look at the hunger in his eyes, I’ll crack.
But I can’t let myself go there. Cannot give in. Because I refuse to break his heart again. He promised we could stay friends after all of this. And that’s what I need. What we only ever can be.
I move the developed print from the fix bath to the sink in the corner, running water over it until it’s clean enough to be submerged in the siphoned water tank for the next few minutes.
I grip the counter, still facing it.
“Kate.” Brandon’s tone is heavy but no longer heady. “I’m sorry. I?—”
“It’s okay.” My voice sounds far steadier than I feel, and I turn to face him. “It was bound to happen at some point, given our history.”
He quirks a tiny smile. “True.”
He opens his mouth to speak but is cut off by a loud ringtone in his pocket. His eyes seek permission, and I gesture for him to answer. He makes a quarter turn away and accepts the call.
“Hey, Mom, what’s up? No, sorry, I’m still in Marisol Bay. Why isn’t Chaz picking you up?” Something like anger flashes in his green eyes before he stabs the call on speaker with a mouthed apology to me. His fingers fly across his screen. “I can have Tuck or Julia come get you and take you back to work. What mechanic are you at?”
“Ted’s Auto Body. Thanks, hon. They’re taking forever on this oil change, and if I miss this showing, I could lose my client.”
I’ve never met his mom, but she has a naturally buoyant tone.
After a minute, Brandon responds. “Jules just texted that she’s on her way.”
“Oh, what a relief. K, now let’s talk vacay. How’s Kate?—”
Brandon flicks off the speaker phone, his cheeks flushing even redder in the crimson light. “Let’s talk later, Mom.”
I hear her muffled protest even as he tells her he loves her and clicks off the call.
We both give a wary chuckle, but he continues to tighten his jaw. But I get the sense that the newfound tension is not about me.
Casually, I begin to set up the enlarging machine with the next negative of Brandon and me. “Everything okay?”
“It’s fine.”
“Brandon,” I chide softly, watching his walls raise like a barricade. I nudge my shoulder against his. “Talk to me.”
“It’s…” He tilts his head. “Complicated.”
“What’s new?” I chuff a laugh, one he returns.
