“Okay. But don’t expect anything spectacular,” I warn him. I get up and head back to his bedroom, Milo following behind me, his tail wagging excitedly. “I’m sorry, Milo, just retrieving a camera, not taking you for a walk.”
He still follows behind me, and I stop and ruffle his head affectionately before I get my camera out of my bag. I bring it back to the living room, taking a seat next to Aiden on the sofa. I don’t know why I’m nervous about him seeing my hockey photography. He’s seen my pictures on the Real Miami social media pages.
But hockey is different. It’s my first love, and the game he loves. I don’t want him to look at the pictures and think I didn’t do the sport and the Manatees justice.
“Okay, remember, I was under duress during this session,” I warn him. “I had just been hit in the head with a frozen iguana.”
Aiden rolls his eyes. “Show me already.”
I go to my saved pictures and start at the beginning of practice. Aiden leans into me, his arm brushing against mine, his head bent forward so he can see.
I begin to go through the photos, and as I study them with Aiden, I really do think these are good. Every bit as good as the ones from the freelance photographer for the Manatees, and I’m definitely better than the people taking the pictures on the in-house social media team.
“Scarlett, you’re really good at this,” Aiden says, his voice filled with awe.
My face grows warm from his compliment. “Thank you.”
“No, you capture so much. Like on this one. Look at the way Becks is laughing. He was giving Wyatt a lot of crap during practice and having a good time. You nailed his mood in this one shot. Or this one, with the way ice sprayed up around my skates when I stopped on that sprint. I know there’s more to it than the emotion and action, like lighting and stuff I won’t even try to understand, but you’ve got agift. Have you ever thought about doing photography exclusively for a living?”
“Well, I’m able to do some of that with Real Miami,” I say.
Aiden shakes his head. “But you have to do a million other things for Real Miami—photography is a small part of it. I’m talking about where this is all you do, day in, day out.”
I hesitate for a moment. I’ve never spoken about this dream to anyone. But nobody has looked at me like Aiden has, seeing my talent for hockey photography and asking why.
With a jolt, I realize just how much Aiden sees me. He sees me in a way no previous boyfriend has, or even my friends and family have.
He sees through the layers and knows the heart of me.
I stare at him, his face so open, so trusting. He’s looking at me and seeing everything I’ve kept wrapped up and hidden, even from myself.
And I know Aiden has won another piece of my heart tonight.
“I can’t do anything with hockey,” I say slowly. “Everyone will think I got the job because my last name is Rivershon. It even pops up now and then with Real Miami. That I got the job because my dad is a sports celebrity in this city.”
Aiden’s gaze doesn’t waver from mine, as if he’s absorbing the truth from my words. “But if your last name weren’t Rivershon, would you pursue a position as a team photographer?”
“I’ve never even considered it because I never felt it was an option.”
Aiden is quiet for a moment. I can see in his eyes that he’s thinking it all over.
“I’m tired of rules that hurt good people,” he finally says. “You have a gift for photographing hockey. And if you want to do it, that’s what you should be doing. I know if you were to submit your photos to the Manatees blindly, they’d see they need to hire you.”
“Thank you for saying that.”
“Baby, I’m not just saying that. I mean it. You’re freaking talented, and if this is what you want to do, you should be doing it. My last team had a full-time staff photographer. Traveled with us and everything. You could easily do that and help the social media team with pictures, too.
“What I’m saying is,” Aiden continues, “I think you need to find a way to pursue this. Put up these pictures as examplesand offer your services. You could use some of your Real Miami pictures, too.”
“You mean as a professional sports photographer?”
“Why not? Or at least start showing them on social media to generate interest.”
I consider this.
“You’re not sure.”
“No, I’m not.”
