The emptiness I feel. And I know I am not yet fully grieving.
“No,” I whisper.
“Tell me about your photography instead, then,” he says as we drive.
Before I reply, my phone buzzes. A text from Kate.
Hey,I’m staying at Ryan’s tonight. I think there are some leftovers in the fridge if you want them.
I quickly putmy phone down. Swallow a ball of nerves.
And try hard to swallow some other feelings; a mix of nerves and tingly, but guilt-ridden, excitement. I’ve got the apartment to myself. It’s like fate is messing with me. Big time!
“Mara?” Radomir growls.
“Why do you want to know?” I counter.
“I’m interested in you. Not just your body. Or those lips of yours. All of you.”
I look out the window. My body. My lips. What he doesn’t know is that his words make my other lips tingle almost unbearably. I squeeze my legs together, trying to release some of the tension.
Should I tell him I’m a virgin? Whatever else is happening in this insane situation, there’s sexual tension, right? Or maybe I’m imagining that. It’s not like I’ve got enough experience.
Maybe I’m just cray-cray.
“I just … love it,” I murmur.
“Sure. But why? When did you start?”
“I started a few months after my mom died,” I tell him. “I was ten. She’d died in a car accident. The grief counsellor suggested I use the gift she got me before she died. A camera. I wasn’t really into it … but then, with Mom as fuel, I fell in love… with photography”, I clarify, a little too quickly. “I started taking photos everywhere I went. It became a part of my identity. Something I can’t shake.”
“Something you don’t want to shake,” he says knowingly, his eyes fixed on me.
“Hmm, exactly.”
“I can feel your passion,” he says, then adds, “beautiful.”
I shiver slightly, daring a sideways look at him. “Beautiful?” I repeat. “My passion for photography, or…?
“You.”
Are you kidding?”
His grip tightens on the wheel, his knuckles turn whiter. “Why does that seem like a, umm, “ He searches for the apt word, “joke, to you?”
“Nobody calls me ‘beautiful’.”
“Then I just learned the whole damn world is blind,” he snaps.
I laugh, rolling my eyes.
“I mean it,” he snarls. “You’re beautiful, Mara. Your wavy, dark hair. Those big naïve eyes. Those pouting, sassy lips. And your body … fuck, girl, don’t even get me started on your body.”
My virgin body. But I can’t bring myself to say it.
My heart has never beat like this before.
I try not to shake all over, but it’s difficult. Luckily, the car ride is short. Soon, we’re parked up opposite the apartment building.
