An hour later,we head down to the beach.
It’s still early, and we’ve seen only a couple of people out walking their dogs. Ivy’s hands bunch together in front of her, tugging at her fingers. She’s wearing a lilac sundress with white flowers that makes me feel out of control. Her blonde hair is resting on the tips of her shoulders, and a splash of make-up—although her freckles are still on full display.
“You’re going to have to tell me what to do,” she says as she paces the beach barefoot.
I grip my camera in my hand and smile. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
When I click record, I already have her perfectly in the frame. The lighting of the sun rising behind her is spot on—an equal mixture of the blue and yellow skies from the beautiful sunrise, down to the clear water and golden sand—and then there’s Ivy.
In that purple dress that makes my brain short-circuit.
It’s a stunning shot, and all she has to do is stand there.
Everything else seems to fade away.
She is the vision.
“Walk towards me,” I direct, and she does. Very,veryslowly.
“Like this?”
“Exactly like that,” I rasp.
The wind makes an appearance every few moments, allowing strands of her gorgeous hair to flap around her face. I move closer until Ivy places her hand over the camera. “That is too close.”
I keep filming her and smile. “Trust me, it looks good.”
She huffs out a breath and drops her hand. Her eyes look anywhere but at the camera.
“Look at me,” I demand softly, and she does reluctantly.
I bring the camera in closer, getting a flawless shot of her bottle-green eyes. Her lashes brush her cheekbone with a caress, and when those eyes open once more and she stares directly at the camera, I know nothing will ever look as sensational as her.
The wind whips her hair again, and she tucks a piece behind her ear that becomes stuck against her eyelashes. Her movements are delicate, which looks so smooth and fluid on film. There is no possible way I can take my eyes off her.
“You’re so beautiful, Ivy,” I comment, not being able to keep it to myself.
Her cheeks flush, and she laughs. “Stop.”
The way her eyes light up, even though she’s embarrassed. And her laughter. Oh, that pretty laugh. She is a movie in herself. To be studied every minute of every day, without fail. A case study, because how can someone be this breathtaking?
“Complimenting you? Never.”
Ivy follows my lead after I ask for shots against the sand, dipping her toes into the sea. She might not think she belongs on camera, but she does. I can’t wait to edit together what I shot today because I want her to see how I see her, how breathtaking she is. This will be in my heart and memory forever.
“Are we done now?” she asks. “It’s been longer than thirty minutes.”
It has. A lot longer.
Instead, I place the camera onto the ground, still recording. I walk over to her, and she stares at me with confusion in her eyes. But I reach down and hoist her up around my waist, clutching onto her soft thighs. Her arms automatically latch onto my neck as I tug her towards me.
I waste no time in pressing my lips to hers, spinning us around as she squeals against my mouth and laughs. The feeling is euphoric. She clasps a hand on the back of my neck and deepens the kiss, our tongues brushing together.
Our hearts flush against one another, beating in sync as I clutch her tighter, enjoying every second with her. I place her down and hold her waist in my hands before picking her up, and she screams. “No,” she heaves. “Don’t throw me into the water.”
“I wasn’t going to,” I chuckle.
“I don’t believe you for a second.”
