His dick had no qualms about admitting fascination.
Or defeat.
But he couldn’t quite forget the awful accusations they’d thrown at each other. Or how much she seemed to dislike him. Maybedoubtwas the better word. There was too much in her gaze for him to accept.
Since their encounter, he’d decided that when it finally happened, he wanted someone in his life who made himfeel—well,goodabout himself. Because he thought he might be okay at taking care of someone if given half a chance. He understood this meant treading into relationship territory, but fuck, he was exhausted and lonely and sick to death of playing games.
For a split second that night with Fontana, he’d imagined it could beher.
So, he was the one to duck his head, shy away, and focus on the kids who seemed sincerely interested in photography. They lit up when he told them they could take the cameras home—on one condition: they had to come to class each week prepared to discuss the lesson plan he’d thrown together. Next week, they would cover aperture settings and shoot on film.
He wasn’t sure why Fontana felt such a personal connection to this place, but after talking to Hannah, he was beginning to suspect her childhood had included something like this along the way. A refuge.
Protection, the way his camera had been for him.
If they quit dodging each other like one of them carried the plague, maybe he’d ask. In afriendly, non-sexual, absolutely-not-a-come-on way.
Campbell flipped a canister of film between his hands and pondered this proposal to himself as a breeze ripped through the open window, carrying the scent of burning leaves, paint, and glue past his nose.
A friend. Honestly, he needed one of those more than he needed a lover. And for some goddamn reason, Fontana made him want to spill his guts. And he liked her, he really did, even if she didn’t like him.
Smiling, he popped the cap off the canister with his thumb and jammed it back in place. Maybe this was his 2 a.m. solution. He and Fontana could befriends.
He shook his head at the internal argument. The masturbation issue would sort itself out.
The person you fantasized about wasn’t always appropriate. Lascivious thoughts about a friend? Old news for a guy. He’d seen what Fontana had to offer—and liked it way more than he should.
Hard to forget a mind-blowingnight like that.
Harder still to forget the laughter they’d shared. The way her body seemed made for his, combined with her—he didn’t know the exact word for it—sincerity?—in bed. Which made him want to be himself, too. Not the most normal of occurrences.
All combined, a rare experience that—hell, he’d admit it—had shaken him to the core.
Anyway, he could worry less about it now. He had a plan.
At the sound of his name, he shook himself from his thoughts.Luca, a boy in the class, stood fiddling with his camera, looking like he wanted to talk—but not in front of the entire group. He was tall for his age, which Campbell guessed was twelve or so, his energy sending his legs and arms into nervous tremors he seemed unable to control. His clothes were clean enough, though faded and a size too small.
“My dad’s Puerto Rican; my mom’s Black,” Luca said, tilting the camera in his hand and giving the dials a determined study. “But I’m in foster.”
Campbell did a one-handed push off the wall he’d been leaning against. “Okay…butwhat?”
“This,” Luca said, pointing to a button as if he hadn’t just dropped personal information on a virtual stranger without being asked. “What’s it do?”
“Lens release.” He tapped the boy’s wrist. “Don’t go there. Yet. We’ll change out lenses—maybe. More advanced topic than we’ll likely get to.” And he didn’t have spare lenses lying around like he did shitty old cameras he’d rebuilt for fun.
“Huh.” Luca ran his finger along the metal plateon top, glanced up in question. His eyes were dark orbs rimmed with pale blue. They’d be amazing in a photograph.
“Hot shoe.”
At the boy’s silent request for more information, Campbell laughed, walked across the room, dug through his bag, and came up with his trusty Nikon. When he got back to Luca, he handed him the camera and pointed to the attached flash unit. “A hot shoe is a mounting point for accessories. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Luca balanced both cameras, one in each hand, as if weighing them against each other. Tilting his head, he nodded, handed the Nikon back to Campbell, and smiled. Campbell smiled back. Helikedthis kid.
And he thought he’d found the one who would feel the spark.
Luca scratched his nose, then did the camera balance again—this time with just one—getting a feel for it in his hand, Campbell could tell. Much like you’d palm a basketball. “Aperture next week, right?”
Campbell nodded, then stared inside the lens of his Nikon. The boy did the same with his. “See those? Aperture blades. We’ll learn to stop down, or close, and open up, or widen. And why, depending upon the shot you want. How much light passes through the opening affects exposure.” He clicked the shutter and watched the blades snap shut like teeth. “Think of it like your pupil, expanding or contracting with the amount of light. It’s the best tool you’ll ever have to capture the image in the wayyouwant to.”
