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Ethan
Q: Lights, camera, action—or do you prefer your fun in the dark?
Mia stops, a shirt in one hand, a towel in the other, and locks eyes with me. The moment stretches out between us, as we both try to process the situation.
I’ve been wondering how she’d react when she came back.
My top theory was with humor, a laugh, a joke of some kind, but embarrassment wasn’t far behind.
The way she’s looking at me, though—eyes wide, pink lips relaxed into a pout—isn’t either. I’ve struck her speechless, which would be a massive turn-on if her mother wasn’t standing ten feet away from me.
Actually. It still is.
Pearl lowers her camera and smiles at Mia. “Ah, you’re back.”
“Um, Mom?” Mia squeaks. “What are you doing?”
“Taking advantage of an opportunity,” Pearl says. “I’d never have forgiven myself if he left this house and I didn’t get a shot of that chin. Come look.”
She messes with the back of the camera, and Mia moves to her, peering at the digital display that lights up.
Standing at the edge of the pool of yellow thrown by the spotlights, they’re mostly in darkness, but I can see Mia’s mouth curve into a smile as Pearl scrolls through pictures.
In the seconds of silence that follow, I give myself a little pep talk. I’m secure in my own skin. Never worried about what a girl thought of me shirtless before because I know I have a decent build. Better than decent, actually, thanks to soccer. So why am I sitting here right now wondering what Mia’s thinking?
“That one,” Mia says, her hand stopping Pearl’s. “That’s the shot.”
Pearl glances at me, then at Mia. “It’s a different side of him. Darker.”
And that clues me as to what they’re seeing.
When Mia left, Pearl asked if she could take my picture.
I said, “No thanks.”
She said, “Surely I can convince you.”
What followed was some hardcore bartering wherein I agreed to sit for a few pictures in exchange for Pearl answering my questions about Mia.
I had a goal in mind like always, so I worked my angle of questioning to Mia’s friends, waiting for the perfect moment to bring up her ex. I didn’t want to know about him as much as what he did to screw up being with Mia. That was when Pearl told me what a fuckwad the guy was, how he treated Mia, taking her for granted.
“Did he two-time her?” I’d asked.
“No,” Pearl said, between snaps. “It was worse than that.” Snap, snap. “He toyed with her.” Snap, snap. “He’d just disappear or lose interest sometimes, claiming some nonsense about needing to find himself.” Snap, snap. “Then he’d come back and get her hopes up again. That happened ’til he drained the hope right out of her, the little prick.”
I felt like tracking Kyle down and beating the shit out of him, and I’m guessing that translated as “Darker Ethan” in the photos.
“You should make some prints, Mom,” Mia says now.
“Do you have a girlfriend, Ethan?” Pearl asks, and I catch a hint of wryness in her voice.
“Not anymore. Are we done here?”
“Dinner!” Mia’s father’s voice carries down the hall.
“My dinner!” Pearl pushes her camera at Mia. “Put that away for me, will you?” Her flowy pants flap as she breezes from the studio.
When she’s gone, Mia sets the camera down on a table. “I feel like saying sorry won’t quite cut it.”
I shrug. “It’s no big deal. I had to draw the line at full frontal, but otherwise it was fun.”
“Prude.”
“Hey, who’s half naked here?”
“Sure, but have you looked around?”
“Actually, I can’t stop.” Pearl’s images were already hard to look away from, but now that I know it’s Mia in them, I can’t stop staring. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize her right away, because the shape of her seems so familiar now.
We fall quiet for a moment, the spotlights buzzing loudly in the silence. They put off major heat, and I feel like I’m getting a sunburn. Thankfully the patio doors are open and it’s a cool night.
Mia stands beyond the reach of the lights, but I can feel her looking at me.
“Mia?”
“Yes?”
“Shirt?”
“Oh, right,” she says, looking down at her hand. She tosses the towel onto the table and comes over with the shirt.
“Here you go.” Finally, she looks up at me. “I’ll try to clean yours. Or replace it. With the other one I stole.”
Standing, I take her father’s shirt. “Thanks.” I can tell just by looking that it’s going to be too small. Not a surprise since I’m six-two, and Mr. Galliano is maybe five-nine. But what makes me hesitate isn’t the fit.
I don’t want clothes to be added to this scenario, I want them subtracted. I flash on an image of Mia’s peach dress puddled at her feet, and the way she’d look under these lights. Under me under these lights, and I wonder . . .
I stare into her eyes, searching for the vibe I felt from her during our text chat earlier, or when she walked into the studio, but it’s not there. There’s no invitation from her, and I don’t know if it’s because of me, or the job, or her fuckwad ex, and right now, it really doesn’t matter.
I need a solid green light, and I’m not getting it.
Adam’s laugh echoes from the kitchen, like the call to retreat.
Mia says, “I guess we should go.”
“Right.”
I yank on the shirt. Just as I suspected, the thing is like donning a second skin. That’s four sizes too small. Mia’s laughing before I start buttoning it.
“Can you even breathe?” she asks.
“Barely, but I don’t think I’ll be able to eat anything.”
“You’re just trying to avoid my mother’s cooking.”
“No way. Sulfuric acid is my favorite.” The higher buttons won’t even stay closed, so I give up and look at Mia. “I wish I had some chest hair to complete the look. Got any gold chains I could borrow?”
She shakes her head, smiling. “You can’t go to dinner flashing all that cleavage. Come here, I’ll button it.”
As soon as she touches my shirt, my hands frame her face, and I bend close, only inches separating us.
Mia doesn’t tense or flinch in surprise, and I have this feeling she knew what I’d do when even I didn’t.
We stay there, just breathing the same air for a few seconds, making a little pocket of shadow in the brightness that surrounds us.
This has to be our secret, or we could lose everything.
No one can know.
Neither of us says a word but the pact is right there, between us.
Then Mia’s fingers close around my collar, tugging me closer, and I can’t wait anymore.
I brush her lips with mine. This isn’t our first kiss, but it sure as hell feels that way, and it seems important, somehow, to be tender with her.
That doesn’t last long. I want more of her right away, and my tongue slides into her mouth. She tastes cool and sweet, like chilled grapes. When I feel her respond, kissing me back like she wants more, I wrap my arms around her, fitting her against me, and give it to her.
Mia draws back slightly after a moment, dashing kisses along the corner of my mouth. I take the opportunity to steal a glance at her from this close—she has the hottest body I’ve ever seen. I smooth my hand along her ribs, finding the curve of her breast. She sighs and presses closer, and the sound almost makes me lose my mind.
I need more. I hoist her up and turn, settling her on the barstool as I kiss her. Her knees are in my way, so I nudge her legs apart, pushing her dress up her thighs. Then I settle between her hips.
“You feel incredible, Mia,” I say.
But the truth is she feels fucking perfect.