Page 75 of No Place Like You

“So what are your plans after this? Is anyone staying in New York City?” Ivy asks.

“I’m heading back to San Diego in a few days,” Elaine answers. “I’ve been looking into some work in my area but if something opens up elsewhere, I might look into it. I’m not really tied down to anything right now.”

“You should look into our LA offices. Elevate’s headquarters is there, and they’re expanding soon. More positions are going to open, and they might even expand to different cities.”

“Yeah, Ryan mentioned that,” Elaine answers. “It’s on the top of my job hunt list. It would be nice to stay near home instead of relocating.”

Ivy turns to me. “What about you, Lucy?”

My lips twist to one side. “I haven’t really decided. I’ll probably start looking into some entry-level work in Seattle. I’ve also been considering freelance until I get something more stable.”

“If you guys ever need a reference or anything, let me know. I might even know some agencies in Seattle that have some entry-level positions open.”

I perk up. “Really?”

“Of course,” she answers. “I know you want to go toward the more commercial part of photography, and I have a lot of connections all over. I’ve been doing this a long time, over twenty years, and I’ve met a lot of people along the way.”

“That would be amazing. Thank you.”

Ivy smiles at me and winks, clinking her glass to mine.

Hours later, after the drinks have dwindled down to the occasional slowly sipped cocktails and the shot glasses stopped coming in round after round, Dexter and I are heading home.

“Did you have fun?”

Dexter drapes his arm over my shoulders. “I did.”

I laugh, remembering how Min Jun challenged Dexter to a round of Quarters and he wiped the floor with the boys, leaving Min Jun and Ajay equally dumbfounded and impressed.

“You?”

I nod. “I’m going to miss them. Especially Elaine.” I pause to tuck my hand into Dexter’s back pocket. “You know, Ivy was telling me she might have some connections to other agencies in Seattle if I ever want to look into entry-level work somewhere.”

“Really?” He squeezes me a little harder.

“Yeah,” I say softly. “Actually, on one of the shoots last week, she had me take over, and I did the majority of the shoot. And it went really well. She liked my work.”

“Of course she did,” he answers, his smile brightening and his brows shooting up with excitement. “I’m not surprised one bit.”

“I know I walked into this with a lot of doubt, but I really think I did some pretty good work.” I pause, shrugging as Dexter’s thumb runs over the curve of my shoulder. “And I’ve been thinking. I want to look into freelance work in Seattle. I’ll reach out to Ivy too, and maybe I can finally find something stable.”

His prideful smile doesn’t waver while he looks at me with fondness. Our steps slow and become leisurely as we approach his building, and I become even more aware of his gaze.

“What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing.” I laugh a little awkwardly, and he plants a small kiss at the corner of my mouth. “You just amaze me.”

I roll my eyes and shove a hand into his stomach.

“Lucy, I mean it.” His arm pulls away from my shoulders, and he gently grips my nape, grabbing my attention to him. “You did all of this. You made things happen, and you need to give yourself some credit.”

I stay quiet, and a ball starts to form in my throat. He’s right. Ididdo this. I made things happen forme. I start to grin, turning the bashful smile into something much more assured and gratified. “You should start giving motivational speeches.”

He chuckles and kisses me, his hands cupping my cheeks. I lean into him, my own hands gripping his waist, and we fall into the kiss. We let it linger and deepen and turn into a passionate type of kiss full of heat and fire. The kind that only has one end.

Dexter starts to stumble up the steps of his apartment, and I follow. He fumbles with his keys, not breaking our kiss once, and we ascend up the elevator, where I push him against the closed doors while thanking the elevator gods for giving us an empty elevator car. When we reach his floor, we’re still a tangled mess of hands in hair and backs and necks. We burst through the door and finally stop when we reach the nearest wall. Dexter lifts me, pressing me against the cold surface, and takes possession of my lips. That’s exactly what it feels like. Like he’s claiming what’s his. Almost like if he didn’t and someone else did, he wouldn’t be able to stand the thought of it.

“You’re killing me with this thing you’re wearing,” he rasps into my skin.

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