Page 36 of Definitely (Maybe) Dating
She looked back at POSH, her reliably unreliable speedy escape, then blew out a breath. “I thought I was running away, but I must have gotten turned around.”
“Lucky me.” He moved closer.
“Lucky you.” She didn’t move back.
He looked down and gently nudged her boot with his toe. “Nice boots.”
“Nice loafers.” He went to argue, and she held up a hand. “I will downgrade their offensiveness to somewhere between dress shoes and deck shoes.” She was working hard not to grin. “Have you ever heard of Nike or Vans?”
“Your ladybugs are fitting in the drizzle. My Nikes are blue and clash with my slacks.”
“I’d ditch the slacks then.”
“Maybe that’s an indoor request,” he said, and this time his smile packed some serious punch.
“That would be the way you’re looking at me,” she said quietly, glancing down at her scuffed boots, stained jeans and oversized sweater. “I thought you wanted the whole dinner, dance, dress trifecta?”
“I guess I just want you. The rest is negotiable” he said, and Piper decided this was the best conversation she’d had in years.
Her brain checked out. Just like that. One sweet comment, and she was a goner.
“Why did you come here tonight?”
“To ask about the permit.” Last time she’d checked, the permit wasn’t stuck to his lips, but she was powerless to look away.
“It’s moving through the system, and I should know more next week.” He reached out to fix her strap, only to cup her hips instead. She didn’t shift away. She might have even swayed like they were in high school and she was waiting for him to ask her to prom. “But you could have called me about that. Instead, you came and found me.”
“I’m good at finding people.” She picked up her camera and pointed it at his face.
He palmed the lens and lowered it. “Don’t hide.”
“That’s another thing I’m good at.”
Some people stayed in the shadows because they didn’t want to be seen. Others hid because they wanted someone to care enough to look for them. Adult Piper knew that waiting to be found was like playing hide and seek in the Grand Canyon, but a small part of her, the scared and lost teenager, still held out hope someone would venture into the shadows for her.
There weren’t many shadows tonight, not with Josh’s light radiating around her.
“I know,” he said, and he sounded sad, which was fitting because it was hard to remain happy when being alone was her modus operandi.
Instead of handing her camera back, he flipped on the screen and scrolled through the most recent images. Her first instinct was to grab the camera back, and he knew it. She reached for the strap and held tight. The look he gave her was one of gentle challenge. She was cryptic and closed off, this she knew. But her photos were beyond personal. They were a glance into all the things she hid behind her iron clad walls.
“You’ve seen my stuff,” she said.
“Correction. I’ve seen the stuff you take because someone pays you. These are the ones you take because they spoke to you. I want to know what speaks to you, Boots.”
“Boots?”
He looked down and grinned. “It seemed fitting. May I?” He tapped her camera.
That he was willing to ask, to take the time to get to know her through the lens she viewed the world, made a complicated knot of desire and vulnerability twist deep inside.
In the end, she let go of the strap.
He winked at her, then flipped through the images on the screen. She watched him watching her world unfold, and never in her life had she been so nervous about someone’s opinion. She took photos for herself, captured the things that resonated with her, told the kind of stories she related to. Her photos weren’t necessarily pretty; they were real and raw and complex, showing the complicated side of humanity most people try to ignore.
It was in the flaws that she found life’s beauty, but she knew what he saw: a homeless man in the sea of suits, surrounded by dozens of concrete park tables and graffitied benches. The men were gathered around a table, watching a game of speed chess unfold.
“This is Pioneer Square,” he said with a grin. “My dad and I used to have lunch there every Sunday. After going to the zoo or a long hike, we’d grab something from one of the food trucks on Fifth, then come sit in the plaza and people watch.”
