Page 41 of Tempting the Teammate
I had a conference, but the attendance wasn’t mandatory, so I went to the gym instead. I told myself I wanted to burn some of this hate out of my mind, but the truth was simpler than that. I wanted to look good when I undressed tonight. I wanted the post-workout glow, the tightness in the muscles, and the swelling in all the right places, even if I just undressed for bed and killed the light. Because he would watch me. He was allowed to watch me.
After, I ran errands to keep myself busy. I didn’t think about much other than Andrei and the way the whole world had flipped itself on its head last night. I’d walked into that room fearing and knowing I would never have the safety and comfort of his friendship, yet I had walked out of it with more than my best friend. More, though I didn’t know how much more. I didn’t know what this made us. I didn’t know if dating was on the table. I didn’t know if there was a future here or if there was only the present. And if it was the latter, then I wanted every delicious moment now because I couldn’t bank them for later.
It was evening by the time I returned to campus and grabbed burritos from a food truck parked in the circle of the student center. Light came from under the door of our room whenI climbed the stairs, and I entered the room to the scent of bodywash and shampoo, the air a little humid, and Andrei’s wavy hair damp. “Thought you ran away,” he said.
I lifted the bag with our dinner. “Better. Got us food.”
He walked over to me, putting his hands on my chest and rising to kiss me on the lips. I could get used to this. I could very much have him kiss me hello every day.
“Is that our date dinner?” he asked.
I laughed. “We can’t show up in public, can we?” Then I took off my backpack and handed it to him. “But no. Dinner’s just there if you’re hungry. This is the date.”
He unzipped my bag carefully, like he expected a prank inside, and his face lit up when he recognized the liquids and chemical solutions he needed to develop the photos.
“I figured we could do it together. Walk me through it. Tonight.” I put the food on the table, forgetting all about it when Andrei whirled around and produced the trays he needed.
“That’s a great idea,” he said. “I’m dying to see them.”
The next ten minutes were a chaos of light-proofing the place. We lowered the blinds, put a sign on the door that warned everyone that development was in process, and tucked a towel under the door so that the light from the hallway wouldn’t overexpose the images.
Watching Andrei work was a pleasure like no other. He was absorbed in it, yet I could feel his awareness of me. I could feel it in the way he would pause, his gaze focused on the task at hand but still watching me in his peripheral vision. I could feel it in the way the corners of his lips lifted gently before he turned off the lights. I could feel it in the silence and the pause between us when I stepped a little closer to him to watch him fiddle with the film. We stood there in total darkness, only our quiet breaths disrupting the silence, and only our warmth serving as evidence of each other’s presence.
I felt it radiate off his skin, together with the delicious lavender scent of the softener that enriched his clothes. My beautiful Andrei, so careful and delicate.
The red safelight bathed the room in a dull, blood-warm glow. It buzzed faintly overhead, barely enough to register over the soft slosh of liquid in trays. I stood by his, arms crossed, careful not to bump anything. Andrei worked in silence, sleeves rolled and fingers gloved.
He moved like he’d done this a hundred times. Because he had. The trays were arranged in order on the desks: developer, stop bath, fixer, rinse. A timer ticked down on the windowsill, counting seconds with ruthless precision.
The first print went into the developer. Andrei used tongs to push it under, agitating the tray gently. Swirls of diluted chemical lapped against the paper like waves. Slowly, the image began to surface, shadows first, then contrast. I leaned in slightly. The grain was tight. Focus was good. I liked what I saw. I liked the subject more than anything. Leg hanging off the edge of the bed, underwear bright white, sun kissing his bare back.
He timed the development precisely, then transferred the print to the stop bath, telling me quietly what that meant. Vinegar sharpness cut the air as the chemicals hissed around the photo. Thirty seconds. Then into the fixer. The room smelled of sulfur and old water, but it didn’t bother me. I had a keepsake, a photo I’d taken of Andrei.
While that one soaked, he pulled the second sheet from its sleeve and laid it flat in the developer. This time, the tones came in faster. The exposure was more controlled, and the image was sharper. It was the shot he’d taken of me, framed better and shot from lower. Details stood out: the edge of the sheet, the rumpled texture of my hair, the lines of my shoulders against the light, and my wandering, downcast gaze.
“You’re cute,” he said.
A laugh bubbled to the surface. “I was looking at your balls.”
He laughed with me while tinkering with the photo.
Then both prints went into the rinse tray together, water running over them in a slow, steady stream. The surface tension pulled droplets across the images like they were sweating.
I didn’t ask to touch them. I just watched as he adjusted the flow and made sure there were no air bubbles. No dust had slipped in. No streaks. He checked both prints under the safelight again before pinning them up to dry on a line stretched above the desks..
The paper curled slightly at the edges as they dripped, and the timer beeped softly, waiting to be reset.
SIXTEEN
Griffin
Andrei’s handcovered mine there between the liquids and trays. The tingles rose up my arm, and I turned to him. In the faint red light that cast its soft glow over the black-and-white images drying on the line, half of Andrei’s face was lit, and half was in the shadows.
He threaded his fingers through mine and looked into my eyes. “First photo I let you take,” he said.
“You didn’t have a choice,” I reminded him.
His lips curled into a playful smile. “That sounds fun.”
