Through The Lens (2 page)

“Hey, we can even get
the film developed tonight when you get home,” he added, sweetening the deal of
having to getting out and doing something outside of the house.  Dad was trying
really hard for me to have a social life.  He knew about my  two friends who’d
ditched me for each other.  Knew I had virtually no one else. But I was
honestly happy for them. And I wanted to go, experiment with this camera, but
there was one problem.

“Jenna has the car,” I
said. I let out a deep breath. I mean she and I got along just fine.  We even
got along really well when her friends weren't around. So it wasn't like I was
somehow irritated at her.  It was just because she was in all the school
activities, so I let her have the car. And now it gotten to the point that she
never even told me she was taking it, or for how long, it become more or less
hers. Even that was supposed to be ours ... but I never complain.

Dad just nodded, “I’ll
drop you off at the metro then.”

Almost giddy with
excitement over having a camera, I didn't think of Jenna, I just nodded in
agreement and jetted downstairs to change into my running gear.  And with a
little over an hour later, I stepped out on the National Mall.

After walking a bit, I
took in the sights, not sure what to take pictures of.  The great weather
brought out people of all shapes, colors, and sizes.  It was a mixing bowl of
cultures that I just couldn't get enough of. 

I quickly take the
camera out of its molded case and I pulled the strap over my head.   With the
lens cap off and  back in the case, I pushed  all of the excess camera
equipment back into my lightweight backpack and shrugged into it. So it was
just me, the camera in my hands and the world around me.

Pointing my camera to
the east, I lined up my site with the U.S. Capitol.  Click. It was amazing
history that stood before me.  The building had been built years ago, yet there
it stood in all its majesty. Click. Click. Click. After several shots, I tilted
my camera down and found an impromptu football game with guys that looked like
they might be interns or college students.  Click. Click. The intensity of the
game was intriguing.  They grappled and fought for the ball, yet after every
play, they smiled and traded friendly jibes.  Click. Click. Click. I continued
to snap a few pictures as they played the game.

Moving away, I found a
mother who was kneeling down next to her son.  The cutie’s lower lips quivered
as she wiped at his mouth and hands.  Click.  It was too precious not to miss. 
Then I noticed the upside-down ice cream cone and widened the lens to snap a
few profile pictures of the two before the little guy let out a gut-wrenching
wail.

Laughing a little
because the boy was so adorable, I shifted my camera and twisted the lens to
change the distance of my scope, just the way dad had shown me earlier.  And
there he was, sitting on the backside of a bench with his feet planted where
his bottom should have rested.

I took in the black boots, black jeans,
and then a black tee strained from his defined muscles. Add to those visuals,
his movie star face framed by a full head of dark hair that caught the wind
just right. My finger was trigger happy (click), and I couldn't help but snap a
few shots of him (click. click. click). And although he was facing me, he
hadn’t been looking at me. His gaze was directed out into the masses, people
watching I imagined. My hand nervously moved to the lens to tighten the shot on
his face.

And that’s when I saw
the color of his eyes. They were the bluest of blue that would make the sky
want to cry from jealously. He was hot, a ten on the Richter scale.  We’re
talking casotrophic heartbreak.  But the way his eyes bore into my lens-. Crap,
he looked at directly me.
Saw me.
My nervous finger clicked off the shot
before I shifted away in embarrassment. I did a 180 towards good old Abe and
walked a couple steps, feigning more interest as I started to line up an
extreme long shot of that memorial. I needed to get out of there. Had he known
I was taking pictures of him? I was poised to walk away in the direction of the
memorial and make my escape when I heard a voice behind me. He was too close and
I knew because I felt his breath on the back of my exposed neck. And I knew who
it might be by the sheer amount of baritone in the voice. Slowly, I turned
around, heart knocking against my chest.

It was him. And he was like
really tall. I'd already been tall but he had a good head over me, making me
look up at him, guiltily while he  looked down at me with no hint of shame. In
fact his face was surprisingly empty, devoid of anything I could read. With his
head at an angle, he  spoke again, “So, do I get to see?”  

With no experience at
all with guys other than Bradley—I mean who dates the fat girl— I was struck by
his proximity, the fact that he, looking like that, was talking to me.  And I
am barely able to stutter out, “See what?”

Chuckling, he exposed impossibly
white teeth, he said, “My picture.”

The duh, must have
crossed my face and I tilted the camera, which had been cradled in my palm, to
reveal the ancient camera I was using. “This isn’t digital.”

“That’s a problem
then,” he said,  his face expressionless again. No, there was expression, I
thought looking up at that face, hands shaking.  And the look I saw there made
me swallow hard.

“Why?” I asked, feeling
like cotton had filled my throat.

 “I think there must be
laws about that or something.”

“Laws,” I repeated,
perplexed.

“Yeah, laws. I don’t
think I gave you permission to take my picture.”  His posture said he was dead
serious.  Were there laws? I had no idea. And would he try to call the police
or something. I didn't mean to do anything. I had been caught up in the feeling
of the new camera, caught up in the sheer amount of attractiveness one person
could have.

Taking my camera in his
hand, the strap around my neck pulled me closer to him.  He didn’t seem to
notice that we were basically sharing too much personal space.  He studied my
camera like he knew a thing or two about them turning it over this way and that.

“You’re not going to
open it, are you?” I asked meekly, scared he would press charges. And that if
he'd open it carelessly, try to force it open, the vintage camera might break
let alone ruin the film inside.

With a sardonic arch of
his brow, he said, “I should.  Do you have a release form?  I mean, you can’t
go posting these pictures without permission.”

“I, I never,” I
stammered.  I had no idea how many laws I might be breaking.  “I promise I
won’t post any of your pictures.”

Not looking at all
convinced, he said, “How do I know that? Do you know how much my face is
worth?”

Priceless, I wanted to
say but kept that little comment to myself. I didn't want to seem creepier than
he probably already thought me to be. I found myself licking my suddenly dry
lips.  Was he a model?  There was no doubt he could be.

Sighing, at my lack of
response, he said, “Well, I guess you owe me then.” Owe him, I didn’t even know
him.

“Look, I promise to
destroy your picture,” I said, quickly. “I really didn’t mean to break any
laws.”

And then he broke out
in a brilliant smile, a truly bright genuine smile that catches me off guard.
"What did you mean to do?"

Blinking my eyes
rapidly, I at a loss on what to say.  “I was capturing life,” I admit.  What I
don’t say was that I was also capturing beautiful things like himself.

“Is that all?” he
asked, with a sardonic brow raised.

Stuttering seemed to
come natural suddenly. “I… It was just so beautiful out here.”

“So you like beautiful
things,” he said. And I get the impression he’s caught on that I find him
attractive. And there is no way he doesn’t know just how hot he is.

“And who doesn’t,” I
said with my chin raised.  I’d found my backbone, a little late I might add.

“Follow me,” he
ordered, keeping my camera, slipping the strap from around my neck.

Wanting it back, I
followed.  His strides were long and I found myself almost running to keep up
with him. We left the grassy middle of the “mall” and ended up on the side of
one of the many buildings that made up the museums run by the Smithsonian.

With his hand on a door
that was marked “employees only”, I couldn’t help taking in an appreciate view
of his backside.  Turning to me, I took his proffered hand. It was smooth, but
still strong and manly. I had no clue where he was taking me, but I wanted to
get my camera which was now in reach.  Okay, honestly I was caught up in him.
He was so good looking, and he was talking to
me
. Me of all people.

Then through my ogling,
alarm bells began to sound off in my head.  I realize my brain had stopped
functioning since he first spoke to me. I had no idea who this guy was or where
we were at because I hadn’t been paying much attention to anything but his
body. Gosh, am I that shallow? No, not normally. But these weren’t normal
circumstances.

Opening the door, he
gestured me inside with my camera. Yes, I wanted my camera back. Focus, Jessa,
I told myself. With only a moment’s hesitation of only looking at him and those
blue eyes, I stepped in and gasped. My eyes were filled with nothing I could
imagine. And I wasn’t talking about the hot guy that stood next to me. Well,
towered over me. And as delightful as he was, all was forgotten.  I was struck
by what was in front of me.

I felt like I stepped
inside a magical woodland. There were many trees, grass growing inside like it
was meant to be there and there was sunshine. The roof had like a
greenhouse-like ceiling above made of glass, letting in lots of filtered light.
The space was fairly large with a path that curved around, and it was like a
park,
indoors.

 But that wasn’t the
amazing part. The incredible part was the thousands of butterflies flying
about.  And how to describe them?  They were every shade of the rainbow my
stupefied mind could comprehend.  Our entrance had sent them fluttering away in
what almost looked like a gigantic colorful cloud. My jaw was open in
stupification.  And I felt a familiar shape pressed into my hand.  On instinct,
I lifted my camera and began to snap away before they landed.  The clicking
sound of the camera only added to the music that was created by the millions of
wings flapping in flight.

“Amazing isn’t it?” he
asked, sounding as awed as I felt. I nodded unable to take my eyes off them. We
began to walk down the path when the butterflies settled down.  Speech had yet
to catch up with my brain. “I thought a girl like you with a camera like that
needed something special to take pictures of.”  The snark was back in his tone.
A girl like me?  What did that mean?  Of course, a guy like him would never be
interested in a girl like me.  I wasn’t my sister.  I was plain Jessa. When I
don't respond he goes on, “That camera of yours is a classic. It’s probably worth
a lot.  You must really be into taking pictures.”

I paused.  How was I
supposed to answer without sounding incredibly lame?  “Or maybe daddy got it
for you,” he said before I could speak.  I look to him then, his eyes alight
with amusement. How the hell was he spot on? “I’m right, aren’t I?” he asked,
chuckling.  He sounded arrogant and amused all at the same time.  Maybe I
should give him a prize. 

Instead, I swallowed my
pride and said nothing. I just made a face and I hid behind the lens and used
my hand to twist the focus to his perfect face and snapped a few pictures of
him.

He narrowed his eyes
and gave me a bored look.  Click.  Rolling his eyes, he said, “You aren’t doing
it right.”  He stepped forward. In surprise, I stepped back. 

And down I went along
with said pride.  I’d fallen over the tiny black fence that lined the pathway
through the woodland.  I was sprawled out and around me were the fallen
butterflies.  From what little I knew about them, they had short life spans. 
And dozens of the little guys lay around me.  Scrambling, I tried to get to my
feet.  My backpack tilted off my side, causing me to fall off balance.  His arm
came out and pulled me to my feet but the momentum sent me hurtling into right
his chest.

Holy hell, it was a solid
chest, and he smelled good.  I nearly buried my head there, but thankfully, I
came to my senses.  I leaned my head back to look at him.  His face held a
smirk, and I stepped back, almost stumbling again. But he hadn’t let me go from
before.

And that is how we were
caught, me stepping away and Ethan holding onto me for dear life. His warm hand
on my skin a match for the flush in my face.

“Ethan,”  a voice from
behind said. And the guy in front of me paled a little.  It was at that moment
I realized he didn’t know my name, but now I knew his. Turning away from the
big man and the voice, I looked back at “Ethan.” His dashingly handsome 'don’t-fuck-with-me
face' was back on. Back to business it seemed. My time with Ethan was over.

Ethan’s voice was a
little gruff, and that made him all the more attractive when he spoke. “Mr.
Jacobson.”

“Your break is over.
And you know the rules, no fraternizing. So I imagine that you’ve brought this
young lady here for an application for the opening we have.”