Time Exposure (Click Duet #2) (Bay Area Duet Series)

by Persephone Autumn

  I fear opening my mouth, fear speaking. Afraid my words will be unintelligible. Garbled. So, I swallow and shake my head.

  Gavin presses his palm against my breastbone and locks his steely eyes on mine. “Because I’m here.” Then he reaches out, takes my hand, and places it over his heart. Beneath my palm, his heart beats a vicious rhythm. “And you are here. Before we met, we held a piece of each other hostage. It wasn’t until we found each other that those pieces reconnected. As if they’d known each other in another lifetime.”

  I will not fucking cry.

  “Cora, you’re it for me. No matter how hard I tried to forget about you, no matter what I did over the last thirteen years, you always danced in my dreams and called out to my heart. I may have ignored it for stupid reasons, but it was there nonetheless.”

  Goddamnit.

  He is going to make me cry. He rests his cheek against mine as his lips hover near my ear. My chest rises and falls as I gasp for breath. I pinch my eyes shut. Swallow hard. Curl and uncurl my fingers.

  “I love you, Cora. More than anything or anyone in this world. And fuck if I don’t want to kiss you in the middle of this arcade, in front of all these people.”

  My breath comes faster, but I don’t say a word. Will he kiss me? I want to kiss him, but still hesitate. Kissing Gavin again will end any chance I have at resistance. We need time. Time to relearn each other. Time to adjust to a newer version of us. A little more time.

  Or am I being absurd?

  We have spent so much time apart. Days and months and years disconnected. Broken. Hurt. Do I really want to waste more time? Do I really want to keep him at arm’s length? No, I don’t. And keeping us divided when he has done everything in his power to bring us back together is asinine.

  I lean back from Gavin just enough to see his eyes. If I shift an inch to the side, we would kiss. His eyes lock on mine and read every thought passing through them. And I know he knows what I think. He doesn’t flinch or veer from his position. A second later, his eyes close and he draws in a labored breath.

  This is it. The moment we have been leading up to. The inevitable.

  I line my lips up with his, leaving only a shadow between us. Just as I lean in, just as I’m about to give myself over to him, someone brushes my arm and I retreat.

  “Hey, man. Sorry to interrupt. Can I talk with you a minute?”

  I open my eyes and spot Jonas beside us. His gaze fixed on Gavin, who is staring at me. Gavin’s eyes burn with familiar longing. Something I saw every time he looked at me years ago. Something primal and potent and only ours. It resonates in my marrow. Keeps the chambers of my heart beating. Jonas may be inches from us, but we only see each other. Only feel each other.

  Gavin’s eyes still connected with mine, he answers Jonas. “Sure, man. What’s up?”

  Jonas shifts foot to foot. “Maybe over there.” Jonas points to a table ten feet from us.

  “Yeah, no problem.” Gavin kisses my forehead. “I’ll be back in a minute, baby. Finish my game and yours.”

  I nod and watch as Gavin and Jonas walk over to the empty table and sit down. They sit so neither of them faces me, but I see both their profiles. Jonas starts talking and Gavin listens intently. Seeing as I can’t read lips, staring at them will get me nowhere.

  So, I go back to the game, tossing ball after ball up my lane and Gavin’s. When his game ends, I finish the round on my lane. Occasionally, I peek over my shoulder at them. They don’t shift in position. Neither of them appears to be angry or ready to throw down—which is a good sign. Two more rounds pass before Gavin walks back over to me. His expression neutral.

  “Hey. What did Jonas want to talk to you about?” I ask.

  He wraps his arms around me and squeezes me close. “I’ll tell you in a little bit. Are you hungry?” He kisses my forehead then leans back to peer down at me.

  I don’t argue with him. If Gavin says he will tell me later, he will. “Yeah. Let’s find everyone else and grab dinner.”

  Micah seems a bit perturbed when we disrupt his virtual reality simulation, but agrees to meet us at a table. A moment later, we locate Shelly and Erin playing Dance Dance Revolution—Jonas teasing their dance skills.

  We all converge at a table and order drinks and food. Light chatter fills the space between us. The dynamic between Gavin and Jonas has shifted into something unfamiliar. They sit opposite one another, but don’t look or speak to each other. I find it very peculiar. I want to ask Gavin what they talked about, but remind myself he will share with me later. So, I ask Shelly and Erin who is winning their DDR showdown.

  I never got into DDR. Classic games have always been my thing. Pinball, Skee-Ball, Pac-Man. But I love Shelly and Erin’s enthusiasm for DDR. So, like the amazing best friend that I am, I listen as they regale us with colorful accounts of their competitions. And to be honest, they are pretty hardcore. Intimidating. Kind of makes me glad I never got into it.

  Micah and Gavin talk quietly beside me. Micah mentions Peyton and I stop listening. It isn’t my place to interrupt two guys chatting about a girl. Especially one I don’t know. Who knows how much Micah has told Gavin. But if Micah is bringing her up again, one thing is certain. Micah has a major interest in her. Hopefully Gavin can reassure him that it is okay to move on from his ex. She was a real piece of work and it sucks he still harbors feelings for her.

  I peer at Jonas and note his eyes glued to me. How long has he been staring? I wiggle in my seat and Gavin places a hand on my thigh. Ease passes through him to me and I relax into his side.

  Jonas mouths you okay? His eyes pinch at the corners and his lips form a tight line. I smile and nod at him. Yeah. Perfect. I mouth back as I rest a hand over Gavin’s. Everything is exactly as it should be in this moment. How it should have been for years.

  When we finish eating, Jonas, Shelly, and Erin leave. When hugs are exchanged, Jonas whispers in my ear. “Good to see you happy. It suits you.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper back, hugging him a little harder.

  Micah tells us he will be back after another game and then be ready to leave. After Micah walks off, I ask Gavin what he and Jonas talked about earlier.

  “Jonas was quite forthcoming.” Gavin takes my hand and weaves his fingers with mine. “He told me he’s been in love with you for years. We spent most of the conversation getting to know more about each other. And now, I know he’s a good guy. I also know he won’t be more than your friend because he doesn’t want to hurt or lose you.” Gavin pauses a moment and chuckles. “He also told me if I ever hurt you again, he’d cut my dick off.”

  “Oh my god,” I say, slapping a hand over my mouth.

  “Yeah. At least I know he’ll protect you if I’m unable to.” Gavin lifts my hand to his lips and presses a few soft kisses to my knuckles. Warmth spreads up my limb, weaves its way through my chest and strikes my heart like lightning. “He also wished us luck. Said this, minus the last couple of weeks, is the happiest he’s ever seen you. And that’s all he wants.”

  I swear the guys in my life are out to make me cry. There will always be something I love about Jonas. My love for him is more familial, but love nonetheless. How the hell did I get so lucky? How did I end up with so many wonderful people in my life? Family and friends and people I don’t want to live a day without.

  “Well it sounds like you two had a great talk.” And it sounds like they built a bridge and are trying to meet in the middle for me. I hope one day Gavin and Jonas will be good friends. After time passes, I picture them laughing over beers together.

  When Micah finishes his game, we decide to leave. We wander through the parking lot and over to my car. Gavin hands his keys to Micah. “I’ll be there in a minute.” Micah nods and leaves us. We stare after him as he walks to the Range Rover masked in the shadows.

  Once Micah slips into the SUV, Gavin takes a strand of my hair between his fingers and plays with it. “Go on a date with me, baby. Just the two of us.”

  Eve
ry muscle in my body screams at me to say yes. But the wall around my heart stands firmly in place and says we need a little more time before it is just the two of us.

  Earlier, I almost annihilated that wall by kissing him, but life intervened. And that little disruption made me wonder if it was a sign I was moving forward too fast. Can’t be sure. If Gavin loves me, he won’t mind if I tell him to have a little more patience. After all, he had the patience of a saint while we were together.

  “Don’t hate me,” I say as I squint. “Is it okay if we hang with everyone again tomorrow night?”

  Please be good with this. Please, please, please.

  He strokes my hair, grazes his thumb along my jawline, then kisses the tip of my nose. “If that’s what you want, baby. As long as I get to spend time with you, I’m happy.”

  I sag into his touch. “Thank you.”

  He kisses the crown of my head then hugs me as if he never will again. “For you, anything. I’ll see you tomorrow, baby. Drive safe. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. See you tomorrow.”

  Gavin breaks our hug and starts toward his car, fingers still in mine until distance separates us. As he gets in his car, I get in mine. He and Micah talk a moment until he puts the car in gear.

  I idle in the parking lot a moment, waving to Gavin as he and Micah drive off. He hasn’t mentioned it, but tomorrow is Gavin’s birthday and I want to surprise him. I want to host a game night. Ask everyone to bring food and drinks and laughter. Maybe decorate the house and have a cake. Make it one of his best birthdays yet.

  Gavin and I may have been apart more than a decade, but some dates will be forever engraved in my heart. Including the day Gavin was brought into the world. And Gavin is definitely worth celebrating.

  Eighteen

  Gavin

  Eight years ago

  Today is the happiest and saddest day of my life.

  November twenty-first.

  Mine and Cora’s anniversary. If we were still together, today would be our seventh anniversary. If it were a wedding anniversary, I would buy her something made of wool or copper. We would be corny like that, buying gifts according to outdated anniversary traditions. Finding unique ways to celebrate our time together.

  But we haven’t celebrated an anniversary together in over five years now. Not that I plan to celebrate this date as anything except ours. This day, until the day I die, will be ours.

  Fuck.

  I want to call her. Am desperate to hear her voice.

  Would she still sound the same? Is she happy? Does she miss me like I fucking miss her? Some days, I don’t have it in me to breathe, let alone exist in the world. Every time I talk with Micah, I ask vague questions about Shelly in the hopes he will give me a hint of something regarding Cora. But he gives nothing away. And it fucking sucks. He knows I won’t come right out and ask, so he dances around my inadvertent questions.

  Rather than hunt for a gift I will never give Cora, I opt for something else. Something permanent that will add a piece of her to me. A lifelong reminder—not as if I need one, but somehow this enhances our bond. With things booming in my career, I have gone back and forth for weeks about this. But it is my fucking body and I will do with it what I please.

  I walk into the tattoo shop and walk up to the reception area. A young woman with fluorescent green hair peeks up from her magazine. She swivels the lollipop in her mouth from left to right a few times. “What can I do for you?” She pops the lollipop from her lips, licks them, then puts the lollipop back in her mouth. Don’t know why, but it annoys the shit out of me.

  “I have an appointment with Talon,” I say.

  She scans the screen before clicking the mouse. “I need a copy of your ID and for you to fill out this paper.” She hands me a clipboard. While she makes a copy of my license, I read over, fill out, and sign the form. She hands me back my license. “He’ll be with you in a minute. You can have a seat.” She points to a leather couch off to the side and goes back to her magazine as if I never walked in.

  “Thanks,” I mumble.

  A few minutes later, a burly man greets me and introduces himself as Talon. His arms are sleeved with a mishmash of tattoos. Muscles twice the size of mine. A bald head with full facial hair. And he towers over me by at least five inches, which is saying something considering I am six-two. Intimidating is definitely an adjective I would associate with this guy.

  Talon leads me to a small cubicle with a black leather seat. He tugs a lever and flattens the table. “Have a seat, man. Here’s the image you sent me.” He slides a paper toward me. “This is what you want, right?”

  “Yeah, between my shoulder blades,” I reply.

  Talon nods. “Is the size good? Or you want it bigger?”

  I study the image a moment. Go big or go home, right? “Let’s go a little bigger. Whatever you think will look best with the space.”

  He walks away and I stare around the booth. The short walls are littered with photos of other tattoos Talon has done. They range from intricate to minimal. Symbols and portraits and watercolor and quotes. Some with tons of color, others done with thin lines of black ink. Seeing all these photos—a portfolio of sorts—is reassurance this guy has done enough tattoos to not fuck mine up.

  When he walks back into the booth, he shows me the new, larger version of the tattoo. “Look good?”

  “Perfect. Thanks, man.”

  Talon directs me to take off my shirt, lay on the table, and find a comfortable position for my arms. He tells me how long he thinks the tattoo will take and that we will take occasional breaks, if needed. After everything is prepped and ready, he dips the tattoo gun in the ink and presses a peddle. When the buzz erupts next to me, I startle.

  “You have any other tattoos, man?” Talon prompts.

  “Nope. This is the first.”

  “Virgin skin,” he says with a wicked gleam in his eye and wide grin on his lips. “My favorite.”

  The buzz cracks again and a sting pricks my skin. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Sweat breaks out across my skin as adrenaline floods my veins. As he moves the needle over my skin, a blend of pain and thrill courses through me. Each line of ink he impregnates my skin with, I grow one step closer to Cora. She is the only reason I would mar my skin with something so permanent.

  An hour into the tattoo, Talon asks me why I am getting a Lord of the Rings tattoo.

  Not many people in California know Cora’s and my history. I have mentioned things about her to Alyson and Layla, but never her name and never too much detail. Cora is my heart. Something I have no intention on spreading like free samples. Even though we have been apart for years, I hug her essence close to my chest and protect it with every breath.

  “My soul mate.” It’s all I say.

  But that isn’t enough for Talon. He wants more. “You’re getting a tattoo for a girl? Shouldn’t that be hearts or butterflies? Maybe initials or a date?”

  He teases me, knowing I will tell him more. And he is right. “Nah, she’s not a hearts and butterflies kind of girl. She is, on the other hand, addicted to Lord of the Rings. So, this is fitting and perfect.”

  Talon teases me further. “Aren’t you a sweetheart. Does she have a tattoo for you?”

  His question is innocent, but it gets under my skin and stabs at the throbbing organ beneath my sternum. “No, she hasn’t gotten any ink yet.” At least not that I am aware of. I haven’t seen her in years, but I couldn’t imagine her getting a tattoo without purpose. Talon doesn’t need such information, though.

  A few hours pass before the tattoo gun goes silent. He sprays something on a paper towel and swipes it over my newly tattooed skin. Although my skin is slightly numb, the wiping stings. A minute later, he helps me up and hands me a hand mirror. “Use that to check it out on the wall mirror.” He points to a floor-length mirror opposite his booth.

  I walk over and turn my back to the wall mirror and hold up the one in my hand. Twisting to see from differ
ent angles, I glance over the black ink on my back. Absolutely perfect.

  “What’s it say?” Talon asks as I stare at the mirror. “Elvish, right?”

  “Yeah. Above the stars it says love. At the roots, it says forever. Lord of the Rings fan?”

  “Only seen them once, but remembered the tree. So, I assumed the writing. Your girl will love it, man. The nipple piercings, too.”

  “Thanks.”

  One day, I hope she gets to see it.

  Nineteen

  Gavin

  Present

  The stereo blares in the living room. Queen’s “Another One Bites The Dust” at a volume way too loud for this early in the morning.

  Micah comes up and taps my shoulder. “Get up, brother. Happy motherfucking birthday.”

  You have got to be fucking kidding me. I groan, roll to face the back of the couch, and smother myself with the pillow over my face. “Go away. It’s too fucking early for this bullshit.”

  “Nope.” He yanks the pillow from my hands. “I haven’t celebrated a damn birthday with you in years. We’re rectifying that right now. Up you go.” He tugs the blanket off me and walks away, whistling like a cocky bastard.

  “Asshole,” I grumble as I sit up. “What time is it?”

  Micah walks back into the room, pillow and blanket gone, and tosses a shirt at me. “Almost ten. For us normal folks, early was three hours ago. Uppity up.” He steps up beside the couch and waves his hands as if to push me off.

  “Since when do you get up early. Don’t you mainly work at night? Like late?”

  He doesn’t respond.

  After a minute, I get up and stumble to the bathroom. I crank the shower to scalding and step in. The water slowly washes the sleep off me, and soon I step out.

  Once dressed, Micah suggests we go out for breakfast. I agree, but tell him he has to go with me to an appointment after. He directs us to a mom-and-pop restaurant where the line for a table is ten deep. After we get seated, we order breakfast and talk about everyone hanging out later tonight. He tells me he didn’t hang around everyone else while I was in California because it felt weird. Supposedly, he has no idea what tonight entails, but I believe he knows more than he lets on.