Through the Lens

by K. K. Allen

  “Desmond,” Chloe says with a laugh as she approaches. I’m currently straightening up, using a butter knife to scrape the fallen breadcrumbs off the tablecloth of the buffet table. “What are you doing?”

  I grin and gesture to the empty buffet. “Just trying to keep busy. Congratulations, by the way. This is a beautiful wedding.”

  Her eyes soften, and she places her hands on her hips. “Thank you, but I’ll be forced to leave a horrid review for your services if you don’t join in on the fun.”

  I shake my head, feeling flustered. “No, I couldn’t. You’re paying me to keep your guests full.”

  “And you’ve done that superbly. Now come join us.”

  Gavin comes up behind her and places his arms around Chloe. “What my wife is trying to say is that you weren’t just invited here to cater the event. We’d love for you to join us. In fact, I’m heading to the bar now. What’s your poison?”

  Against my better judgment—and not wanting to be rude—I join Gavin at the bar on the other side of the dance floor. He gets me a beer, and while we’re still there, one of the groomsmen buys everyone at the bar a shot of whiskey. Again, I don’t want to be rude.

  The next thing I know, Zach is joining us at the bar to grab a water, and Gavin is sneaking off to find his bride. “Finally coming to join the party, huh?”

  I shrug. “Guess so, dude. Where’s your girl? She was pretty excited to see you.”

  Zach points at a couple of girls in the center of the dance floor. Maggie and Monica are laughing as they dance all-out with some crazy dance moves. Arms are flying, hips are bumping, and I can’t help but smile at seeing Maggie have so much fun.

  “So what’s your deal with Maggie. You like her?”

  The question catches me so off guard, I yank my eyes from the girls and narrow them at Zach. Meanwhile, my heart is beating a million miles an hour in my chest. “What? No, dude. We hate each other, remember?”

  Zach narrows his eyes. “Yeah, I’m starting to think you two hate each other a little too much. You care about her. I didn’t see it before, but I do now.”

  I scoff and shake my head. “I’m with her all the time, thanks to you and Monica. We drive each other fucking nuts. Don’t start this with me, okay?”

  I don’t know why I’m so insistent on making Zach believe my lies, but he doesn’t seem to be buying it at all.

  “You’re a grown-ass man, dude. Just be careful, okay? Maggie isn’t someone you should mess around with if you aren’t going to take it seriously.”

  This time I remain silent, and I know it’s as much of an admission as I’ll allow. It’s not like I’m fooling him anyway. Zach is my best friend. If anyone’s going to see through my bullshit, it’s him.

  Zach reaches around me and squeezes my neck. “Anyway, have fun tonight, dude. I haven’t seen you do that since our trip to Hawaii last year.”

  I sigh, not wanting to point out that I had a great time last week at a concert with Maggie, a night I would love to redo if I could. Except instead of pulling her into the back seat, I would have pulled her into the front. Okay, scratch that. If we’re talking about redos, then I would go back to that first night she got into my car when I failed to mention the truth about where I got it.

  Zach doesn’t stick around. The moment he gets his water, he takes off for Monica, and I’m left peering at the dance floor from the bar.

  I try not to glare at Justin, who just asked Maggie to dance and is currently trying to pull her closer to him. She’s laughing, leaning into him, and getting a little too comfortable in his arms. They’re friends, so I get it. But when one, two, three songs later, they’re still dancing together, I start to feel my patience unravel.

  I’m two seconds away from throwing a wrench into their little dance-off when Justin whispers something in Maggie’s ear then heads toward the bar. And there she is, in the middle of the dance floor, alone. He proceeds to push up to the bar beside me and order two vodka sodas, one of those with three limes. That’s Maggie’s drink, and hearing him order it is enough of a push for me to leave the bar and move through the dance crowd until Maggie is directly under my nose.

  “My turn.”

  Her eyes snap to mine, and she takes an immediate step back. “Try that again.” Her words are fierce and clear. That’s not how you ask a woman to dance. We may not have known each other very long, but we’re both from a place where manners come first between a man and a woman, and my approach was one-hundred-percent wrong.

  “Cut me some slack, Maggie. I’d really like to dance with you.”

  “Why?”

  Is she serious? “Because in two minutes, your dance partner will be back with your drink, and I’d like to remind you why you shouldn’t dance with him again.”

  Her eyes freeze on mine before she follows up that cold look with a roll of her eyes. “Oh, really?”

  I nod curtly. “Yes, really.”

  “You are something else.”

  I step closer and encircle my arms around her waist. She doesn’t pull away, causing me to smile. “It’s about time you think so.”

  She places her hands on my chest and tosses her half-ponytail updo over her shoulder, all the while fighting the smile that’s already tipping up her cheeks. “It’s not a slow song, Desmond. Please tell me you can move those hips of yours like a true gentleman.”

  I grin at her joke and pull my hands away. “Challenge accepted.” I start to move to the beat and wait for her to join in. I might not be the best dancer in the world, but I’ve got enough rhythm to hold my own. In fact, my love for dancing might just be a close third to my love for food and photography.

  Maggie is full-on laughing now, but she’s dancing too. “Okay, okay. Does this courage have anything to do with that shot I saw you taking at the bar?”

  I grin. “Sounds like someone’s been watching me. I’m only on drink number two, so my courage has room to grow.”

  She groans. “How about you stop counting? Just for one night?”

  I ignore her suggestion. That won’t happen. “How about you stop running your mouth and dance with me, gorgeous?” I find her hand and use it to tug her toward me. Her body slams into mine, and her smile widens, as if she couldn’t hold back her joy even if she tried. And her joy is contagious.

  I hold onto the hand I tugged and wrap my other arm around her waist, holding her firmly against me while I move us to the beat. She follows well enough, despite my desperate need to see her smile and laugh again. Then I change direction when she least expects it, causing her to throw her head back and laugh. Everyone around us is bumping and grinding on the dance floor, and sure, we could do that too. But there’s something about Maggie that brings me back to my roots. To the days when I would hide away in my garage and secretly teach myself how to dance, all so that I could impress some girl at an upcoming dance.

  I’m so lost in the moment, in Maggie, that I don’t expect the tap on the shoulder when it comes. Looking up, I register Justin’s face. Clearly, he can see that Maggie and I are having fun here, but he’s back anyway.

  “Hey, Des,” he greets with a grin, like we’re the best of friends instead of acquaintances who happen to see each other at home football games. Then he grins at Maggie while reaching past me with her drink. “Just how you like it.”

  Maggie accepts it with a smile, but it falters quickly when she looks between Justin and me. “Um…” she says, like she’s about to let us both down gently.

  But then Justin holds out his hand, even though one of mine is still around her waist. “How about another dance?” he asks her, completely ignoring me now.

  I guess that’s one way to steal a girl away without causing a fight—speak directly to her and ignore the guy currently holding her.

  The rage inside me is building, but I know better than to take it out on a man with a crush. I’ve gotten into enough fights to know how this will end if I unleash that beast inside me. Never again. It was a promise I made to myself aro
und the same time I made my pledge against drinking too much.

  I take a step back, releasing my hold on Maggie. It might be wishful hoping, but I swear her eyes flicker with disappointment as she slides her gaze from me to Justin.

  “Sure,” she says with ease.

  Just like that, I’ve been replaced. I swallow before turning around and walking back to the bar. I lean my back against it, desperately trying to keep my eyes from Maggie and Justin. I could pick some other girl to dance with, someone who wouldn’t move on to someone else so easily, but as my eyes float around the perimeter of the dance floor in a lazy search, a pair of caramel ones catch on mine.

  She’s dancing with him, but she’s looking at me.

  My heart is drumming against my rib cage. I should have never let her out of my hold. I should have stayed by her side. I should have fought to keep her in my arms. And that’s a lesson I only need to learn once.

  My feet start to carry me back to the center of the dance floor where I left her before my mind can think logically about my next step. All I know is that the music is transitioning into a slower one, and Justin is creeping in closer to my girl. My girl. Maggie may not belong to anyone, but to me, she’s mine, even if just on this dance floor.

  I tap Justin’s back the way he tapped on mine, and he stalls in midstep just like he forced me to do. When he turns around, his eyes widen in surprise, but just as quickly, they settle into understanding. Bro code. And I just delivered it. I ignore him, taking a card from his playing deck, and pin Maggie with my stare. “Would you honor me with another dance, Maggie Stevens?” I’m laying it on a little thick, but her grin is so wide that I know it was worth it.

  She turns to Justin with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, Justin. I’m going to dance with Desmond now.”

  Justin nods, making it no secret that he’s disappointed. Then he turns to me with a friendly fist bump before he walks away. And then Maggie is right back where she belongs, in my arms.

  This time, I’m not letting her go, not ever.

  29

  Without Even Trying

  Maggie

  Everything I’ve been suppressing in my heart, mind, and soul when it comes to Desmond Blake sparks to life the moment he takes me back in his hold. That’s how it feels, and I can’t even try to deny it now, not with how swelled my heart grows in my chest as he holds my gaze. A combustible energy sizzles between us that neither of us have a chance at stopping. It’s similar to that feeling that swallowed me whole the night of the concert, but something about this feels different.

  He’s closer now, mentally and physically. Resisting him all week has done nothing to ease the growing sexual tension between us. It might have even made it all worse because I’ve already experienced the danger of Desmond’s touch and the sinful kisses that found their way to my neck, my lips, and my breasts. As much as I know I shouldn’t, I want a repeat of that performance but, this time, without interruption. I want to know how we fit together physically, because mentally, in some strange crazy way, like the most complicated puzzle, our pieces absolutely fit.

  While my heart is racing, I manage to keep up with Desmond’s natural ability to move around a dance floor. Not that there’s much room to move, but he carries the beat like it was born in him. His gentle grip on the small of my back palms me in a way that feels gentle yet all-consuming. With his chest pressed to mine, his gaze caressing me without a shred of indecency, and with his feet timed so perfectly to mine, we might as well be tied together. Anyone around us might think we’ve been dancing this way for years.

  Desmond leans forward slowly and presses a kiss to my cheek. Then his lips travel to my ear. “I meant what I said earlier. You look beautiful, Maggie. Tonight, tomorrow, yesterday. I’ve never thought anything different. And…” He pulls back so he’s looking at me. I feel naked beneath his all-consuming gaze. “I’m desperate to ask you not to dance with anyone else tonight, but of course, that’s your choice.”

  If words could light a fire, then his just went straight from his chest to mine. I swallow because I don’t know how to make sense of my thoughts when I can’t hear myself think over my own heartbeat. “Was that you in the woods earlier today?” I suck in a breath. “Watching me?”

  Desmond’s smile curves into a faint smirk. “I thought you might have caught me.”

  I bite down on my bottom lip, suddenly feeling bashful. Just minutes ago, I was in the driver’s seat, but now I’m struggling to hold on to the wheel. “I wasn’t sure.”

  “I couldn’t take my eyes off you. I haven’t been able to all night.”

  My thoughts are racing a million miles an hour, but one thought pulls into the lead, smoking out the rest and adding to my anxiety. “Are you sure? I’m not exactly your type.”

  His smile fades, and his lips twist with confusion. “What type would that be?”

  I shrug. “That woman you were talking to before the ceremony before you came over to talk to Zach and me.” I cringe a little, hating that I feel the need to point this out. “You know. That more mature woman.”

  Desmond lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. “Holy fuck, Zach was warning you away from me, wasn’t he?”

  When he searches my expression for an answer, I sigh. “Maybe.”

  He rolls his eyes then brings his gaze back to mine. “I might not have the best track record when it comes to women, but I’ve always been honest—with them, with you—and I’m not ashamed of my past. And if by my type, Zach means that I go for safe women, women who won’t expect roses and romance, then yeah. I guess I have a type.”

  His answer doesn’t exactly do much for my nerves. I should take comfort in knowing that Desmond isn’t interested in a relationship since that’s the last thing I want with him. But even as I tell myself that, I’m not quite sure I believe it.

  He leans in and places a kiss on my cheek. “I’m not perfect. Never have been. But I’ll never lie to you, Maggie. That’s one promise I can make you.”

  We’re done talking when Desmond dips me, supporting my arch before bringing me back into his hold. Dancing with Desmond is effortless, just like bantering with him. He’s just… Desmond, and like always, the pull I feel toward him is strong, but so is my need to run.

  For the next two hours, we dance, drink, and laugh. I almost think he’s stopped counting his drinks until he waves away a shot offered to him by Gavin. “I can’t man. Thank you, but I need to drive that van home soon.”

  My jaw drops, and I laugh up at him. “You can’t deny a shot from the groom at his own wedding. It’s bad luck!” I don’t know if I just made that superstition up or if it actually existed, but it sounds good coming out of my mouth. “You’ve only had one since we started dancing.”

  “Yeah,” Desmond says coolly while glancing down at his phone. “But it’s ten o’clock.”

  “And you’re going to turn into a pumpkin?” I tease with a tilt of my head. I don’t want this night to be over.

  “No, smart-ass, but I do need to pick up the trays and load the van.” He hesitates to leave me on the dance floor, and my heart skips a beat. I imagine the reason why he doesn’t want to leave me is because he doesn’t want me to dance with anyone else.

  “I’ll come with you and help,” I offer.

  Desmond blinks like he doesn’t understand me. “Really? You don’t have to.”

  “I want to.”

  “Okay, but don’t expect me to pay you overtime.”

  I roll my eyes and follow him to the catering table. He starts on one side, and I start on the other. We’re able to stack most of the trays since they’re empty, but the ones we can’t, I empty into a few containers that Desmond plans to drop off at a nearby shelter on his way home. After four trips, everything is in the van, and we’re standing near the tree, debating whether or not to rejoin the reception.

  “Do you need a ride home?” he asks nonchalantly as he plays with his keys.

  I open my mouth to tell him no but then have a
change of heart. “Monica offered to share her hotel room tonight, but…”

  His brows lift in anticipation.

  “If you’re okay to drive, I think I’d rather go back to my studio.”

  “I’m okay to drive,” he says quickly. “Do you want to stay for a bit, or—”

  “Let’s go for a walk first. I hear it’s pretty out here at night.”

  “Lead the way.”

  I swallow and start to walk in the direction of the path that connects to the falls where we took the bridal photos. As soon as we get to the fork in the path, I smile back at Desmond and tug him to the right, toward the sound of the falls.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll see.” I don’t let go of his hand until we arrive at a circular clearing with a balcony that overlooks a brightly lit waterfall. “Now you don’t have to spy on me from afar,” I tease him with a grin. “You can check out this beauty right here with me.”

  His eyes are locked over my shoulder at the stunning sight. “Oh, wow. I’ve never seen it at night.”

  I grin, enjoying his reaction almost more than my own experience. “It’s beautiful, right?”

  His palms wrap around the balcony rail beside me, and his eyes are glued to the rushing falls. He releases a breath that relaxes his shoulders. “It’s unbelievable.”

  Everything about the falls appears so much larger than it did earlier. They seem bigger, louder, grander, and alive. I lean onto the rail beside him and shut my eyes. I lift my chin and breathe against the breeze. For how long, I’m not sure, but I know I haven’t felt this at peace in a very long time.

  “You should do this more often.”

  Desmond’s voice catches me off guard, and I whip my head around to find him with his phone camera aimed at me. My heart sinks as anxiety weaves its way through me. “What are you doing?”