Through the Lens (Click Duet #1) (Bay Area Duet Series)

by Persephone Autumn

  The answer is simple really. Cora is my home. She is the one place where I feel most at ease. The one person I can be myself around and never feel a sense of shame or reservation or judgment. She makes my breathing spike and my heart soar. And her fingers on me… her touch is lightning in my veins.

  There is no other person I could imagine spending my life with. I may be only fifteen—almost sixteen—and less experienced with life, but this fact is etched in my bones. Carved since the day I was born. Not just for me, but for her as well.

  After a moment, she drags in a breath and faces the steering wheel. “You ready?” she asks, her voice unsteady.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Rock music spills out of the speakers as we drive toward Indian Rocks Beach. For our one-year anniversary, we decided to go to a small Italian restaurant between the beach and intercoastal. Asian food is Cora’s version of crack, but she wanted to do something different tonight. And as many times as I told her we could go to our favorite Thai or Japanese restaurant, she gracefully suggested we go somewhere new.

  To create a new memory for this milestone moment. A memory we will never forget. I wanted to tell her there is no way I would ever forget any minute involving her.

  Pulling into the parking lot, she finds a space and parks. We get out of the car and it is the first time tonight I get the opportunity to see what she wears. Part of me is shocked, while another part of me is turned on.

  For the first time ever, Cora is in a dress. Her usual denim bottoms and cotton graphic tee are nowhere to be found. But this dress suits her. In more ways than one. The fabric clings to her like a second skin, accentuating all the curves lying beneath. Curves I have touched, but not really seen altogether. Nestled in the black material are small shapes I can’t make out from where I stand. As I inch closer to her, looping her arm in mine, I see the shapes are cat faces. From afar, anyone could misconstrue them as polka dots. Her dress is the perfect mix of black, rock and Cora.

  “You look beautiful,” I tell her, planting a kiss at her temple.

  “Thank you. You’re looking pretty good yourself.”

  To be honest, I feel underdressed next to her. In a pair of black jeans and a navy button-down with the cuffs rolled to my elbows, this is the most dressed up I have been since I was little and my mom dressed me for special occasions. It isn’t that I don’t look nice, but Cora is stunning.

  The hostess walks us to our table, a flickering votive candle and a small vase holding two red roses rest in the center. Our server greets and informs us of the specials for the evening, then takes our drink orders and disappears. We are both silent as we look over the menu, my mouth watering at all the delicious options. In my periphery, I catch Cora setting her menu down.

  “Do you know what you’re having?” I inquire.

  “Yeah. I was tossed up between the spaghetti carbonara and the gnocchi a la Villa Gallace. They both sound amazing, but I think I’ll get the carbonara. You want to share the Caesar salad for two?”

  “Caesar sounds good. I’m still on the fence. Lasagna or rigatoni Bolognese?” I look to her for guidance.

  “Ooh, that’s a tough call,” she says, tapping a finger against her pushed out lips. “Layers or tubes, layers or tubes.” She bobs her head side to side as she tries to help me decide. “Tubes,” she exclaims. “That’s what I would choose.”

  “Tubes for the win!” I belt out a little too loud, mouthing my apologies to the other patrons when they look at me. “Oops,” I whisper, both of us laughing with hands over our mouths.

  Our server returns, setting our drinks and a basket of bread with garlic and herb oil on the table, then takes our order. When he walks away, we simply gaze at one another. In the time since Cora and I first met, we have learned we don’t need to fill time by talking about things that don’t hold value to us. We have a bond, a language all our own. Words don’t need to be spoken. We just know. I stretch my hand across the table and she places hers in mine. Connected. Everything is always better when we are connected.

  Our dinner arrives and we dive right in. On the small bread plates, we each portion our dish and pass it to the other. As we eat, we talk about school and friends and our plans during the summer. When we finish, I pay the bill and we leave the restaurant.

  Cora drives the car to a beach access parking lot on the other side of the two-lane street. This time of day is generally busy and it can be challenging to find a space, but we land one and make our way to the sand. Just before we step onto the beach, both of us slip our shoes off and carry them as we stroll onto the warmed, soft grains.

  After walking for five minutes, we locate a spot where no one obstructs the view in front of us. Plopping down on the sand, Cora leans into me as we watch the sunset. We had timed dinner perfectly so we wouldn’t miss this moment. If you have never watched the sunset along the water’s horizon, you have been deprived.

  The sunset was a favorite of mine. Sharing it with my girl made it more special.

  Right now, the sun radiates a hot orange glow like the sphere of fire it is. The sky surrounding it shifts from a soft blue to a light yellow. And the lower the sun drops on the horizon, the more brilliant the colors. Yellow morphs into faint and then bold oranges. A mixture of orange and pink spark next, filtering between the clouds. Shadows and hints of purple edge the stratocumulus clouds floating above as the sun slowly descends.

  When the sun dips below the horizon, the sky still dances with colors and clouds. The visual is magical and I am so lucky I get to share it with someone I love.

  I shift and turn to face Cora more, her head lifting from my shoulder. One arm still wrapped around her waist, I bring the other to her face and cup her jaw, brushing my thumb over her lips. “I love you,” I whisper.

  Just now, it is the first time those words have been said in our relationship, but I mean them with every fiber in my soul. Whether or not she reciprocates doesn’t matter. Something inside me yearned to release the sentiment. Like a ticking timebomb would detonate inside me if I held it in any longer.

  Her eyes hold mine—unmoving, welling. She kisses my thumb that continues to stroke her lips. “I love you, too.” The second those words leave her lips, every single molecule inside me radiates warmth. My soul is complete, whole.

  Under the brilliance of the setting sun, I lean in and kiss the hell out of the only person in this world that matters to me. The only girl I will ever say those three miraculous words to. My Cora. My love.

  We stumble into Cora’s house, giddy as school girls. After our proclamations, we left the beach and headed back to her house to watch a movie since I have a few hours until curfew. No doubt it would be Lord of the Rings again. But I don’t care, as long as she is beside me. In my arms.

  When I notice all the lights are off, I prompt, “Where are your parents?”

  “At some charity function in Tampa. They probably won’t be home till close to midnight, if it’s anything like last year.”

  A sudden rush of anxiety trickles up my spine, spreads through my limbs, and explodes beneath my sternum. Today is our anniversary. We are alone. After professing our love for each other. And she is looking at me like she has no desire to watch a movie, but perhaps do something else. Something more.

  She stalks closer, locks eyes with me and stops when her chest brushes mine. Her fingers reach out and draw lines down my bicep, my forearm, interlocking our fingers. Heat expands and contracts like a breathing organism in my chest. My breath comes in quick, short bursts as she inches closer and closer. And when she pushes up on her toes and kisses me, I forget how to breathe altogether.

  The kiss starts off tender and gentle. She slides her hands back up my arms and laces them behind my neck, toying with the edges of my hair. Her tongue darts out and swipes a slow and sinful line over my lower lip, and I moan at the sensation as I part my lips and invite her in. My arms snake around her waist and draw her impossibly closer. Within seconds, the kiss elevates into
more. More heated. More passionate. And I can’t get enough of her. Her lips, her warmth, her taste.

  We start moving, but I don’t open my eyes as she slowly guides us. It seems as if we have been walking for hours when her body weight shifts and we settle in place. Our lips break for a moment, which is exactly when I realize we are in her bedroom. Next to her bed. Dim moonlight illuminates the space between the slats of her blinds. And the sudden proximity to her—in the darkness, in her bedroom—amplifies everything I feel for her.

  Standing tall, I gaze down at her as she lies back on the bed, elbows propping her up. I want this—want her—but I need to know she feels the same. That she doesn’t feel a sense of obligation to take us to the next level. That she wants to do this of her own volition. I would never pressure her into doing something she isn’t ready for. Never.

  “Cora…” I rasp, my voice thick with emotion as I draw out her name.

  She reaches out her hand, her eyes telling me to take it. Wrapping her fingers with mine, she drags me closer. My knees bump the edge of the bed and sweat breaks out across my skin. “Yes, Gavin.”

  Yes? As in she is responding to me. Or yes, she wants to do this? Wants to take the next step. Sex. What exactly is she saying yes to?

  “Are you sure?” I ask, reluctance in my tone. I don’t want her saying yes because she thinks it’s what I want her to say. “Because we don’t have to if you’re not ready.”

  Her brilliant green eyes pierce mine, her voice steady and firm when she speaks. “I am sure. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more ready in my life.” She gives my hand a gentle tug, signaling me to join her on the bed.

  This exact moment has infiltrated my dreams for months. I never knew when it would happen, but the fantasy of it was a regular occurrence. Now that it is happening, I am not sure what to do. My feet remain rooted to the floor as I look down at her on the bed. She wants me as much as I want her, although it may be a bit lopsided in my favor. Am I ready for this? To share this once-in-a-lifetime moment with her? Yes, I have never been more ready. So, why am I not moving? Why can I not put my knee on the bed and crawl my way up her body?

  “Gavin?” She peers up at me, confusion furrowing her brow. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay. Just give me a second.”

  “If you’re not—”

  I cut her off. “I am. It’s just… you don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment. And now that it’s here…” I trail off, not knowing how to explain how overwhelmed and buoyant and in love with her I feel right now.

  She rises on the bed, perching up on her knees on the mattress edge. “We can go slow. Maybe just fool around with clothes on. Go from there.”

  I nod, inhale deeply and focus on her eyes. The way they glimmer in the dim light in her room. Her lips. And how soft they feel when I press mine against them. The warmth of her hands as she frames my face and leans forward, her breath teasing my lips. Her frankincense and gardenia scent wafts around me and entices me further. Makes my pulse throb in my ears and my heart pound in my chest. Has my breaths coming faster, dizzyingly. And when I lean in to kiss her, we melt together.

  Our kiss starts off slow, two sets of soft lips brushing together. Her hands slide down my neck and onto my chest as her delicate fingers separate buttons from fabric. I break out in goose bumps when she spreads the cotton, pushes it down my arms, leaves it to dangle from my waist and exposes my skin. A new form of hunger surges beneath my ribcage and in my groin. The kiss morphs, growing in intensity and becoming more animalistic when her nails scratch light lines down the backside of my torso. I tip my head back and gasp.

  She takes hold of my hips and starts to crawl backward on her knees, pulling me on the bed. And this time, I don’t stop her. Every part of me is desperate for her. Lips, mouth, tongue, hands… more.

  Our kiss never falters as she lies back on the mattress and brings me with her. A frenzy erupts between us, and the urge to taste more of her grows stronger with each passing second.

  Breaking the kiss, I paint my lips along her jaw, her ear, down the curve of her neck. Her breath ragged beneath me as her chest rises and falls faster with each taste as I consume every inch of her. Running my hands down the sides of her dress, I slide down her body and begin kissing her ankles, her calves, her thighs. When I reach her dress, I slip my fingers under the hem—warranting a gasp from her—and scoot the material up her body. Cora sits up, helping me lift the tight, stretchy fabric and yanking it off her body.

  As her body lands on the mattress again, my dick jolts at the sight of her. Matching black lace covers her breasts and the junction of her thighs, the material sheer enough to see her pert nipples and a thin patch of curls. Holy shit.

  She wrenches me down, and we are all mouths and tongues and roaming hands. Minutes later, she tosses my shirt away as she unbuttons my jeans and shoves them down my legs. The second my pants hit the floor, my lips move down her chest and explore. My tongue lavishes her nipples before licking its way down her navel and hovering above her panties.

  My eyes lock with hers, asking permission. She nods, running her fingers through my hair and tugging. Slipping my thumbs under the elastic, I slide the lacy triangle down her thighs and to the floor. When I come back to her body, I taste her for the first time. Her addictive flavor a blend of salty and sweetness on my tongue. A moan rips from her throat as I melt into her, my dick throbbing between my legs.

  “Oh, god…” she garbles.

  She is sweeter than any confection I have ever tasted or imagined. But when I kiss my way up her body, and our tongues collide again, I become even hungrier for her. Her hips grind against me, begging for me to give her more.

  Rising from the bed, I reach for my pants and remove my wallet, taking the condom out of the hidden pocket. Holding it between my teeth, I shove down my underwear, tear the package open and roll the condom in place.

  Hovering above her on the mattress, I hold her gaze. Neither of us moves. Neither of us says a word. We stay like this a minute, letting the reality of what we are about to do settle in. Then, I press a soft kiss to her lips. I kiss her slow. I kiss her as if no one else exists.

  “I love you, baby.”

  “I love you, too.”

  And then I learn about heaven.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Cora

  Present

  Why does it feel like this is our first date? The passion and heat and uncertainty. Will he kiss me? Will he stay the night? What will happen once we exit the car? Should I invite him inside?

  Why the hell am I so nervous? This is Gavin.

  I find it funny that I feel all these things because we have done this once before. Every. Single. Part. Of course, the experience is different when you are sixteen and your hormones are on a one-way track to Sex Town. The excitement and lust are tenfold because the experience is new. But as an adult, it all just feels… different.

  My heart and mind no longer ruled by my hormones. Not that I discount them because I know they lurk in the shadows. But as a woman… if Gavin and I go there. If we do this again—us—and it doesn’t work out, I won’t recover. Us trying to reignite what we once were, our history has been magnified times a thousand. Every memory is amplified and with more definition. Each new touch is layered with a newer meaning, a promise of forever. Something we thought we understood all those years ago, but couldn’t quite grasp the magnitude.

  But now… we comprehend it all. And spending forever with someone you love resonates in a whole new light.

  We get out of the car and walk to the back door off of the driveway. He walks me inside and goes to the couch, Luna jumping on his lap the second he sits down. Traitor. But in the same breath, it melts my heart that my faithful companion has taken such an easy liking to him.

  “Do you want to watch a movie?” I ask, hoping to break the pressure mounting between us. No doubt he feels it too.

  “Sure. Whatever you’d like.”

  I kick off
my shoes and settle in on the couch beside him, Luna looking at me as if I am invisible. Double traitor. Grabbing the remotes, I turn on the soundbar and Apple TV. After scrolling through my movie library, I click on Hunger Games.

  Gavin wraps his arm around me and I lean into his chest, my head resting just below his shoulder. When the weight of his head rests atop mine, I sigh at the closeness we share. It has been a long time since I have had this connection. A bond that never goes away, never breaks. Something I have longed to have again, but came up empty-handed in every search.

  For a brief time, I had thought maybe Jonas and I shared such a bond. But the more I tried with him, the more it felt forced and inappropriate. An imitation in a nice package. The only feelings I have for Jonas are strictly platonic. All I can hope is for his understanding. As my relationship with Gavin progresses, my relationship with Jonas will taper. Yes, I will always be his friend and he mine. But the boundary lines must be firmly drawn.

  Luna purrs in Gavin’s lap as the three of us cuddle on the couch. This is the closest I have felt to home in thirteen years. Warm and comfortable. As if the stars have realigned and everything is as it should be. And I pray I get to feel it every day going forward. The day Gavin left; a void took over the part of my heart reserved for him. A black hole. Life no longer functioned quite the same. The only thing that kept me going was knowing we would see each other again.

  I secluded myself from friends and family. Found comfort in nothing as I sat thoughtlessly in my room, day after day. Went to school as required, but lost all sense of focus or determination. I ate less and slept more. Never left the house unless mandatory. Was forced to bathe and put on something other than pajamas or pieces of Gavin’s clothes. Clothes which I refused to wash.

  When minutes became hours and hours became days, days turning into weeks and months, a light inside me died. A light I thought would never burn bright again. Sure, the world wasn’t quite as dim as the years became a decade and more. But now… now there is a flicker.