Crush - Kelsie Rae Page 0,31

mouse in front of me and wake up the dark screen on my desktop.

“So, uh…we can do all black and white with a classic feel.” I click on a black and white image that showcases a sleeping baby swaddled in a soft gray blanket. “Or we can do something a little more bright and cheerful. We can use yellow, pink, and green backgrounds.” Pulling up another picture, a little girl stares back at us. She’s probably close to a year old and is sitting up with a hot pink tutu around her waist and the sweetest, biggest grin I’ve ever seen. Add a bright orange background, and the little girl pops. When he doesn’t say anything, I ramble, “Or we could do themed poses for every month based on the holiday. So, like an Easter Bunny in April, stars and stripes for July, a pumpkin or a cute baby ghost for October. You get the idea.” I click again and show him a few examples. “We could do all silly faces….” Click. “Or maybe even like a bloopers-themed calendar. So, we would still do the themed shots, but we’ll use the ones where they spit up, or where they have a sour expression. That kind of thing. Does that make sense?”

Click.

Click.

Click.

And do I sound like a total idiot right now?

I feel like I’ve been talking to myself during this entire pitch.

Gaining the courage to glance over at him, I find his mesmerizing brown eyes staring back at me instead of analyzing the pictures I’d been pulling up on my computer.

“Ben?”

He blinks. “Yeah. Sorry. Uh…can you repeat that?”

With a breath of laughter, I give him my spiel a second time while praying he can’t see the color in my cheeks as he leans forward to take a closer look at the images. The heat of his arm brands mine as they rest beside each other, but I don’t pull away. I’m too frozen to move a muscle while hating how much I love our close proximity.

Sighing, a very sheepish Ben turns back to me and gives a helpless shrug. “I have no idea, Marce. They all look really good to me. You’re quite talented.”

“I don’t know about that….”

“I do. These are all amazing. And just hearing you talk about photography…I can practically feel your passion.”

Blushing, I drop my hands to my lap and wring them together like a wet dishrag. “Uh…thanks.” I’ve always struggled to accept compliments in general, but when it’s delivered by the guy I totally have a crush on, and he’s already rejected me? I’m speechless.

“You’re welcome,” he rumbles, throwing me a bone by dropping the subject. “What would you recommend, Marce?”

“I don’t think you could go wrong with any of them,” I hedge.

“Well, you’d be the one behind the camera, so I’m going to have to agree. I think they’d all be perfect.”

Aaand, my face is back on fire. There’s no way he can’t see it, especially when I can feel his eyes on me, taking in every inch of my face in all its red glory.

“I have a confession to make,” he admits when I remain quiet.

“And what’s that?”

“I’ve never seen your work before today.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that.

“Could you show me a few more of your favorite shots?”

Confused, I wiggle the mouse back and forth and turn back toward the screen, searching for a few more options he might be interested in. “You mean…of babies?”

“No. I kind of want to see the ones you’ve taken for you. Not for other people.”

I open my mouth before snapping it closed. I’m speechless.

“I want to see the pictures you wanted to capture for yourself,” he clarifies. “Is that a weird request?”

Cheeks pinching from withholding my giant grin, I sneak a quick peek at him before staring back at the screen in front of us, although I couldn’t for the life of me even tell you what’s shining back at me.

“Umm…no, not at all,” I answer, though I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince.

Him.

Or me.

Yes. Yes, it’s a weird request. Not because they’re private or anything, but because no one has ever been interested enough in me to want to see the world through my eyes. That’s what my pictures are. They’re art. They’re little snippets I’ve stolen through the lens of a camera that document the way I see the world.

And that’s an intimate thing.

“You don’t have to show me,” Ben adds, snapping me out of my trance.

“No,” I rush out. “I want to. Let me just….”