A/N: Thanks for the reviews!
Enjoy this next chapter!
I had been going through my computer, getting ready to go back to teaching. I was clearing files and looking for old lessons.
My heart started to accelerate as I found an old story that I had started writing after college. It was a romance novel, and I remember being really excited about it. Over time life became busy, between planning a wedding and buying a house. I never finished it.
I found myself reading it. I forgot how… good it was. I wasn't one to ever compliment myself, but even I had to admit I had a talent for storytelling. I spent hours reading it, invested in the characters, and the plot, but as I got to where I left off, I felt inspired.
I missed writing. I craved writing. I forgot how therapeutic it was. Getting lost in a world of fantasy and forgetting about real problems was so healing.
I found myself typing, adding on to a story I never thought I was going to finish. I had intended it for it to go one way, but after life's most recent events, my story went in a completely different direction. I was thinking about how much my life had changed. How life didn't always go the way you expected it to go, and it wasn't always fair. I had intended for the book to have a happy ending, but that wasn't always life.
I was typing and typing and typing. Before I knew it, it was midnight, and my vision was starting cross. I saved my work and shut off my laptop. What was I going to do now? Was I going to finish it? Or was that just some needed therapy?
I went upstairs to my bed, as the inspiration still flowed through my veins. I dreamt of the story and ways that I should take it. The characters were becoming familiar to me.
As I drifted into sleep, their faces started to develop in my mind. It was me and Stefan…
I walked into the club, not dressed for a night out at all. I wore a pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt. My hair was long and straight, and I just wore mascara. I spotted Damon pouring drinks, and I was thankful he was working tonight.
I practically skipped to the bar, and hopped up on to the stool, tucking my legs underneath me. "So," I caught his attention. "I have a proposition for you." I leaned over the bar.
"What's that?" He asked, shaking up a martini.
"I need new headshots," I stole an olive from behind the counter.
"For what? Modeling?" He snorted.
"No dick," I grimaced. "I used to want to be a writer. My old head shots look like I'm twelve. I haven't had new ones since I was 20 years old."
"What do you want from me? To burn them?" He teased.
"No, I want you to take new ones," I asked.
"That's not really my kind of photography," he poured the martini in a glass, and tossed a few olives on a toothpick and put it in the drink.
"Oh, come on, please?" I pouted.
"Fine, but you have to do something for me," he said before walking a few feet to hand a lady her drink.
"Like what?" I asked hesitantly as he returned.
"I have a photo submission coming up," his hands rested on the counter leaning into me. "Best photo gets submitted to a very popular magazine."
"Ok…" I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion.
"I want you to be my subject," he smirked.
"This isn't like a nude shoot, right?"
"No," he chuckled. "Although I'll keep you in mind for that too."
"Never going to happen," I grimaced. "But… I'll be your subject for the other one. But I have to warn you, I am not a model. I lack coordination and have never been good at the whole photogenic thing, so it's at your own risk."
"You'll do fine," he grabbed his cellphone out of his pocket. "Put your number in and I'll send you details tomorrow."
Damon had sent me some bizarre requests, but I decided to trust he knew what he was doing. I had multiple bags as I knocked on his apartment door.
After a few seconds he pulled open the door. He was talking on the phone and gestured for me to come in. He grabbed one of my bags and set them down on a table. He covered the mouthpiece with his hand, "You can get changed in there," he pointed to a room. "We will start with your headshots."
I went into the room and was intrigued by the sheer chaos. The rest of his apartment was simple, and clean. This room was an organized mess. There was a white back drop against the wall, his camera set up on a tripod. Big umbrella lights. TV monitors, different stools, and chairs. Artwork hanging on the walls. I set my bag down and changed my top, into something simple and professional. I checked my hair and makeup in the mirror making minor adjustments as I waited for him.
Not too much longer and he walked into the room, "sorry about that."
"No problem," I shrugged.
He moved to grab a stool and put it in the center of the room. "You can sit there. I need to do some test shots to get the lighting right. You don't have to smile or anything."
I sat down in the chair while he took a picture, a flash of light and a loud clicking noise filled the room. He adjusted the settings on his camera. "It's been a while since I've worked indoors," he took another test shot.
"You paint?" I noticed the half-painted canvases laying against the wall.
"When I have time," his eyes were focused on the camera. He moved the umbrella lights, angling them a degree away from me. He snapped another photo. "Ok I think I got it."
I sat up straight as he directed me what to do.
"Tilt your chin up," he said behind the camera. "Look right into the camera, and smile."
He snapped several pictures before having me change angles. Overall, he took probably 30 or 40 pictures. My cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so long.
"Alright why don't you come take a look. If you really like them, we can be done with this part."
I walked over to him, and he moved to his computer monitor which was hooked up to his camera. He slowly flipped through the pictures.
I was never a fan of pictures of myself, but I had to admit he knew how to make me look halfway decent. "I like them," I smiled. "Thanks for doing this."
"Don't thank me yet," he stood up with a smile. "It's my turn."
"This is not a fair trade," I growled as we walked into the woods. It was chilly, I was in a thin black dress. I had enough black make up around my eyes to pass as a prostitute. And it was supposed to rain at some point.
"You agreed to be my subject," he reminded me, as he carried his equipment.
He stopped when he was happy with the location. He took his things out of his bags and started setting up for the shoot.
"Take off your shoes," he ordered. "I want you barefoot."
"I could get a splinter," I crossed my arms.
"I'll pull it out if that's the case sweetheart," He took some quick snaps and quickly adjusted the settings on his camera. "Perfect," he said to himself.
I took off my shoes reluctantly. He had asked me to bring a long black dress. Something ethereal. I had nothing like that, but luckily Caroline came to my rescue. It was silky and simple. It was a cross between sexy and elegant.
"Come here," he waved his hand for me to come to him.
I tip toed over the sticks and rocks, as he bent down to grab a water bottle. He unscrewed the top as I waited for him to say something. He flipped the bottle over on top of my head, and all the water poured down my curled hair, and whorish make up that took me a long time to do.
I gasped, "What the hell? Why would you do that?"
"It's for the shoot," he picked up another water bottle, and dumped another one on me.
"Would you stop?" I yelled. "You're going to give me hypothermia."
"Stop whining baby," he ran his thumbs underneath, smearing the dark make up down my cheeks. "I'm going for dark and mysterious, with a little bit of danger and sexiness, with a hint of innocence. Think you can handle that?"
"I'm not a model Damon," I looked at him, as he continued smearing the makeup down my face.
"You look like one," He bent down picking up some dirt, and rubbing his hands together. He smeared the dirt down my arms. "You'll do just fine."
"Ugh!" I scowled. "I should have never agreed to this."
He swiped some dirt across my chest, and then wiped his hands off on his jeans. "It's go time."
He directed me where to stand and then he started clicking away. "Chin way up," he said. "And gently close your eyes." He snapped more photos moving around at different angles looking like a cat hunting its prey. "Alright lean against that tree and look at me."
He snapped a few more pictures and I was surprised at how natural this felt. He had me walk and had me looking in every direction, occasionally looking back at him. He had me lay across a fallen tree.
"Now lay down in the dirt," he ordered.
I rolled my eyes but obeyed. The faster I got what he wanted, the quicker we'd be done. He stood above me, one leg on each side of me. His camera pointed down snapping photos as I moved my head in different angles. I ran my hand through my wet and dirty hair, closing my eyes. I was feeling empowered. I had no clue how to model, but the fact that he was silently taking pictures as I moved how I wanted to, was probably a good sign.
I suddenly felt raindrops on my face, and I squinted looking up.
"Don't move," he said. "You're just getting into it."
I continued moving at different angles as the sprinkles of water turned into something heavier and more frequent.
He pulled me to stand up. "There's just one more set of images I want to get."
I followed him back to the area we started in. He had a little tripod set up and a tarp covering his camera from the water. "Go over there," he pointed between two trees.
I practically skipped to where he wanted me, so glad to be almost done. I felt dirty, wet and cold. I just couldn't wait for a hot shower.
He stood behind the camera pressing a couple buttons before removing his shirt.
"Woah," I said for more than one reason. For one I was surprised by the sudden removal of clothing, unsure of why he had done that. And two… He had the best body I had ever seen. A big defined chest, followed by a solid six pack, and those two indents leading to that spot beneath his low hung jeans.
He approached me, his wet hair from the rain dripping down his face. It was then that I realized how beautiful he was. He may have a repulsive personality, but his face was sculpted by God himself. And his body was worthy of having a whole book written about it.
He grabbed my dirty hands and put them on his chest, and slowly slid them down, creating mud marks down his body. He rubbed more along his arms and whipped some along his cheek.
"What's this for?" I asked.
"Camera is on a timer," His hand lightly cupped under my chin tilting my face towards the camera. He leaned down, his nose lightly touching my cheek. "It takes a picture every ten seconds." He said against my skin.
I inhaled at the closeness. I should be bothered by this. My skin should be crawling, and I should hate the feel of him pressed against me. But instead, my heart was thumping erratically, and my hands were shaking.
"Keep moving," he told me. "The best pictures are the candid ones."
I moved my head up looking at the sky, as the heavy rain came down on us. The clouds were dark, and the wind was starting to pick up making me shiver. His head dipped down into my neck and his lips were resting in the crook of my neck and shoulder. He didn't kiss me or anything, but something about it was so intimate.
After a few seconds, he spun me around and grabbed my waist. His head was buried in the back of my wet hair. My hands rested over his, as I turned my head and closed my eyes. We were utterly silent, but the slow movements were like a dance. We were both aware of the task at hand, and we moved together so well.
He pulled away for second putting his body in front of mine, as he faced the camera. He reached behind himself and grabbed my hands, putting them against his chest. I gripped his chest and slowly moved my hands down, creating marks along the way. I angled my hands to create a more appealing image. I felt him shutter lightly as my hands descended down his rippled stomach.
He turned to face me, "one more." He cupped my face, his hips pressed hard against mine. It was the first picture where we were looking at each other. It was easy before to let myself go, when I could just feel and not look into those icy blue eyes. Now I felt nervous.
"Relax," he breathed. "I'm not actually going to kiss you." He leaned in, our lips only centimeters apart. His eyes bore into mine as I looked up at him through all the rain and the dirt. My one hand was clasped around his wrist, the other was pressed up against his chest. I shifted closer involuntarily.
His eyes flashed to my lips, as I felt his warm breath against my lips. The world around me felt frozen. All I could hear was my erratic heart, and his heavy unsteady breathing. I wanted to move closer, but everything was screaming at me that it was wrong. I shouldn't feel this pull. I shouldn't feel anything in the arms of my dead husbands brother.
A crack of thunder separated us quickly.
"Shoot," he looked up at the sky. "We have to get out of here." He started gathering his things, as I tried calming my racing heart. I had no idea what just happened, but it scared me so bad. Did he feel it to? Was it just the magic of the photo shoot?
What was happening to me?
A/N: What'd you think? Please leave a review and let me know!