Thank you so much to everyone for giving this story a chance. Thanks for your kudos, likes, reblogs and for your comments, they mean the world to me.

I'd like to express my gratitude, as always, to my beta, Amy. I'm aware that you have had to deal with a monster of more than 100k words and English is not my mother tongue, so I value your effort even more.

Go visit my Kate's blog and enjoy her amazing art. I love the art that accompanies this chapter, with Emma and Killian practicing and that fall theme, very appropriate for the occasion.

Sara, thank you for everything.

What to expect from this chapter? While Emma decides whether or not to continue with the classes, she does her own research regarding Killian and receives from him a new motivation to keep learning

CHAPTER 3

Emma Swan. Storybrooke - November 11, 2017

The ocean was calm today, in stark contrast to her inner turmoil. The flush of humiliation still burned her cheeks and a tempest of anger swirled in Emma's gut. Damned bastard...

Maybe her reaction to his hurtful words had been too exaggerated. The armor she had raised around her heart should have prevented her from this. If she had learned something during all those years of solitude, it was to protect herself and not be affected by anything or anyone. She was a tough and strong woman, for God's sake!

It's this damn town, Emma thought bitterly. This last year had been full of discoveries: how to keep people around her, how to enjoy a steady job, and get the closest thing to a home she had ever had. All this had made her protective wall weaken, allowing people to enter inside, but in turn, making her vulnerable.

She felt like a little girl again. Old memories of humiliation, of not feeling enough, of not feeling valued, came to the surface, hitting her hard. The worst had not actually been his words, but rather his tone of disdain, as if in reality those kind of photos were an affront to him. And because she felt judged by something that was not even true.

Showing how perfect your life is... She let out a humorless laugh, while reflecting on how wrong he was. A bittersweet sensation settled in her stomach at the thought of how well the class had gone until then. She had greatly enjoyed both the initial debate and the practices that had taken place. Not to mention how impressed she was to see how talented Killian was. Too bad he screwed everything up with just a couple of out of line sentences.

A sigh of resignation slipped between her lips and, after one last look at the ocean, she turned and headed towards her apartment. She had felt so bad when she left the library that she had had to send a text to Ruby to cancel their plans for Saturday afternoon. With the urge to run away, she had even left her phone forgotten, so she rushed home, in case Regina had tried to contact her about a work-related issue.

When she got home, Emma found no messages from Regina but saw two notifications from an unknown number. She only needed a few seconds to find out who the number corresponded to, but what surprised her to the point that she almost dropped the phone was the content of the message.

She was aware that Killian had tried to apologize before, probably at the time when he had noticed her reaction to his words, but her need to run was more powerful than her curiosity to know how he would explain or justify his hurtful comments. She hadn't wanted to hear anything else, just to put as much distance as possible between him and her.

He had found a way to apologize, though. But what truly surprised Emma the most was not his apologies, but the recognition of her talent. Would he have been gossiping about her Instagram account to find out what kind of photos she actually shared? Why did he seem so interested in her not abandoning the course?

Her heart began to beat fast against her rib cage while she bit her lower lip, wondering how or if, she should respond to his messages. Should she accept his apology? Or was it more convenient if she tried to find out first the reason for his contempt for that particular social media, or rather for its content? Maybe she should thank him for his compliments? After letting out a deep exhale, she decided to send him a tentative first text to test the waters and respond according to his reply.

For the record, I don't share those kinds of photos. ES

His response was almost immediate.

I know. I do know now. KJ

Just after receiving the text, she also received a notification.

KJones has started following you.

Emma let out a snort as she rushed to open his profile, but to her disappointment, she found absolutely nothing. His followers counter was empty. And the counter of people he followed contained a solitary 1. No pictures and no descriptions. Only a simple Killian Jones. Photographer. Was it possible that he had created the account right at that moment? For her?

Did you just create your IG account? ES

Perhaps... KJ

An involuntary laugh bubbled in the back of her throat when her phone went crazy. She kept receiving notifications of likes to her photos, as if KJones was compulsively pulsing the little heart that accompanied all her pictures.

Okay, buddy, if this is your way of apologizing, you don't need to continue, I accept it. ES

That's my way of appreciating talent, love. But, If you accept my apology, does it mean that you will continue with the classes? KJ

Her cheeks flushed at Killian's new compliment. At least it seemed obvious that this guy had taken seriously the idea of making up for his previous behavior. She did not even want to consider that he really was being honest about her talent.

I'm afraid you're going to have to wait until next Saturday to find out, Jones. ES

Fair enough. I'll see you on Saturday then. KJ

Only when Emma blocked the screen, ending her brief conversation with Killian, did she realize that she was smiling. Her inner turmoil had faded, probably due to the calming effect the sea always had on her, acting as a balm, but also because of this small talk with Killian, which had allowed them to approach positions again.

She could not deny it, from the moment she met him a week ago, she felt a connection to him, and an innate curiosity to know how a British, professional photographer and seemingly unshakeable war reporter, had ended up in the States, teaching photography to beginners.

Several questions began to gather in her mind - questions she was eager to get answers to - causing a need in her to know if he had experienced more bittersweet stories like the one he told them during class. Would he have lost his hand in one of those attacks? Would that be the reason why he was working as a teacher instead of covering news in some hidden place? Why he, being a photographer, seemed to feel so much contempt for a certain social media?

Maybe it was time to start her own investigation, the one she had refused to do before starting the course. Now seemed the most appropriate time for it, though. She grabbed her laptop and, without thinking twice, typed Killian Jones Photographer looking for any news or information related to the enigmatic instructor who possessed the capacity to make her blood boil with anger, and only a few hours later, to make a warm sensation spread throughout her body.

What she found caused her breath to be trapped in her throat, while a sensation of horror, pity and even morbidness took over her, making her unable to look away from the screen while she moved the mouse in a frantic manner, her heart hammering in her chest.

The British photographer, Killian Jones, falls wounded in an attack when a missile hit the ground despite the lifting of the curfew.

A British reporter loses a hand in one of the bloodiest attacks since the war began.

The British reporter, Killian Jones, was about to suffer the same fate as his brother, who died a few years ago victim of an attack suffered while covering one of the bloodiest conflicts in modern history.

The professional photographer, Killian Jones, who was awarded a few months ago with one of the most important accolades in the world of journalism, has to retire prematurely at the height of his career after losing his hand in an attack perpetrated while he covered a war.

All the articles were dated two years ago. Two years. Her gaze wandered around the room, unable to continue reading, while an overwhelming sensation settled in the pit of her stomach as she tried to process all the information.

For some reason, she had created her own image of Killian Jones, a talented and intrepid photographer, who had experienced countless adventures while traveling the world in search of the news. The new information did not invalidate that preconceived idea, but it did add a depth to the character, making it more real in turn.

Now, instead of exotic places, Emma could only imagine cities engulfed in the dust of destruction. Instead of portraying people from other cultures, she only envisioned victims of unjust wars that only had people like Killian, those willing to risk their own lives to transmit to the world the agony of the most disadvantaged.

Emma could not even imagine the misery that would have befallen him as the victim of an attack that had taken not only his hand, but also the possibility of growth in his career, leaving him instead stuck in a town lost in Maine teaching a handful of people with a minimal interest in what he could offer them.

Perhaps that attitude of self-confidence, of determination and a certain arrogance, was nothing more than a mask that hid his suffering. Now that she thought about it, she had already glimpsed some hint of a lost look, or how he was trying to hide the prosthesis of his left arm from view.

On impulse, Emma grabbed her phone and slid her finger across the screen, looking for Killian's chat window, feeling a desire to send him a message. She resisted, though, because what was she going to tell him? I'm sorry for the loss of your hand, or I'm sorry you were stuck here when you had a future ahead... No, something told her that Killian wasn't going to take any of this well.

In an attempt to distract her mind, she focused on the gallery of images that she also found, which included several of his works as a war reporter, graphic proofs of an unjust world. During the next hour, she remained completely absorbed, unable to look away from the screen while observing the desolation captured in images, but also hope in the form of a smile, a reunion between survivors or a flower growing stoic in the middle of the chaos. All his photos had an aura of overwhelming beauty and most importantly, they served to tell the world the stories of these people who would otherwise remain forgotten.

Her admiration for Killian grew and at the same time, she felt sorry not only for Killian himself but also for these nameless people because these victims had lost one of the threads that kept them in contact with the rest of the world.

Another image caught her attention, causing her to hold her breath. It was the picture of a younger Killian, accompanied by another slightly older man, both with bright smiles while looking at the camera. The undeniable resemblance between them made Emma realize the identity of that man - Killian's deceased brother.

He also lost his brother in another attack... for some reason, that information had gone unnoticed, but now that it came back to her memory she felt her heart tighten. At least he had a brother... others haven't been so lucky. Her inner demon reminded her bitterly.

Emma swallowed in an attempt to drag back those turbulent thoughts. Instead, she set a goal: get to know Killian Jones better, learn from his talent and make his stay here not a total waste of time. She had the equipment, her camera, and the whole weekend ahead to practice and make her instructor proud of her.

There is something in this photo that seems off, but I can't identify what it is. Could you help me there? ES

Emma had been practicing all Sunday, wandering the streets of Storybrooke, camera in hand. Gradually, she became familiar with the controls of the device and had managed to lose the fear of making adjustments. However, as she was practicing, she also became more demanding with herself, being far from satisfied with the results.

For that reason, when she arrived home that afternoon, and after downloading the photos, she decided that it might be a good idea to seek advice from an expert in the field. That was the only reason. The fact that she had not been able to get the damned photographer out of her head all day had nothing to do with it. Not at all.

I gather you've been practicing. That's good. KJ

About your photo, it's an acceptable work, although it can be improved. The image is a little out of focus and maybe too exposed. KJ

That means that the picture is terrible... Emma noticed how her cheeks blushed, feeling ridiculous and a little embarrassed. She was tempted to let it go, but her fingers decided to act on their own, because, without hardly realizing it, she had sent a new message. Dammit!

I tried to modify the settings, but it's clear that I've done a terrible job in that regard. ES

It's not lousy at all, Swan, only improvable. You already have something that others may not. Now you just need practice. KJ

A complex camera? ES

Talent. KJ

Another wave of flush burnt her cheeks while a warm sensation ran through her veins. Emma wondered if she would ever get used to Killian's words of appreciation. It was something so new to her that she felt her body betray her continually. Not even Henry's constant kindness had that effect on her.

If you allow me, I'd like to give you a piece of advice. Light is our ally, use it for your benefit. Remember the two basic concepts, aperture and shutter speed. KJ

Too many technicalities... Emma tried not to let the frustration overtake her while holding her camera and trying to remember Killian's explanations from the first class. However, she barely had time to try the settings when her phone buzzed again.

I've been thinking... Since it's quite complicated to teach you something through messages, what do you think if we meet one of these days to continue practicing? Consider it my way of compensating you for my impertinence from yesterday. KJ

Emma's eyes widened, as she tried to ignore the butterflies that had begun to flutter hard in her stomach. Again, Killian stepped forward without even giving her time to type back a response.

You wouldn't have to pay for these extra classes, of course. KJ

I'm sure you have more important things to do. I don't want to be any burden. Also, what would the other students say when they knew that I'm receiving privileged treatment? ES

We could consider it our little secret, love. KJ

Her imagination began to play tricks on her, when an image of Killian winking at her popped into her head. She could almost hear the content of the text uttered with his accent and sexy tone of voice. Oh, God! She seemed to have lost the ability to function properly and she hadn't yet started typing when her phone buzzed again.

And worry not. In addition to your course, I only have another course scheduled with children. And I do collaborations for the local newspaper from time to time. Beyond that, I have plenty of free time, I assure you, Swan. KJ

Emma dropped the phone on the couch while rubbing her face with her hands, uncertain whether it was a good idea to accept his proposal or not. If Killian had already found a way to get under her skin, she was not sure if it would be convenient to spend even more time with him. Without anyone else.

Just look for a place that inspires you, and we'll get the best possible use from that camera of yours. KJ

Emma, what's wrong with you? Is not that what you wanted? To learn to make good photographs? This guy was offering the opportunity, she should take advantage of it. Fuck,she was going to do it. To hell with the consequences.

I'm free on Tuesday afternoon. See you at the docks at 5? ES

I will be there. KJ

"Damn camera!" Emma muttered, growing frustrated after several failed attempts to make the necessary adjustments to the device. She had gone a little earlier to the docks, thinking that maybe, by the time Killian arrived, she could show him some pretty decent pictures. What a fool!

Not only did she still not handle well all of these technicalities and controls but that day, a powerful wind was blowing through the docks, making it even harder to keep the camera stable. Maybe this hadn't been a good idea, after all, Emma thought, after letting out a soft groan of annoyance as she pressed, perhaps too forcefully, the delete button removing another failed attempt. Maybe she should settle for the photos taken with her cell phone, something she could handle, and leave the damn camera and all its controls to the experts.

"Whatever the affront caused by the camera, we can fix it."

Emma flinched, almost dropping the camera, surprised to hear Killian's voice. She had been so focused that she had lost track of time. She felt a flush creeping up her neck before even turning her head.

"I was just..." She gestured to the camera while offering a weak smile, feeling a bit out of place with the camera hanging from her neck while trying to tame her rebellious hair from dancing to the rhythm of the wind. Thankfully, she had decided on a ponytail before leaving the office. "...Never mind, maybe this is not the best idea after all, with all this wind." While talking, she swiped some loose strands of hair from her face and tucked them behind her ear.

"On the contrary, love, that will make the practice even more interesting, more challenging." He grinned as he arched one of his eyebrows, teasing her. It was then when Emma dared to look at him - really look at him - and take her time to study his features.

He was a very handsome guy, of that there was no doubt, dressed in all black and leather that gave him a rebellious and mysterious look. He also seemed somewhat more relaxed than in the classes, his shoulders less tense, his smile more genuine. But now that she knew part of his backstory, she couldn't help losing herself for a moment in his very blue eyes, as she wondered how much desolation they had witnessed or if his small lines of expression were due only to the passage of time or they had accentuated due to suffering.

Emma shook her head in an attempt to make these thoughts disappear. She didn't even know him. Maybe the losses he had suffered hadn't made him a tormented person as she imagined. Maybe he had managed to handle suffering well or had been able to move on. But she was good at studying people and unfortunately, she was almost certain that her intuition was correct.

Her gaze drifted for a moment to his left arm, which remained half hidden behind his back. One more bit of proof that at least in that regard, he did not seem to be taking it very well.

"Why are you doing this?" She snapped, her voice harsher than she intended, but social skills were not her forte and, although she had improved a lot over the course of this year, she was still trying to figure out how to act around other people after so many years being an almost antisocial person.

Before answering, he tilted his head, tongue peeking out to the corner of his mouth, as he observed her through his narrowed eyes, as if he were also studying her. "I already told you, Swan. You have talent, and it turns out that I have a special ability to not only detect but exploit the hidden potential."

"Do you really believe it?" She asked, not proud of the slight hint of longing in her voice.

"I do." He answered with determination, his eyes boring into hers. Her breath caught in her throat, while she remained enraptured, holding his gaze.

A strong gust of wind wobbled her hair again, causing the spell between them to finally break. Emma then turned her gaze slightly to her camera as she raised the hand holding the device. "Where do we start then?"

"We're going to work on two related topics: the posture and our surroundings." He waved his hand in front of him, as if making a gesture to encompass everything around them. "It's important to make the most of the resources we have at our disposal and, to fight against the wind, we need to get the proper position to avoid moving the camera more than necessary."

He approached her, invading her personal space, while her heart thudded in her chest. "May I...?" He asked in a gentle cadence as he pointed at the camera. In response, Emma smiled weakly while offering a timid nod.

He stood behind her then and began guiding her, muttering instructions against her ear, hot puffs of air sending goosebumps down her skin. A slight dizziness came over her, in awareness of his proximity, but she tried to ignore all those sensations dancing inside while concentrating on his explanations. And she was successful. For fifteen seconds . At some point, he placed his hand over hers to show her how she should grab the camera, causing a chill to run down her spine. The bastard did not seem to notice, since he continued to mutter instructions while guiding all her movements.

Just as she began to get used to the gentle touch of his hand against hers, a gust of wind hit them again. Killian squeezed the grip on her hand as he instinctively placed his prosthesis on her waist, in an attempt to keep her steady. She flinched involuntarily, surprised by the contact, but Killian must have had the wrong impression because he pulled away from her instantly.

"Apologies." He muttered, sounding mortified, all his bravado faded away as he stared at the toes of his boots instead of her face.

Emma frowned, trying to process what had just happened while a disturbing thought crossed her mind. Was it possible that he thought her reaction had been caused because he had touched her with his prosthesis? A wave of annoyance washed over her as she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her inner turmoil.

She did her best to stifle the hurt she felt at Killian's reaction. "Look, buddy, if you think I'm ashamed or disgusted with your prosthesis... Just stop it. I didn't expect the touch, that's all. How can you think so little about me?"

"It's not about you, Swan, it's about me." He muttered under his breath, avoiding her gaze, a twitching muscle in his jaw betraying his tension.

Emma crossed her arms over her chest and raised her brows in defiance. "Would you be ashamed if it was me who had the prosthesis?"

"What? Of course not!" His expression turned into a grimace of horror.

"So, what's the difference?" For an answer, Killian sighed, his eyes casting down to the floor, causing her to almost lose patience. This situation had caught her so unprepared that she wasn't sure how to handle it. "Listen, what happened to you... it wasn't your fault, Killian."

This time Killian did react to her words, finally raising his eyes to her. She had to suppress a gasp when she met a thunderous look. "How do you know that?" He hissed as his features hardened.

"You do your research, I do mine." Emma shrugged, holding his gaze, not letting herself be intimidated by his coldness as she was increasingly aware that his attitude was no more than a defense mechanism.

An idea passed through her mind at that moment. She acted quickly, before she regretted it, rolling up the sleeve covering her right arm, exposing skin marked with an ugly scar, a continuous reminder of her time in the foster system. Killian's eyes widened as they traveled from her wounded skin to her face, his features softened instantly, while a shadow of sympathy crossed his gaze.

"Look, let's say we both have quite the backstory, and something tells me that there are even more physical or metaphoric wounds. Maybe someday, when we get to know each other better, we'll be able to share some of our ghosts from the past, but for now, what if we just ignore what happened before?" Emma offered, the corners of her lips drawing the attempt of a faint smile.

A milliard of sensations seemed to cross his gaze while she held her breath, her stomach tightening into knots. The wind roaring in her ears did not help to calm her agitation. Finally, after what seemed like hours, he nodded subtly. "Aye, Swan, I'd like that." His lips drew a tight smile. "I'd like to get to know you better." He added as he scratched behind his ear in a gesture that she found a little too adorable, given the circumstances.

They stayed that way for a few seconds, looking at each other while the wind danced around them. The spell did not break until something caught Emma's attention, Killian's backpack on a nearby bench. "Do you have your camera there?" Her chin pointed toward the backpack. When he nodded, she continued. "Would you mind giving me a demonstration so I can imitate all your movements?" Emma suggested trusting that Killian would not detect the hidden meaning of her request.

He looked reluctant at first, but after a few seconds, he nodded again and pulled the camera out. She didn't lose detail about how he managed to handle the device both with his prosthesis acting as support, and with his hand, the one exerting the grip and making the necessary adjustments.

She had wanted to prove a point with this whole exercise. His initial hesitant movements showed that she was right as it seemed that he had barely practiced with his camera and his prosthesis. A strange sensation settled in the pit of her stomach as she felt a tug of determination. If he was willing to share all his knowledge with her, she was going to do everything possible in return to help him overcome the feeling of rejection that he seemed to experience towards his prosthesis.

As they took pictures, the initial tension between them faded away until only a small vestige remained. Emma tried to imitate all his movements while listening attentively to his explanations. After several shots, both shared the results. His photos infinitely better than hers, of course.

"How is it possible?" She mumbled, feigning annoyance. "We're almost in the same position. I've used the same settings as you, the angle is the same. How is it possible that your pictures as much better than mine? They're not even comparable."

Killian chuckled at her side. The sound was like music to her ears after the previous tense moments. "Maybe my camera is better than yours, Swan." He handed her his device. "You wanna try?"

They continued that way, taking pictures to the horizon, to the boats moored in the piers, even at some point he pointed the camera towards her. "It never hurts to practice portraits." It was all the explanation he gave her as he shrugged.

To her surprise, she did not mind in the slightest to pose for him, since the camera acted as a kind of barrier, allowing her to act naturally by not having to face the direct scrutiny of his eyes.

Time flew by, with them hardly noticing, while a soft gloom began to surround them. But the incipient arrival of darkness, far from intimidating them, only served as an excuse to continue taking pictures. "It's a challenge to take photos with little or no light, love. Let's try." She obliged, of course.

Emma would have continued longer, but as the darkness grew thicker, there was also a drastic drop in temperatures. "You're shivering, Swan. I think it's better if we call it a night." His tone of concern had the power to send a warm feeling through her body, despite the cold of the night.

An awkward silence fell over them while both seemed reluctant to leave. However, a new chill ran through her body, causing Killian to react instinctively, approaching her and rubbing her arms both with his hand and with his prosthesis in an attempt to warm her.

She searched his gaze as she felt the butterflies of her stomach flutter furiously. "Thanks, Killian, for everything." She breathed, the corners of her lips pulling into a sincere smile. A million thoughts crossed her mind, while she felt his touch burning her skin despite several layers of clothes.

His eyes went slightly wide when he seemed to realize what he was doing, but this time, far from jumping and getting away from her, he exerted a little more pressure, gently squeezing her arms and getting her heart to beat even faster. His gaze then drifted to her lips and in an instant that seemed eternal, she felt as if everything was possible, her whole body humming in anticipation.

To her disappointment, the moment passed without anything else happening. His gaze traveled one last time from her eyes to her lips until he finally pulled away a little. He blinked and took a shuddering breath before asking in a slightly rough voice, "See you on Saturday?"

Emma remembered the conversation they had had through texts a few days ago, feeling a bit amazed at how her feelings could change so drastically in just a few days. "Maybe..." She teased as she bit her lower lip in an attempt to lighten the tension, and trusting him to remember it too.

"See you on Saturday." He stated firmly, while flashing her a roguish smirk, causing a laugh to come bubbling up from her chest. "That's a beautiful sound, Swan. Don't let anything or anyone try to suppress it." After giving her one last smile and an enigmatic look, he walked away, losing himself in the darkness of the night, leaving Emma in the middle of the docks, a mixture of feelings spreading all over her body as she tried to process everything that had just happened and the meaning of his words.

"Aren't you smiling more than usual today?" The moment Emma heard Ruby's comment, her lips pressed together into a thin line, in an (failed) attempt to stop that smile.

"I've got up in a good mood, that's all." Emma answered with a dismissive wave of her hand.

And it was true. She had woken up that morning with a feeling of unusual contentment after a long night of restful sleep. The multitude of sensations that she had experienced the previous day had taken its toll on her, making her feel so tired that she had fallen fast asleep the moment her head had hit her pillow.

Her good mood had accompanied her throughout the day at the office, helping her to better face the impertinences of her boss. That warm feeling had become even more pronounced once her working day was over — she could hardly consider a job taking care of Regina's son — while enjoying the company of Henry, her favorite person, and waiting for her favorite waiter to serve her favorite meal in one of her favorite places in Storybrooke.

"Whatever you say, but I'm pretty sure that certain hottie Brit has something to do with that good mood of yours." Ruby's eyebrows danced suggestively as Henry giggled at her side. "How was your date?" She added through a wicked smile.

Before Emma could answer, the third party of the group, Sheriff Graham, made an appearance, approaching the booth they were occupying. "Did you go on a date?" He asked before even sitting in front of her.

Emma ignored the hint of disappointment that crossed his face and rolled her eyes instead. "It was not a date, we were just practicing. With the camera." She clarified anticipating any blatant thoughts that might go through her friend's mind. "And now, I'm hungry, could you...?"

"You went out with the instructor?" Graham, who didn't seem to have caught the hint, cut her off before she could divert attention. The glimpse of disappointment had disappeared from his face, to her relief. Now his expression was a mixture of amusement and surprise.

"We have quite the trope here. The teacher-student stuff is one of my favorites."

"Ruby!" Emma hissed, tilting her head in what she hoped was a subtle gesture, as she pointed to Henry at her side.

The kid did not seem scandalized though, rather the contrary. "Maybe we should look for a name for the operation. What do you think of Operation Photo-Swan?"

Seriously? She groaned inwardly.

"Yeah!" Ruby yelled while lifting her hand to Henry's for a high five.

Emma raised her eyes to the ceiling while suppressing the urge to bury her head in her hands, mortified as she thought of what kind of punishment Regina would inflict on her if she found out that her son was not only involved, but also had played an important role in these types of conversations.

Luckily, Granny came to her rescue, placing a delicious grilled cheese sandwich in front of her while scolding her granddaughter for wasting time when there was so much work to be done. Before going back behind the bar though, Granny winked at both her and Henry, making Henry's laughter grow louder as a new sensation, a mixture of mortification and some amusement, took over her. At what point had her life become a rom-com?

Emma ignored those feelings and decided to focus on her food. The delicious aroma penetrated her nostrils making her mouth water. When she was about to take a bite though, the sight of the food made her think, inexplicably, of a certain instructor. Before she could process what she was doing, she pulled out her cell phone and took a picture of the grilled cheese, sending it to Killian along with a text.

Just for the record. I don't intend to publish it on Instagram. But doesn't it look delicious? ES

She hadn't had time to leave the phone on the table when it started buzzing.

It certainly does, love. Bon Appetit. KJ

At some point, you'll have to tell me the reason for your aversion to that social media, Jones. ES

When you tell me why all your photos have a halo of melancholy. KJ

The smile she wore faltered on her lips, but she stopped whatever dark thoughts threatened to appear, unwilling to let anything ruin the moment.

Even this one? ES

No. This one is an exception. KJ

Good. ES

"Isn't it adorable? You're already in the 'sharing text messages ignoring what's around you' phase." Ruby teased, a giant smirk splitting her face.

Emma rolled her eyes, a snarky retort dying on her tongue the moment something caught her attention. The Nolans had just entered the room and were heading to the counter. A sudden interest in the couple grew inside her, when she recalled a previous conversation with Ruby, when she caught her up on the latest Storybrooke gossip.

Apparently, the couple, he, the director of the local newspaper, and she, a teacher in the town school, had returned to Storybrooke after many years living in London. But what had really caught Emma's interest was knowing that these people were Killian's best friends, the people closest to him. According to the rumors, they were the reason why Killian had ended up here, following in the footsteps of his friends.

Just then the man —David, she thought it was his name — looked in her direction. When their gazes meet, he nodded slightly in greeting, his lips drawing a warm smile.

She had already met with them on occasion. Storybrooke was a small town after all, but their encounters, though polite, had been brief, sharing only a handful of words. Now, she found herself wanting to know more about them and, above all, about the history that would explain why two people, apparently quite older than him, had such a close relationship with the photography instructor.

Damned bastard! He had gotten under her skin in such a way that now almost all her thoughts were occupied with him. Emma made a mental note to stop this escalation of feelings before it was too late. Maybe not seeing him before Saturday would help. Or maybe not.

It turned out that not seeing Killian during these days had only increased her need to keep contact with him. For that reason, when he arrived at the class on Saturday, she was already there. To her delight, the first thing he did as soon as he entered was to scan the room as if he were looking for something. The brilliant smile that appeared on his face when his gaze met hers had the ability to take her breath away, causing her to almost melt in her seat as the butterflies in her stomach fluttered hard. It seemed evident that her interest in photography classes had acquired a new and exciting dimension.

Thanks for reading. Let me know what did you all think :)

What to expect from the next chapter? We will know a bit more about the Nolans and the reason why they returned to Storybrooke. And Emma and Killian continue to get to know each other while sharing pieces of their pasts and... maybe something else.