Page 2 of Trustfall
“Who are you trying to fool, girl? You’re amazing behind the lens, and we both know it.”
“As a hobby, maybe, but I shoot landscapes, not people.”
I’d barely caught myself because it wasn’t my coworkers per se that I didn’t want to photograph; no, it was a particular person I wouldn’t survive a snowball’s chance in hell sharing an intimate space with.
My palms were sweaty just at the thought of it.
Him standing shirtless in all his sinful glory. His tanned skin pulled taut over muscles he’d spent an abhorrent amount of time maintaining, while the baby oil used to reflect the light and contours of each dip, crease, and flex spiked my heart rate.
“What’s the difference?”
“I’d say it’s glaringly obvious,” I replied, tugging on the ends of my sleeves out of nervousness after I flattened the box for recycling.
“Scenery is scenery.” She gave me a nonchalant shrug. “Listen, I’ll run interference between takes, take care of wardrobe and props, etcetera; all you have to do is snap the photos.”
“Then you do it if it’s that simple.”
“Ari, please, I’m begging you. One of the board members is breathing down my neck like a wild bear who’s out for blood, and I can’t be known as the one who doesn’t bring this calendar to fruition for the first time in its existence. You know how popular the first responder’s calendar is every year. Please.”
And therein lay the problem.
No person with a conscience would dare refuse the job, as the funds raised went directly to the children’s wing of the hospital. My reluctance stemmed entirely from the need to steer clear of a particular firefighter, someone I had gone to great lengths to avoid whenever I could, which was also next to impossible since we shared the same workspace.
It was the sole root tugging on my moral compass.
A man whose presence was larger than life.
A man highly coveted by the female population, near and far, no thanks to his Instagram thirst traps, and yet was a proclaimed lifelong bachelor.
“Fine, I’ll do it, but you owe me.”
“Oh my God.” She sighed heavily, clutching her chest with her hands. “Thank you, Ari. Thank you. And whatever favor you need, I’m your girl.”
“Seriously, how pathetic are we right now? Sitting in our jammies, an empty bottle of wine each, leftover Halloween candy wrappers scattered around, and it’s only nine twenty on a Friday night,” I said, popping some of my favorite candy—Reese’s Pieces—into my mouth.
“Hey, this is a judgment-free zone.”
“If there were a fly on the wall, they’d think differently. We are two lonely souls, Lils, you sitting in your condo and me in a house with an empty spare bedroom.”
I hated that Lily felt she couldn’t come back to Sutton River. Since elementary school, we’d been besties with a plan that wentto hell in a handbasket when her parents up and moved without a trace.
“Cheers to FaceTime.” She raised her glass.
“Nice. I see you’re still pretending you don’t want to be roommates.”
“Ari.” She sighed, the sound heavy, and I hated seeing the weight she was carrying. I just wished she’d let me in, instead of keeping whatever was troubling her locked up so tightly. “How you’ve managed to stay under the radar is beyond me.”
“Don’t jinx it.”
“We had plans.” My voice cracked at the words, the old hurt surfacing despite my best efforts to push it down.
“I know . . . I’m sorry.”
“No, I understand. I do, promise, I just . . . I worry about you. Aside from work, you’ve isolated yourself.”
“It has to be this way.” Her words were quiet, almost too quiet. She wasn’t just saying them, she wasbelievingthem.
“But does it?” The question hung in the air between us, raw and vulnerable. “You have friends here, people who care. And you know Jaxon would move mountains for you.”
