Page 8 of Aperture

I press the key fob in my hand and my car, which is 100 yards away, beeps twice, taunting me as if to say, “I’m right here, Loser.”

“Yep. It’s right over there.” I laugh. My idiocy can’t recover at this point so I may as well steer into the skid.

I expect him to write me off as a ditzy blonde, but he surprises me when he says, “You were just in this store, right?”

I hold up my bag with the shop's logo and shake it lightly. “Yes, I was.”

“So, do you know a thing or two about photography?” His face looks expectant.

“Or two,” I tease. “I’m a photographer.”

“Wow. This is such a cool coincidence. Would you be willing to help me pick out a camera? If you have a minute, I mean. I’m new to this and want to take it up as a hobby.”

I look at the time on my phone and think I should get home and text Theo, but one look in the hopeful eyes of this handsome stranger has me changing my mind.

“Sure, I can help you out,” I shrug. With that, I follow him back into the store.

Chapter 6

I’m meeting Gwen for coffee this morning at our favorite kitschy coffeehouse. I order our drinks and sit down in front of the window facing the street. The coffee shop is across the street from the photography store, and I find myself thinking about the gorgeous mystery man I met there last evening.

After I followed him in, I asked him a few questions about his interests and what kind of photography he wanted to do, and we ended up deciding on a Panasonic Lumix G85 Digital Camera. It should do everything he needs and won't break the bank for something he just wants to pursue as a hobby.

I watched with fascination as he approached his new hobby with enthusiasm. He radiated confidence and intelligence. I found myself unable to stop studying his face, wanting to know more about what makes a man like him tick.

I didn’t even realize until after I left, I never gave him my name or got his. Instead, I wished him luck and left him at the register as he purchased his camera. Up until that point, we had been too busy talking about photography, a subject I can lose myself in for hours.

Now I find myself distracted, all my thoughts sifting down to the photo hobbyist and how he materialized from thin air.

Gwen bustles by me and takes her seat. “What’s going on with you?” she asks. “You’re daydreaming again.”

I lean forward with my elbow on the table and place my chin on the palm of my hand and sigh. “Just thinking about meeting a sexy, mysterious stranger.”

“Aren’t we all?” she deadpans.

“I think I actually met one yesterday,” I say with a rare coyness.

“What? Where? When? Why am I just hearing about this?”

“It was nothing. I almost literally ran into him outside of Kathy’s shop. He asked me to help him look at cameras.”

“So, let me get this straight. You have two guys on the hook, and I can’t meet anyone in this God-forsaken town?” Gwen pouts, but it’s exaggerated so I know she’s only bluffing her jealousy.

“I hardly have two ‘on the hook’.” I correct her, making air quotes. “I met one tall, handsome stranger, whose name I don’t even know, and I sent a text to Theo last night, which is still on delivered. I’d hardly label this situation as a success.”

“I like your odds, though,” she says as she lifts her coffee to do ‘cheers’ with me. I clink her cup with my own just as I feel that uncomfortable shiver run through me. My senses are on full alert just like last night.

I look around for the source of the uncomfortable feeling, completely honing in on my surroundings and tuning everything else out. I see a few couples having coffee and chatting and a few people waiting in line. There is nothing sinister about the scene. Then the tinkle of the bell over the door to the coffeehouse draws my attention.

“I can’t believe it,” I say. Gwen swings her head over my right shoulder to see what I’m talking about.

“Well, that’s new,” she says with a smile.

Standing not even six feet away is my photography shop guy. He is standing by the cashier with his hands in his pockets, looking gorgeous. He must feel me staring because he looks over and smiles, causing my heart rate to skyrocket. He orders his drink, which appears to be a black coffee, judging by the expediency with which he’s served, then he thanks the barista, grabs it, and walks over to us, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Hi, Millie,” he says.

“Um, hi,” I reply. I’m momentarily caught off guard. “Did I give you my name? I don’t remember that.”