Page 20 of Kill Feed

“Oh, it’s you,” he states, brows lifting as recognition now hits him.

“Me?” The word slips out before I can stop it. I recover quickly, schooling my face into something neutral. “Oh. Right. You’re the guy from the coffee shop.” I add so as not to give away that I noticed who he was the instant I saw his face.

Dante’s smile flashes as easy as it’s open. “Guilty,” he says. “Though I usually make a better impression when my dog isn’t launching herself at strangers.”

I glance at Ender, who’s rolled onto her back in the grass, legs kicking and body filled with glee. Obedience nowhere to be seen. “She’s persistent.”

“She’s spoiled,” he adds, hands settling on his hips as he exhales, not that the man seems remotely winded.

“And apparently very into you. I feel a little betrayed,” he continues, and I huff a quiet sound that isn’t quite a laugh but could pass as one.

I adjust my stance.

“They say dogs have good instincts,” I claim, clearing both my throat and my thoughts as well.

“Dangerous rumor,” he replies mildly.

The air stretches. Wind threads through the trees, rippling the dam somewhere behind us. The world narrows, sound flattening around the edges like it’s decided to let us have this moment uninterrupted.

I break first, eyes dropping to the crushed flowers at my feet. The sedums are ruined with their petals torn and stems bent, but the color is brighter now. The pinks almost violent against the green.

Dante’s gaze flicks to the camera hanging against my chest.

“So,” he begins, head tilting just enough to feel intentional, “you a photographer… or is that just a hobby?” The question is casual. The attention is not.

I tighten my grip on the camera strap. “I’m a freelance photographer,” I say, failing to mention that I’m currently at the end of my third year studying photography, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“What kind?”

I hesitate for just a fraction, unexpectedly so, as I reply, “Whatever pays. Today it’s this.” I gesture vaguely at the reserve before my gaze flicks back to the murderous scene of flowers at our feet.

“Nature suits you,” Dante replies, and I look up so sharply, I almost snap my neck.

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” I claim, furrowing my brows before forcing my facial expression to smooth out.

I don’t appreciate these small comments he makes about me. First the jacket and now ‘nature suits me’. Is he... flirting with me?

His eyes flick over my face with quick and precise movements. “I know you don’t flinch when things go wrong,” he says, voice darkening before jumping up half an octave. “Like when Enter jumped you just now, you didn’t drop the camera. You hardly flinched.” A smile spreads across his face as Ender, upon hearing her name, rejoins his side.

I roll my shoulders once, the feeling flickering like a faulty wire. “You seem very observant,” is all I can say as I try to figure him out.

“Only when it matters,” he snaps back with a wink.

Hm. Usually people would've walked off at this point. Even call me rude.

“You working alone out here?” he continues, not even giving me time to form a thought about his previous statement.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he replies, like that answers something for him.

Silence settles again, thicker this time, and I’m suddenly aware of how fast my pulse is moving, how my body hasn’t quite recalibrated since he touched me earlier either.

I should end this now. But I don’t.

“So, what’s the trick?” Dante says, nodding toward the camera. “Do you look for the right angle first, or do you just feel it out?”

I consider the question longer than necessary. Not because it’s deep, but because he’s watching how I answer.