Behind His Lens(14)

Today it’s even more magical than usual because the seasons are changing; the air has been doused with a crisp chill, leaving the sweltering heat of July and August in our distant memories.

Fall in New York is a sight to behold. The city’s trees transform from dark green to bright hues of copper and gold. Then practically overnight their leaves drop to the ground in heavy piles. I love hearing the sharp crunch beneath my shoes as we tread over the fallen leaves that dot the trail like red tears.


Naomi and I wander around, cooling off from our run while trying to spy her friend. People are spread out everywhere and I assume it has to do with the temperature. I can’t imagine anyone staying indoors on a day like this. Families are having picnics and groups are spread out, playing Frisbee and baseball. I take in a cluster of middle-aged men dressed in matching raglan shirts that sport their names printed boldly on the back.

“He said he’s with a group of ten guys,” Naomi offers as she scans the crowd. We weave through a line of children jumping rope and then round a little row of pine trees. When we step to the other side, Naomi freezes in her tracks and I feel her nerves practically crackle through the air. Her brown eyes are wide and she’s staring straight ahead as if she sees a ghost. I slowly follow her gaze and lock onto the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.

“If we get to choose, I definitely want this to be my heaven,” I quip as I take in the group.

Ten guys are spread out in the clearing. Not a single one of them is wearing a shirt, and even from a distance I can see the sweat dripping down their bodies. This is not your run-of-the-mill soccer team. No, these guys look as if they’ve just stepped off the pages of Sports Illustrated. David Beckham, eat your heart out, literally.

“Please, dear God, tell me that is Bennett’s group,” I implore dreamily, pulling my gaze from the men.

Naomi still looks like a deer caught in headlights and I’m glad we’re far away. It’s clearly the right group, but if we wandered over now, she would make a complete fool of herself. I whip myself in front of her and put my hands on her shoulders, gripping them gently.

I stare into her chocolate brown eyes and shake some sense into her. “Yes. That is a group of sexy, sexy men. But you are one sexy female and could have your pick of any of them,” I declare confidently. As I speak, the glossiness behind her gaze lifts and a wicked grin forms on her lips. The little minx is back.

“Let’s go.” She winks and pulls me forward. We’re still a couple of yards off and I use the distance as an opportunity to ogle the men as much as I want. Of course, the common denominator is that they all have rippling, soccer bodies. But that’s where the similarities end. They’re clearly all from different cultures and different walks of life. One of the guys has wild, curly hair, and I find myself smiling as he does a silly victory dance after blocking a shot in the goal he’s tending.

“Bennett’s the blonde guy playing midfield,” Naomi declares as we get closer. I pull my eyes away from the curly-haired goalkeeper to find the man she’s referring to. He’s gorgeous, of course, with short blonde hair and sharp features. But that’s not what makes me clutch my hand to my throat. No, that reaction stems from the man Bennett is standing next to— Jude.

They rest there, catching their breaths and talking, without even realizing we’re approaching. They look like an erotic fantasy, standing close together like that. There’s no comparison though; Jude is hands down the sexiest man on the field. He’s got a few inches on Bennett and his dark, unruly hair yanks at the strings of my desire before I’ve even scanned down his naked torso.

My lips curl into a private smirk as I recollect my theories from yesterday. I knew he worked out and his chiseled body now confirms it. The morning sun glistens off his tanned chest and I have to clench my eyes closed in defeat.

“What’s wrong?” Naomi asks, and I nearly jump at her words.

“Jeez. Settle down.” She puts her hand on my shoulder and I can feel myself trembling against her palm beneath my tight running shirt.

“Bennett is talking to Photographer Boy,” I peep quietly as I pry my eyes open. The look on Naomi’s face is absolutely priceless.

In slow motion her mouth drops open and her head swivels to where the two guys stand.

“No. Way. No. Freaking. Way.”

“That guy is too sexy to be real.” Her head snaps back to me and I shake my head, glancing down to the ground. I stare toward the golden leaves crunching underneath my neon colored sneakers. Yes. Freaking. Way.