Behind His Lens(3)

I pull away harshly, breaking our kiss, but Natasha takes it as an invitation to string kisses down my neck. Good. It means I can gaze over her head toward the dance floor. The Angel is still there, laughing with her friend and drawing me in further. Somehow the club’s spotlights only seem to cast their gentle glow around her, and I can’t help but want to bust the bulbs out so that no one else can see her.

The thought makes me clench my eyes closed as I remind myself of what reality is. I don’t want a girl like that. She doesn’t look like the fast and easy type, and I have no business thinking about her. Get it together.

Natasha’s prying finger dips between the buttons of my shirt and it hits me like a semi truck— I have a gorgeous girl ready to let me f*ck her in the back of a club and I couldn’t care less. Since when?

I’ve got to leave. I don’t want Natasha anymore and I don’t trust myself to move closer to the blonde angel. She doesn’t belong to me and it’s better if I leave now.

“I’ve leaving,” I bark, grabbing my wallet and pulling out a fifty for Natasha’s cab fare. It’s the least I can do considering I’m leaving her hanging.

“Jude! What the hell?” I shove the bill into her hand, ignoring her confused expression. Not my problem.

“I’ll see you around,” I mutter flatly over my shoulder as I push through the crowd toward the front door, never once looking back.

“Jude!” Natasha calls behind me, but I keep walking.

I’ll text Bennett later. He’s probably already found a girl anyway. He doesn’t need to know about the blonde. I plan on forgetting her myself just as soon as I get home. I usually run in the mornings, but tonight I’ll take on the city’s abandoned asphalt until I can’t f*cking move if it means I’ll go back to the way I felt thirty minutes ago— before I saw her.

As I stumble out onto the curb, I inhale a mouthful of crisp night air, trying to cleanse my senses. After a few more clarifying breaths, I realize that seeing that girl, that Angel, was probably the closest I’ll ever come to finding love at first sight. A twisting sensation pierces my gut at the thought.

Good thing I lost my heart four years ago or I’d be a fool for leaving without getting her name and number.

CHAPTER TWO

Charley

“How’s it going my sweet, hung-over friend?” I sing into the phone, knowing Naomi will kill me for calling her before her alarm. It serves her right for dragging me to the club last night. I’ll admit it was fun, but I would be much more rested for the photo shoot I’m heading to if I hadn’t agreed to go dancing with her.

She’s so convincing though. Naomi is like a little minx that can get anyone around her to do exactly as she asks. The worst part is she isn’t even obnoxious about it. I don’t know how she does it, but she’s exactly what I need. If we were living in a sitcom, she would be the sassy, gay best friend. At every moment she tries her damnedest to get me out of my shell even though I put up a tough fight most of the time.

“Uggh. Tell me you are not calling me at this hour. Or if you are, at least tell me you’re outside of my door with a Bloody Mary and a Cronut.” She sounds like she’s battling a drunken haze; I can’t help but smile.

“Yes, Naomi, because after we go clubbing I love nothing more than to wake up and stand in a three hour line for a Cronut at five am,” I quip, knowing she can keep up.

“They’re so good though,” she hums dreamily into the phone.

“I know, such a genius idea,” I relent. “I’m on my way over to MILK studios and I wanted to check in.”

“How very generous of you, my dear,” she drawls sarcastically, making me smile.

“Also, I left a pumpkin spice latte outside of your door.”

Naomi lives a few apartment buildings down from me, but there’s a Starbucks in between, so I usually grab her something if I’m planning on walking by.

She squeals, “God. You’re the best. This is why I keep you around.”

“Also for the free swag that I pass on. Don’t forget.”

“Never. Did you have fun last night?”

I mull over her question, twisting my head in both directions before I cross the street in a rapid pace. Even at six AM, Manhattan is already in full force. Taxis are weaving in and out of traffic as brave bikers attempt to traverse the busy roads.

“Actually I did, but that was probably because you literally stared daggers at anyone who approached us.”