Page 4 of A Man To Remember (Skin on Skin #3)

AUSTIN

I'M ACUTELY AWARE I only have five minutes left with the models—we agreed to finish at midnight tonight—and I already took all the shots I needed anyway, so five minutes from now, they're going to go on their merry way to…

enjoy their good looks, I guess. Which would be perfectly fine if it weren't for the pair of eyes currently drilling a hole in the back of my skull, a fact I'm also acutely aware of, as I lean to the side and snap a series I already took before, because if keeping them until the last second means I won't have to look at Jesse's stupid face for a little bit longer, that's exactly what I'm going to do.

I've got no idea why he's here, anyway. Again. Life must be boring in Doucheland.

I drop to my knees and take two shots from that angle and do my best not to let my head visibly drop when the timer on my laptop goes off, indicating their job is done.

"Time flies, huh?" I say as if I hadn't been tracking seconds for the past half hour since Jesse not-so-subtly entered. I haul myself to my feet. "Great job, guys." I take my sweet time to walk over and shake both their hands, as this is our last day.

"Thanks, man," Marco says, already pulling on his t-shirt, because unlike a certain someone, he actually has a life. "Last night's proofs were a-mah-zing. "

I cringe inwardly. They really weren't. Today's, on the other hand…well, they do seem promising, from the few I reviewed during the break.

As the guys continue to get dressed, I can't justify looming over them any longer.

Reluctantly, I turn around and march to my laptop, and equally reluctantly acknowledge the blond head stationed on one of the sofas by the door.

"'Sup," I offer. God, I hope he isn't planning on making it his permanent residence for the rest of my stay. I'd rather find another venue.

I busy myself with computer work, but my bliss doesn't last more than two minutes, and as soon as the door closes behind my models, the sound of Jesse's footsteps slices through the pleasant silence.

In an effort to put off having to interact with him as long as I can, I go through my shots. He'll butt in soon enough.

When he still doesn't a couple of minutes later, his mere presence behind me becomes enough to get on my nerves. God, he's annoying.

I take a deep breath, plaster on a neutral expression and turn to face him. I raise a questioning brow, but he doesn't bother explaining his presence, staring back at me with the intense green of his eyes. "May I help you?" I finally ask.

He nods. "I'll do it."

I've got no clue what the it stands for, but unless it's leave , I'm not sure I'm interested. "Do what?"

He stares at me for a few sluggish seconds. And then, with a single word he manages to turn my so-far pleasant day into a waking nightmare. "Pose."

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

I can physically feel my eyes grow large, all the while hoping my ears are deceiving me, because fuck right off.

I only asked because I knew he'd say no.

And also because he looked a bit out of his element already, and the part of me I'm not proud of wanted to fuck with him. For fuck's sake. "Are you sure?"

Please say no. Please say no.

But to my horror, he doesn't look even remotely flustered this time around as he shrugs nonchalantly. "Yeah. I mean… Why the hell not?"

Because.

"What changed your mind?" I press, silently hoping I can somehow change it again. "You were pretty adamant last night."

Jesse pushes his hands into the pockets of his oversized hoodie and looks at a distant spot on the floor. He opens and closes his mouth twice before sighing like he's just lost a chess tournament he's been practicing for for years.

Finally, he says, "I couldn't sleep last night.

I was thinking…" He drops his head and looks down to where his foot is currently digging into the floor like we're on a beach.

"You've got this whole…thing going. This career that's just a little bit out there.

A little bit unorthodox. Jamie's an architect.

My sister's a vet. And everyone I know from, you know, back then—well, the few people I still keep in touch with—they all have…

something. Something cool or weird or new and I… "

The pause he takes is a long one, long enough to justify me interjecting or urging him or otherwise breaking the silence.

I let him be silent until he's ready. He takes a sharp breath and his head snaps up until he looks me straight in the eye.

"I'm just unremarkable, you know? I'm here, and it's fine and comfortable and good for me, I know that, but…

I've never done anything different . Or fun.

Or important." He takes another pause and lets out a humorless chuckle.

"Not that this would be important, but at least it would be…

something. I don't know. I don't even know what I'm saying. It's stupid."

Another silence follows, a final one, and as I process his ramble I can't help but notice his eyes are just a bit less green now, like a switch has been flipped and his inner light dimmed.

I've spent the past ten years dreaming of dimming it myself. Of making him suffer. But maybe that's exactly what he's been doing to himself all along.

And although his words may not have made much sense, I think I know what he means.

I'm not happy about it, but staring at him now, in perfect silence, I no longer see a man with his brow furrowed and his turbulent past on his shoulders.

I see a boy. The boy that broke me. Maybe in some way he's a teenager again.

Maybe he's trying to do it right this time around.

Maybe it's me who needs to let go.

And despite my better judgment, despite every logical corner of my mind screaming at me to tell him boo hoo, sucks to be you , there's this strange, unexplainable rush of peace flooding my veins and making me run my mouth as I say, "I don't think it's stupid."

Jesse smiles, a soft smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "It's not very smart, that's for sure."

I just nod, because there's nothing left to say. I'm willing to humor him. To help him out even, if that's what he really needs. But his confidant, I won't be. "Well, then. I've got some time."

Jesse's eyes grow larger like he's just noticed me, despite having stared at me this whole time. "Now?"

I shrug. "You've got better places to be?" Not the best choice of words, all things considered, but it's the best I've got.

Jesse looks to the side and licks his bottom lip, like he's running a mental debate in the background.

"Okay. I just…" He takes his hands out of his pockets and lifts them to his sides, awkwardly.

"I've never done this. Well, obviously. What do I…

Should I…" He huffs, as if words are some type of elusive treasure he can't quite get to. "What do I wear?"

My throat tingles as I try not to chuckle. Laughing at him right now would somehow seem cruel. "Well, I wasn't expecting—" I cut myself off and search for a kinder way to put it. "I didn't know you'd show up tonight so I didn't prepare anything, so… Whatever you're comfortable with is fine."

Jesse nods and hesitates for a moment before reaching for the hem of his hoodie and pulling it up and off his body. The red t-shirt he's wearing underneath rides up as he does, revealing the bottom part of his stomach. Then, he pulls it down.

I quickly avert my gaze and turn around to look at my computer, partly to set things up, and partly to give him some space.

Once I've got everything set and the rustling behind me stops, I turn my attention to Jesse again.

Turns out what he's comfortable with is shirtless, and, for some reason, barefoot, with his jeans still on.

Not what I usually go with, but it doesn't matter.

It's not like the photos are going anywhere except Jesse's hard drive.

"Alright," I say, forcing professional enthusiasm into my voice.

The sooner we get this shit done, the better.

"You can stand over there." I point my chin toward the well-lit spot in front of a graphite backdrop.

As he walks over there, I consider switching it to something more lively, but change my mind once he spins around to face me.

This one's not bad, actually. It contrasts nicely with his hair.

It's not until he stops moving that I notice the quite prominent set of abs lining his stomach.

Very nice. They'll cast just the perfect shadows.

I walk to my left and pull one of my lamps down a few inches, so that the shadows are even more prominent. Tilting my head to the side, I take him in piece by piece.

The legs of his jeans are a little too long for my liking, but otherwise, they hug his frame quite nicely. "You can pop that button open," I mutter, before I remind myself who I'm dealing with. "I mean, if you want."

He hesitates for a moment, but then does just that.

He even pulls down his zipper halfway unprompted.

Okay. We're getting somewhere. Then, I look up.

"Nice tats," I point out before I can think better of it.

I wasn't planning on complimenting him, but it's the truth.

They are quite nice, especially now that I'm looking at them on the screen of my camera.

Jesse lets out excess air through his nose, lifts his left hand and runs it over his left pec, where a roaring mouth of a dragon pokes out of some bushes. "Oh," he says like he forgot it was there. "Yeah, no. Mistakes of youth and all that."

My finger pushes the button on my camera, muscle memory doing its job, bathing Jesse in a temporary flash of bright light, because I'm the one with the eye, and when I say they're nice, they are. Not that I feel the need to share that.

"Oh," he repeats, squinting. "I didn't know… I wasn't ready."

He drops his head timidly and runs his palm over the back of his neck.

I snag another shot. "Let me be the judge of that."