Page 34 of Love at First Sighting

El

Carter still hasn’t noticed my bag is…noticeably plump.

He parks along the sidewalk and I hop out quickly. The fall evening air is crisp and the sky is a deep midnight blue, with a handful of glittering stars tossed like they’re on a sheet of felt. I requested he drive us up into the hills, near a park overlooking the Hollywood sign.

It’s quiet up here and we feel miles away from the bustling city life below.

I take a seat on the grass and set my bag beside me. Carter follows suit and leans back on his elbows. The bottom of his T-shirt rides up his waist, revealing the thin trim of his boxer briefs. I push him onto his back and kiss him.

“I have gum in my mouth,” Carter mumbles against my lips.

“So don’t use your tongue.” I laugh.

“What’s the fun in that?” he groans. I search my bag for a small piece of paper he can discard the gum into. I sink onto him as we both press into the damp grass. Carter moves his hands to my waist, then lower, where he slides them into my back pockets.

A night like this with Carter has all the magic of falling for someone. It’s the rush of sneaking out past curfew, the invigorating adrenaline of breaking the rules, and I want to take snapshots of each second because I never want to forget it. And I don’t want it to end.

He finishes with a couple of tiny kisses on my lips and the corners of my mouth before gazing up at me and smiling.

“I have something for you,” I say, crawling off him. I scurry over to my bag and shield it with my body to avoid ruining the surprise. I know I could wait for his birthday or Christmas or something, but I want him to have this now.

“All right. Is it another handcuff lesson?”

“Hey, not in public. Maybe later.”

Carter bites his lip and looks away, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Close your eyes,” I order.

He closes his eyes hesitantly. As I pull the camera box out, I feel so much joy.

From the moment Carter started talking about traveling the world, it’s been hooked in my brain so deep.

I know logic tells us we’ve got a lot to work out before then—a mystery to solve, money to make—but I want to do what I can to make it as easy as possible for us to run away together.

I want to grab his hand, say let’s go , and never look back.

“Oof.” He laughs as I set the box down in his hands. “Can I open my eyes now?”

“Yes.”

Carter opens one eye at a time and looks down at the box.

He sucks in a breath like he’s been hit in the stomach.

I’m sure the camera store guy thought I was an absolute weirdo, running back in, a bit out of breath.

I threw down my credit card and demanded the same DSLR Carter was eyeing minutes before.

I rushed through the spiel—yes, yes, I want the protection plan—and managed to return to the valet just as they brought around Carter’s boat of a car. I absolutely nailed it.

“Jesus, El…I can’t. I can’t accept this,” he gasps.

For a second, I’m scared I’ve done too much, or I’ve reverted back to the person who speaks in material items, who doesn’t quite get it’s the thought that counts . Carter stares back at me with big, glistening eyes that are equal parts confused and enamored.

“Declined,” I tell him. “It’s yours. There’s also a memory card in there.”

He lets out a nervous laugh. “What are you doing buying me a camera this expensive?”

I cup the sides of his face. “Trust me, I’m not hurting for cash. And you’re too talented to be using an old camera. You could do so much more with that skill if you had the right tools.”

Then it all starts spilling out.

“I don’t know why this happens, but when I’m around you? I see a life that excites me for the first time in so long. One where I can do what I want, be who I want. I want both of us to have the kind of lives that are great for both of us. Something real. Something happy.”

When our eyes meet, I can envision so much.

Nights bundled up in his T-shirts and sweatshirts, watching movies, giggling under the covers together.

I’d trade all the sponsorships in the world for someone who is happy making me happy.

I picture Carter and me in London or Paris or Fiji, where I’m staring down the lens of the camera, and he knows my smile is because of him.

“Thank you,” he finally stammers out. “Really. This is the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in a long time.”

The thought alone breaks my heart. There’s no one who deserves love and care as much as Carter does. I can’t imagine how many dull birthdays and holidays live in his past. Drab, colorless, boring. I want to fill his life with all the color I can.

“You deserve so much more than you give yourself credit for, Agent Carter.”

“Could I…could I at least make it up to you somehow?”

“Financially?” I laugh. “You don’t need to.”

“Maybe,” he teases, “but I had some other ideas.”

Carter opens the camera box and slides it out, unwrapping the foam and plastic. Once it’s powered up, he fiddles with the settings like a pro and holds it up to his eye.

“Smile,” he demands.

A giggle erupts from inside me. I’m so happy, so giddy, it feels illegal. Maybe we do need those handcuffs after all. “Oh come on.”

“I was serious, Ariel.” The flash goes off. I know my eyes are closed.

“Okay, fine. I can put you to work.” I straighten up and fluff my hair with a wry smile. This is a go-to pose, but this time, it feels uncomfortable. Rehearsed.

“No, no, no,” Carter orders. “I want to take pictures of you. El. Not the El everyone gets to see online. The El I see. If I get to make moves to get the life I want, so do you. What do you want?”

People have asked me the question so many times, but they’ve all had an answer in mind before I did. I want to win this pageant. I want to help you sell this product. I want to collab. Carter is asking me what’ll make me happiest.

I expect it to be a harder answer, but he makes it so easy to say without fear: “I want to be myself. And I want that to be good enough.”

“So, do I hear a new brand?” he jokes.

“Maybe.”

“What does that look like?”

I lean back with my elbows on the grass.

“I hope it looks like me and you galivanting around the globe together. Awkward Instagram stories of us getting into trouble. Me taking pictures of random funny things I see throughout the day without a care in the world. People liking me for the things I know I am but don’t feel brave enough to show—”

The camera flashes again.

“Hey!”

“It’s a candid.”

“Okay, but is it ugly?”

“No,” he persists, turning the camera screen to me. “You’re beautiful.”

Months ago, I would have clocked the crinkles by my eyes or the strand of hair that’s stuck in my lip gloss.

I’d already be mentally photoshopping grass stains out of my jeans.

But when I look at this, I hardly see any of it.

I spent years trying to be beautiful, picture perfect, and sanitized.

Here, I look wild, unrefined, casual—and I realize I feel the most beautiful when I’m actually happy.

I take the camera from Carter, set the timer, and push him onto the ground under me. I slide between his legs and press his hands into the grass above his head.

I lean in, crushing my lips to his, just in time for the camera to flash and catch us in the act.