Candid (True Images Series) (2 page)

“You aren’t going to believe this.” Her eyes were gleaming, so I wasn’t surprised that her accent was more pronounced than usual. She hadn’t lived in Guatemala since she was a toddler, and usually sounded very American, but when she was passionate about something, her perfect English often slipped. “A new guy just moved in!”

Not too impressed, I asked, “That’s not that unusual.”

Knowing Marisol, I wasn’t surprised when she gushed, “Wait till you see this guy. The whole school is talking about him. He’s gorgeous, and I mean, totally gorgeous. Plus he’s supposed to be this, like, awesome basketball player.”

“I didn’t see him at school today.”

“He didn’t come today. He just came after school for practice to meet Coach Webb and the team. He’ll be there Monday though. I can’t wait!”

“How did you see him? Doesn’t the girls’ team practice in the morning?”

“Yeah, but we were supposed to come in after school so they could get our sizes for uniforms and stuff. I swear I almost had a heart attack when he walked into the gym.”

“Mari, you’re in love with someone new almost every week.”

She laughed, knowing it was true, but said, “Yeah, but this guy is different. I bet you’ll even fall for him. Of course, Robin Gold was already throwing herself at him, and he didn’t seem to mind too much. And just wait until Jordan gets a look at him.”  Her enthusiasm deflated, Marisol sighed and said, “Well, anyway, it’ll be nice to have some new eye-candy around school, huh?”

“Sure. I can’t wait to see him,” I told her. While I didn’t usually go crazy for guys like Marisol did, I sure didn’t mind looking at them. The only guy I ever hung out with though was my friend Parker, and I wouldn’t describe him as eye candy. This could be good. “I wonder if we’ll have any classes with him.” I noticed then that Marisol wasn’t listening to me anymore and that her eyes were the size of quarters.

“You won’t
freakin
’ believe this, but he’s at the concession stand.”

Not sure why I wouldn’t believe it, I turned to look for him. The lines were still pretty long, and I couldn’t make out Mari’s gorgeous new guy in the crowd. “Sorry, I don’t see him.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” I answered honestly.

“Well, come on then.”  She grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the concession stand. She got in the back of the longest line, and I was about to complain until I saw that we were right behind a group of boys from the basketball team. They shuffled around, and I finally saw him.

Right then, I absolved Marisol of exaggerating. My heart came to a complete stop as I looked up at him. And I had to look up pretty far. Even though I was 5’8”, he was a lot taller than me – definitely over six feet. His hair was dark and carelessly styled over a face that begged to be photographed. His high cheekbones led to a square jaw and strong chin.

Despite these masculine features, however, there was a suggestion of kindness and sensitivity in his expression. Perhaps it was something about the fullness of his lips or the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled that made him look friendly and oddly approachable. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what it was that gave this impression, but I knew it was just an illusion. Everything about this guy put him way out of my league.

His t-shirt was damp, like everyone else’s, and clung to his sculpted chest in a way that drew my eyes like a magnet. As he put his phone in the pocket of his designer jeans, I caught the gleam of a watch that certainly didn’t come from the local discount store.

Why was life so unfair? I didn’t know people like this really existed. I could have appreciated him just as much if I’d seen him in a magazine ad, but no, he had to be standing right in front of me – tempting and real and impossible. And just like that, I longed to be the kind of girl who could get the attention of a guy like him.

For the next ten minutes, Marisol and I stood in the line, talking and pretending not to notice him while hoping that, by some miracle, he would notice us. I tried to convince myself that that wasn’t what I was doing, but deep down I knew it was.

Finally our line moved up and the line next to us disappeared completely. The lady in the window leaned out and demanded, “
Who’s
next?”

My growling stomach made me realize how ridiculous it was to wait in this line just because of some stupid guy who didn’t know I existed. Besides, I had to get back out on the field. I stepped towards the open window with only a couple of people beating me there. In a few minutes, I was able to order a hot dog and a bottle of water.

By the time I got my food, Marisol had disappeared, but I was in a hurry now and didn’t wait around to find her. I went around to the side of the concession stand to get some mustard.

Turning the corner, I stumbled to a stop. The new guy was there, doing battle with a squeeze bottle of sweet relish. He must have felt me watching him, because he looked over to where I was frozen next to him. He smiled and shook his head. “I hate these bottles,” he said. “You can’t ever get the stuff to come out.”

Finding my voice, I answered, “I wouldn’t know. I hate relish.”  Then I fumed at myself for saying something so stupid and wasting a chance to impress him.

He laughed though. “I may have to pass on it myself.” 

“Can I try?” I offered. He silently handed the bottle to me. I closed the lid and gave it a
hard
shake upside down, forcing the relish to move towards the lid. Handing it back, I said, “That should do it.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking it back.

I felt the sweep of his warm, slightly callused skin against mine as our fingers accidently brushed each other. Our eyes met briefly before we both turned away.

I picked up a bottle of mustard and concentrated on squeezing it out in one long, perfectly straight line across my hotdog. Just as I sat the mustard down, I heard what was being said over the loud speakers.

“And here we go, folks. Luis Ramos, #31, will kick off for Haskins. It’s a good high kick and the Webster Warriors will take possession at the 15 yard line.”

“Oh, flip!” I said, forgetting that I was trying to look cool. The third quarter had started. I glanced at my hot dog, then down at my camera and realized that I could only manage one of them at a time. With my bad luck, I would probably miss the most important play of the game if I didn’t hurry. I hated to waste perfectly good food though. I held my hot dog out to the new guy and said, “I
gotta
go. You want this?”

“Uh, well….”

I didn’t wait for him to say more before I practically tossed it at him and hurried back to the field. I got set up again just in time to catch a great shot of an amazing interception that put Haskins in possession at their own 30 yard line. Within a few plays, they made a touchdown, and I’d been lucky enough to be in the perfect position to get a great shot of the running back as he crossed the goal line with a defender in hot pursuit.

I stepped back and relaxed as Haskins kicked off again. I was just regretting the loss of my dinner when I heard someone right behind me say, “Hey, do you want your hot dog back?”

Spinning around, I saw the new guy holding my hot dog and bottle of water over the fence. I couldn’t believe he’d followed me. “Uh, yeah, thanks. I think I have time to eat it now.”

“Great. I don’t really like mustard.”

He handed it to me over the fence and I asked, “Why didn’t you just throw it away?” Then, knowing I needed to hurry and eat it, I took a bite.

“Well, I could tell you really wanted it. You must have been hungry.”

I swallowed and tried to decide if he was making fun of me. His expression showed only friendly interest, however, so I relaxed. “I was starving. Maybe I won’t faint on the sidelines now.”

He laughed and I was spellbound by the deep masculine tones that danced over me like a symphony. It was the greatest sound I’d ever heard. Realizing that I was grinning back at him and probably looking like an idiot, I took another bite.

“My name’s Lee Franklin. I just moved here a few days ago.”

After awkwardly finishing my bite, I said, “Yeah I know. I mean, I knew you just moved here, not your name.”

We looked at each other silently for a moment before he prompted, “So what’s your name?”

Wanting to kick myself, I told him, “Sienna.” Then remembering that I had a last name, I added, “Whitfield.”

“Sienna?
That’s a cool name. Are you on the school paper or yearbook staff or something?”

I glanced at my camera, staring at it for a second before I remembered what it was.
“Oh, yeah.
Both.
I don’t do much writing though. Mostly I just cover the photography.”

“It looks like a hard job. Well, I’d better let you get back to it. I didn’t mean to distract you for so long. I’ll see you on Monday though?”

“Yeah.
Definitely.”

As he left, I turned back to the field and stared at the game without watching it. It was like he’d put my attention in his back pocket and walked away with it.

Since I wasn’t one of the “pretty people” who would be privileged enough to hang out with him at school, I doubted that he would notice me again. But still, I’d had a moment with him.

Marisol was going to have a cow when I told her. I laughed out loud at the thought. Thankfully, no one was close enough to hear me. I’d embarrassed myself enough tonight.

I took the last bite of my hotdog. How had I not noticed how cold it was until now? I chugged my water and went to toss my bottle and hotdog carton over the fence into a trash can. Since I was facing the bleachers, I couldn’t help looking around for Lee. I easily found him climbing up to join a large group of students near the top. I couldn’t be sure, but as he sat down, he seemed to look around until his eyes settled on me. But he probably just felt me staring at him.

And why was I staring at him anyway? I never acted this way over a cute guy. Feeling like a dork, I hurried back to the field and got to work.

Who knew a guy could cause so many problems? Forget about that stupid gate. Somebody should have warned me about
him
.

Chapter 2

I got out of bed earlier than usual on Saturday. Even if I’d wanted to sleep in, I couldn’t have while knowing that the paper was waiting for me downstairs. The editor of the local paper had called me after the game last night, practically begging me for a few photos from the game because his photographer hadn’t shown up. After I’d emailed him a few pictures, including one of the shots of Tyson Burkett that I’d taken right before the game, he’d called me back immediately.

“
You
took these?”                       

“Yeah, I did. Why?”

“Because these are every bit as good as the ones my professional photographers submit. And this one of the quarterback is amazing. It’s going full color on the front page of the sports section.”

“Oh
my gosh
! That’s awesome. Thanks.”

“I think you have this turned around, miss. I’m thanking you. If there’s one thing you don’t screw up in this town,
it’s
sports coverage. We don’t usually pay for photos outside of our contracted staff, but I’m making an exception for these. It won’t be much, but something. Maybe we can set you up with a contract for any photographs we request in the future. Will your parents mind if you do a little free-lance photography work for the paper?”

I almost squealed into the phone I was so excited. Calming my voice, I answered, “No, my mom won’t care. I already get some commissions from friends and Foster’s Photos. You see, I work there and…”

“That’s great. Look, I have to go, but do you have a website or a blog or anything that you’d like me to put under your name in the paper? I feel bad I won’t be able to pay you much, so maybe I can make it up to you with some free publicity.”

“I do. I’ll email you the link. Which reminds me, can I post the picture of Tyson on my blog if I sell it to you?”

“I’ll tell you what - put that it’s been featured in the Haskins Gazette, and I don’t care where you post it.”

“Deal.”
I hadn’t had any problem agreeing to that. I mean, I was super proud that my picture was in the paper. I wanted the world to know.

My mom had been working in her art studio when I’d gotten home last night and her “Do Not
Disturb
Except in an Emergency” sign had been on the door. She must have been up late because there was no sign of her this morning. I was a little sad not to share this moment with her, but not sad enough to wait.

 I ran out to the end of the driveway in my
pj’s
and picked up the paper. I was so excited to see my photos in print that I pulled off the dew covered plastic bag that protected the paper and opened it right there in the driveway.

When I saw my picture of Tyson’s face under the headline of “Haskin’s Golden Boy” I nearly came unglued with excitement. Because of the lighting, he literally looked golden in the photo, and since the school colors were burgundy and gold, it couldn’t have been more perfect. And it was all possible because of my photo!

Remembering to look for my name at last, I found it under the photo.
“Picture courtesy of Sienna Whitfield.”
Then my blog address was listed next to it.

It was too awesome for words. I held the beginning of a dream in my hands, and I’d never expected it to come so soon. Excitement bubbled up inside me until I couldn’t help clutching the paper to my chest and spinning around. I slipped in the dew covered grass and fell, but it didn’t dampen my joy any.

As I got up and tried to brush off the clinging wet grass that now covered my arms and pajama pants, I wondered if anybody had seen. Then I realized I didn’t care if the whole neighborhood had seen. Soon they would all be reading their papers and seeing my photographs, and that made everything perfect.

I hurried across the slippery front lawn and pounded up the sun warmed steps to the porch. Letting the screen door slam behind me, I ran into my mom’s room and jumped on top of her. She let out a surprised cry, muffled by the blanket over her head, and tried to roll me off of her. I was bigger than she was though, so she finally gave up.