One True Thing (8 page)

guy to take his clothes off. Not sure about the logic

there, since the girls didn’t do a damn thing for

me… but there was logic. I hoped.

I looked up when the line moved again,

hoping I was at least almost to the register. I

needed the caffeine like nothing else. But instead

of seeing the counter like I was hoping, I saw a

bleached blond head on a petite guy,
right there in

front of me!
Black tank top, plaid shorts, and flip-

flops. My pulse raced.
It’s him.

It was the guy, that one from the street all

those weeks ago. I hadn’t been able to forget him.

When he’d stumbled and I touched him, God, the

shock had zapped me hard. I’d stared, barely able

to squeeze out a few little words, then chickened

out and walked away. Of course, with that fine

performance, I felt dumb getting so excited. After

all, it was just a moment, nothing more. But that

moment had felt special.
He’d
felt special. I lifted

my hand, ready to touch his shoulder, give him my

number, ask him if he wanted to spend the day with

me, the night, however long he wanted… but then

the guy turned around.

And it wasn’t him. It was never him.

I had my hand raised, ready to touch, and the

poor guy who had zero idea who I was looked at

me like I was crazy. Then he smiled a bit, winked,

and cocked his head like he was going to be

waiting outside for a little fun. Definitely not him. I

ordered my coffee and left from the other exit. Not

interested.

On my way home from the non-encounter, I

mailed off yet another application. It wasn’t

anything special, just a small-potatoes travel

magazine that needed a new staff photographer.

Even if the pay wasn’t fantastic, I’d be off on trips

fairly regularly. If nothing else, I wouldn’t mind

some time away from Archer.

“OKAY, so here’s the drill. I’m going to do a few

of you clothed, then we’ll do some shots in your

briefs, then get into the nude shots.” I felt like I had

said it a thousand times. The only difference was

the boobs, or lack thereof. His name was Josh. He

was pretty, in a super-twink kinda way—tanned,

blond in all the right places, waxed, I was sure,

from here to eternity. He looked the part for damn

sure. I imagined they’d put him with girls who’d

play his “girlfriend” in bobby socks and pleated

skirts. Why people were into the kids was beyond

me.

He was perfect, but the poor thing was still

nervous.

“Do you want me to sit on the bed? Like with

my clothes on?”

“Actually, let’s take a few shots on the

armchair.

Take

your

flip-flops

off.

Get

comfortable, like you’re daydreaming about some

hot girl.”

I was looking for that smile. The one that said

“I want sex.” Not the one that said “I’m terrified as

hell.” That was my magic, I supposed. Getting

them calm and relaxed so they looked even

remotely sexual.

Josh padded over to the armchair, little round

butt swishing beneath his khaki shorts. I had to

admit I was interested. Didn’t take a degree in

psychology to figure out why. Small. Blond. Pretty.

I needed to find my mystery guy.

“So, I just sit here like this?” He sat on the

armchair all stiff and proper, like some duchess at

high tea.

I snorted. “Is that really how you relax at

home?”

“No.” He smiled in spite of his nerves.

“C’mon. Feet up, eyes closed. Tell me about

your girlfriend.”

“I don’t have one,” he admitted with a small

smile.

“Any girls you like at home?”

And there it was. My smile. I clicked a

picture. “Well, I’m kind of bi, and, well, there was

this one guy named Tyler. He had the biggest grin,

and we kissed a few times in his truck after school.

I had a girlfriend, but I never told her.” Click,

click.

“Josh, look at me.” He opened his eyes,

dreamy and slow, and turned to face me. “Perfect.”

“You know, you have eyes like Tyler. Like a

puppy or something.”

It had happened early, that moment when the

person on the other end of the camera realized I

was harmless and started to flirt. They always did,

though. I wondered if I was a challenge.

“Why don’t you take your shirt off?”

Josh pulled his tank top over his head. I

smiled at him. Some director was going to have an

orgasm over this kid. He pulled his shorts down

lower on his hips and arched his back. “That

good?”

“Perfect.” After a slow start, the kid was a

natural.

By the time I had him sprawled out on my

bed, covered with preppy blue and beige plaid for

that collegiate look, he was giving me the puppy

eyes he’d accused me of having. Every shot looked

more and more intimate, like he was posing for

some guy or girl he was in love with, just for them.

The shots were beautiful. He’d have his first job in

a week.

I told myself that the studio crushes weren’t

real.

When we wrapped up, I went to walk out, to

give him time to dress like I did with everyone

else.

“Hey, wait. Asher. Come back here.”

I turned, and he was there, still lying on my

bed, legs bent at the knee and open.

“Josh, I don’t think—” I started back toward

the door.
Be professional.
I’d never crossed the

line with any of my clients before.

“C’mon, you’ve seen everything I’ve got. Just

a kiss. It’s been forever since anyone kissed me.”

The slight lilt of pain in his voice, that

moment where his big blue eyes looked up from

beneath floppy, bottle-bleached bangs, it wrenched

my heart. Maybe the kid was full of shit, but I

hated how alone he looked. It might have been

worse than the dead eyes.

“Okay. A kiss. I don’t usually do this.”

Josh stood and walked to where I was

standing, lanky and sinuous and so very young.

“Me neither.”

And then he kissed me—my first since my last

boyfriend. And it was nice, I won’t lie, but there

were no fireworks, no volcanic eruptions, just

comfort. Just the feeling of another human’s lips on

mine; one who might be lonely and wishing for a

real connection. Maybe that’s all he wanted too.

He pulled away with hope in his eyes, though. I

felt like an ass.

“Hey, listen, I’m guessing you’re not the type

to take this all the way—” Josh gestured toward

the bed with his head. “—but how would you feel

about dinner or something? It’s been a long time

since I went on a date.”

“Um, exactly how bi are you?” I didn’t know

why I’d asked. It wasn’t like I was going to say

yes.

“Bi enough that I’d really like to kiss you

again. And maybe get to know you a little better.”

I gritted my teeth. Surprisingly, I was a little

tempted. But it was a bad idea. “I actually can’t

tonight. I have plans with a friend.”

“Take my number?” he asked. It was obvious

he was trying to be nonchalant about it.

“I got it. We’ll hang out sometime.”

I felt like shit when Josh left, like I’d used

him somehow. But his pictures were going to be

gorgeous, and hell if I knew how to get out of that

kiss. I wasn’t going to date him. The kid had to be

nineteen, barely street legal. God. I loaded his

proofs onto my computer to start messing with

them. I couldn’t alter the images much, not that he

needed it, but I could crop and add intensity from

the golden glow of the sun through the window. He

really was a beautiful kid. It wasn’t for me, though.

He wasn’t meant to be
my
beautiful kid.

I HADN’T lied when I told Josh I had plans. I met

my friend Christy for dinner at what was probably

my favorite café within a five-mile radius of my

house. They had a ton of salads and pita bread

with different toppings. Christy and I met there

about once a month or so to talk. She was

perpetually, breathlessly late, but I showed up on

time, willing to wait if I got us a good table. I

knew I had a while before she showed up,

typically flustered and windblown, so I pulled out

my phone to check on my old friends. Most of them

were starting to get married, have kids. It was a

little depressing.

I don’t know what made me look up, but I did.

Look up, that is. I’d been fiddling around on my

phone, disinterested, but I felt something. A

tickling little feeling that told me to look up. So I

did. And there he was. This time it really was him.

That phantom perfect guy. I was speechless. I

froze, hand halfway up like a mannequin. I stared

at him. He stared at me. I tried to smile, ’cause

damn, I wanted to. My whole body was jumping up

and down inside. But I was frozen.

My boy, my pretty blond boy, smiled at me

and started to wave, but then his face fell. I didn’t

understand why until Christy’s wave of perfumed

blond hair draped across my shoulder, and she

smacked a big, wet kiss on my cheek.

“Hey, sexy. How’s your day going?”

My boy froze, turned, and booked it for the

door to the café.

“Hold on, Chris. I’ll be back.” I jumped up,

ready to chase him down. Get a name, a phone

number, the date he wanted to waltz off into the

sunset with me… anything. I wove my way through

tables and chairs and people who just wouldn’t

freaking get out of my way. His blond head slid

through the front door of the restaurant. The bells

jangled like some sad song.

No, no, no. Come back!

I managed to get to the front door and burst

through it. I looked to the right, the left, across the

street. Nothing. He was gone.
Shit.

“YOU’RE home early,” I said to Archer as I

walked into the apartment. My mind was still on

my mystery guy, but I was happy to devote a small

corner to being glad my brother seemed to have

turned over a new leaf.

“Oh.” He waved my comment off. “I haven’t

even left yet. I’m waiting for a call from Tommy.”

“Wait, you’re going out? Don’t you have to

work in the morning?”

Archer shrugged. “It’s ’80s night at

Watertown. There will be more ’80s action going

on than just the clothes, if you know what I mean.”

“Archer.” If my brother was getting into coke,

I would kill him. That was the last thing we

needed.

“
Archer
,” he mimicked.

“Remember you need to work in the

morning.” I felt like a goddamned nag. I hated it.

The words kept coming. “Ryan called today and

said you’ve been late a few times. I thought you

were doing better with everything.”

Archer rolled his eyes. He was about to

answer me when his phone rang. He picked it up.

“Hi, hon!” His happy nice guy voice kind of

shocked me. I hadn’t heard it in months. “Okay. I’ll

be out in a minute.” Archer bounded off the couch

and toward the front door.

“Um….”

“I’ll be out until the morning. Don’t worry

about me. I’ll be fine.”

Yeah. Somehow I wasn’t quite buying it.

Chapter Four

Dusty

WHEN a couple of weeks passed with no call from