Image of You (Gay New Adult Romance Novella) by Elaine Ashford

Author:Elaine Ashford
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: Lovelight Press
Published: 2016-03-24T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Piotr

This time, when Josh does, eventually, leave, it’s a much more prolonged exit, full of last kisses that turn into second-last kisses and even-further-from-last kisses. It’s a good feeling. He’s sweet, it turns out, when he’s not panicking. I don’t need to be told how hot I am, but I’m not going to complain about it.

It’s a good feeling, or at least a better one than last time. I’m probably still making a huge mistake getting into something with a guy who’s still not sure how he feels, but it can’t go that badly, right? At least he came back on his own and he’s willing to talk about it.

Plus, he’s really cute, and the pictures I took today are practically genius if I do say so myself.

I think it over as I take down the trappings of my photography “studio”, folding the backdrop to put it back in it’s drawer, cramming the “seating” into my already overstuffed closet. But it’s hard to think of anything other than that post-coital feeling that’s still running through me, a golden glow recasting everything about Josh in a haze of charm.

Even if I want to try this, I can’t let Josh distract me. The photos I have are good, but they need that little touch up that’ll really put me over the edge. As much as I like photographing Josh, as amazingly tractable as he is, what’s ahead of me now is actual work, and I need to get cracking on that.

But it can definitely wait until tomorrow. For now, I can curl up in my bed, smelling of sex and Josh, and bliss myself right out.

*****

Tomorrow, after I drag myself to and from class, things still seem a little bit golden and hazy. Perhaps this is misplaced confidence, but the editing feels almost like it’s doing itself now. Every picture I open seems only to need the most miniscule of tweaks before it looks perfect, and they look seriously perfect. There’s a few bad ones: blinks, blurred motion where either Josh or I wasn’t able to keep still enough, that kind of thing. But the rest more than make up for it.

Frankly, the problem I’m having now is all choice. So many of these are good, but I can only submit one to the Yardley competition. I can get away with offering my photography prof three or four to choose between, but the competition is the important thing, and it won’t take more than one.

It’s fucking agony. I’m asking everyone at this point, at least all those people I can trust with the pictures. When I bring them to coffee, Louis takes a tortuously long time scrolling through the ones I’ve selected as a shortlist.

“This really is your best work,” he says when he’s done.

I color ridiculously, but as gratifying a statement as it is, I wish he’d just choose some.

Marco and Illyana have fairly similar reactions. “One of these four,” Marco says firmly, furrowing his brow as he looks at my laptop screen.

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