#leica sun burn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crushzone · 4 years

Note

Hi can I request some reader x Lev if that’s ok and if your comfortable, where whenever they are making out the reader keeps on giggling because of how ticklish they are 🤗

My Muse - Haikyuu!!

Character: Reader x Lev Haiba

Summary: An aspiring photographer in search of their muse, runs into Lev on one of their early morning photography escapades.

Word Count: 8,091

Warning: Fluff, none really, Lev the tickle monster? A little suggestive at one point, but he’s just being a tease lol.

Additional Notes:

Dear anon, I hope you enjoy this! Since your request allowed me a lot of room for exploration, I kind of took it for a spin, but I still hope you find the little ticklish kiss part fun!

As a camera nerd, I hope I was not too technical with this. If I had been, please let me know and I will make revisions haha. I figured it might be fine because if you’re not familiar with cameras, you will be just as confused as Lev was in this!

But if you are a fellow camera nerd, come talk to me because I would love to talk about film photography lol.

ALSO, a bonus quick doodle of model Lev I did to supplement my story. ;)

Please do not repost my work (and artwork), thank you!! 💕

—————————

Crank. Snap. Crank. Click.

You sigh in frustration as you come to the end of your film roll, slowly moving across from the beautiful alley cat in front of you to sit down on the side walk, being careful not to scare it away from its glorious pose.

It turns to look at you calmly with its blue eyes, subtly channeling the sassiest impatient expression you have ever seen on a feline, its white fur only surrounds its face like a mask, while the rest of its body is black. If this was your cat, you’d totally name it Erik, or Phantom, like the characters from Phantom of the Opera.

You pull out an empty canister, a pen and a roll of paper tape from your book bag and sets it next to you as you calmly wind your film, bringing it close to your ears so you can hear it click when it’s done. Then you pull the back cover open with confidence, loading your winded film into the empty canister, taping the top off, and uncapping your pen to label the date.

Looking up to make sure the cat is still there, then to the sky to sigh in relief that dawn is still awaiting your perfect shot. You look back down to your 35mm camera on your lap, re-loading it with a fresh new roll of film.

You close the back with a snap, as you pick the camera up from your lap, running your fingers up and down the side as you try to familiarize yourself with every dips and textures of the device.

Photography may be a hobby for some, but to you, it’s your dream. There’s just so much beauty in the world, so many people to capture, and so many quiet moments like this to remember. You love waking up very early in the morning to have a head start on readying for school, so you can take your sweet time, photographing quiet moments that only happens during the magic hour of dawn, on your way to class.

You bring your camera to frame up the cat, perfectly composing the shots with no spare inch to even bother cropping, because it was just complete.

Crank. You wind the lever of your camera, tongue licking your lower lip in anticipation. The cat perks its ears and its eyes widen, looking so lively and in its element, as if though it was posing for your camera.

“There you are!” A loud laughter sounds and from your peripheral, a VERY tall figure jumps at the cat.

Snap

Incredulous, you slowly pull your camera away from your face, no longer sure what you ended up capturing, and you will never know until you’ve develop your film at a later time.

If only you had applied a little more pressure to the shutter, a few seconds earlier, you would have been more sure.

“Oww!!” You finally look up from your camera to see a tall male with silver hair, gripping his hand with a wince, the cat no longer there.

With widened eyes, you take a few steps back. Your parent’s warning about dawn being the prime time for crimes, echos in your mind. But then he turns around with a pout and you can’t help but relax. There’s no way this guy can commit crimes.

“Y/n-san, and don’t judge anyone off their appearance, you never know who the criminal may be.” You mentally recall your mother’s voice, as you stiffen back up.

His eyes trained to his hand, brows furrowed, as he’s watching some blood drip to his wrist, still unaware of your presence.

“Are…are you ok?” You ask quietly, still debating if he’s going to kidnap or befriend you.

Like an eagle, his emerald orbs lock on to yours and you take another step back. He’s so intense.

But then just as quickly as his eyes had shifted to yours, a wide enthusiastic grin takes over his features, and you could have sworn that if he was a puppy, and a tall one indeed, his tail would be wagging rapidly.

“I didn’t see you there, I’m Lev!” He offers his injured hand for you to shake, but you just grab the tip of his long pointer and shakes it daintily; not wanting any of his blood on you.

You let go of his finger then digs through your book bag to pull out a water-bottle and some bandaid. “Here, it’s not much but it should be enough to get you to the nurse without scaring anyone.”

He blinks, a little surprised someone he had just met is so thoughtful to him before reaching his hand back out with a smile. You put your camera strap over you and swings it to the side, before washing away his blood with your water, allowing it to drip down his wrist and on to the ground.

He winces at the sensation of your cool water burning his wound; a strange juxtaposition. However, what’s stranger is that he can’t seem to will his eyes away from your concentrated face.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/n.” You respond, one worded, still too focused on cleaning his wound to carry out a decent conversation. However, Lev did not pick up on the clue as he continues to converse.

“I don’t usually see a lot of people going to school this early. Is this your regular route?” He asks.

You bring your eyes to scan his uniform; White button up, red tie, black vest, and grey trousers that matches his hair color perfectly. A fellow Nekoma peer.

Meanwhile he brings his hand to the side to shake off the access water, swinging his palm up and down to air dry.

“Yea, I like to get up early so I can take some morning photos.”

You unwrap the bandaid packaging as you patiently wait for his hand to dry. Then when it is, you carefully position it so that the scratch only touches the non-adhesive cushion, throwing the crumpled wrapper back into your bag. It’s a tomorrow problem.

“I like getting up early too! There’s just something so magical about dawn, it paints the sky so pink, it almost looks like cotton candy.” He looks up to the sky, reaching his bandaged hand upwards in a grabby motion, as if he’s trying to pick a piece of cloud for himself.

You look up to him, his fair skin kissed by the warmth of the sky as his vibrant green eyes reflect the ball of sun that is shyly rising. your hand that’s been on the camera twitches as the urge to photograph the moment tempts you, but you decide against it, since you’ve only just met him.

Re-adjusting the strap of your book back out of habit, you begin to walk away from him.

“I should get going, nice to meet you.”

He blinks, confused as to why you’re leaving all of a sudden. “Hey, let’s head to school together!” He says, as he bounces up to you.

You turn to him with a sigh. If only he didn’t scare that cat away, you may have started off on a better foot.

“Sure.”

He beams at your response. The two of you continue your journey to school in an awkward silence; you’re generally not the most talkative person, and he’s suddenly feeling a little shy to say something because he senses the air being a little off.

“Your camera looks really cool. Where’d you get it?”

You pick your camera up in your hands and smiles fondly at it.

“My parents work at a vintage camera shop close to 8-Eleven. (nope, not a typo, it’s the store near Nekoma in their OVA) This Pentax K1000 is a new camera someone had just sold to us, it’s the one I’ve always wanted, so the moment it came in, my father gifted it to me.”

I actually own this camera, and it is my baby 💕

He finds himself smiling with you as he watches you run your hand over the material of the camera tenderly.

“Isn’t it a little scary when you can’t see what you’ve just shot?”

“I think that’s the charm of it. Sometimes I’ll take a photo, forget about it, and when I go to develop my film, I get to relive the moment again.” Your smile widens as you think back to all the silly photos you developed. “It also makes me very picky about my shots, so that all the photos I end up with are all very good ones.”

“That’s so cool! I wish I know how to develop a film!”

You chuckle, slowly warming yourself up to him. “Well, get me a completed roll of film and maybe I can teach you. I’ve done it so many times, I know the procedure like the back of my hand”

In a way, his enthusiasm reminds you of how you were when you were younger; always so excited to learn all the ropes your parents have to offer about film photography.

Maybe he’s not so bad after all.

He bounces energetically again. “I WILL get you a roll of shot film!” And then he stops with a pout. “But I don’t have a camera…”

You laugh, already predicting his dilemma even before he made his promise.

“I would lend you my Leica M2, but I don’t know you very well. You could be an irresponsible camera parent for all I know.”

He doesn’t even know any of the names you are saying, assuming that they are all just camera models, but it doesn’t matter. “I will prove to you that I am a very responsible camera parent, y/n-san.”

“Well, win my trust then, Lev.” You say with a small smile, continuing to walk ahead.

A determined smile slowly make its way to his lips as he brings his fist to punch the air. “I will, y/n-san, I’ll win your trust!"

———————

It is now lunch break, and you’re using your 30 minutes to head back to your parent’s camera shop, and grab some food along the way from 8-Eleven. Humming quietly to yourself, you bounce down the streets, wondering what new cameras might come in today.

Speaking of cameras, you wonder what you should photograph next. The film you’ve just loaded is a rather expensive one, best suited for portraits due to its outstanding ability to render skin tone.

Hmm, portraits. You mentally browse through a list of people that may be suitable for your next project, but you can’t seem to decide on one. No one had really caught your eyes recently…

“Y/n-san!!” You turn to the sound source, instantly feel your cheeks warm when you see a group of very attractive, mostly tall, men sitting at the bench in front of 8-Eleven.

Too many cuties in one photo lol.

They all look so good in their own kind of way…

Suddenly feeling very awkward, you look down to your feet after you’ve accidentally made eye contact with the bed head haired male who gave you a grin. When you look back up, all you could see is half a red bean bun being offered to you.

“Y/n-san! It’s so nice to see you again.” He says, chewing happily with a bright smile, mouth full with his half of the bun, and his long arm still outstretch to offer you his other half.

Look at him and Inuoka eating omg. 🥺

You suddenly have a difficult time gulping, and with widened eyes, you slowly force yourself to exhale. There’s a strange sensation in the pit of your stomach, a warm feeling that slowly crawls its way up your heart, then to the front of your forehead, as you feel the urge to explode, in tears? In laughter? In a whimper? You don’t know what is going on, and you’re just not going to think too hard about it as you look up at Lev chomping away at his food, oblivious of his effect on you.

How could he be so cheery all the time? It’s like his lips are made to smile and his eyes are made to glisten.

Like a robot, you stiffly bring both your hands up to accept half of his bun between your delicate fingers. You could have sworn the bread looked a lot smaller when it was in his hand.

“Thank you.”

He nods enthusiastically in return. “I was worried because we never really exchanged contact. So I spent a good couple of minutes trying to figure out how to see you again.”

You feel a rush of warmth to your cheeks as you slowly nibble at the soft bread, barely making it anywhere near the filling. “Did that work out for you?”

“Yea! You said your store was near 8-Eleven, so I asked my friends to come get lunch here with me!” He turns back to wave at his friends, though no one returned his gesture except for the tall male with spiky brown hair, waving back with matching enthusiasm. (Inuoka 🥺)

He asked his friends to get lunch here just so he can maybe run into you again?

Looking off to the side, you continue to nibble at your bun, thankful that he’s offered it to you because you’re suddenly too shy to enter 8-Eleven with all those attractive guys sitting in front of it.

“So where are you headed to?” He looks at you with a soft smile, finding the fact that you’re holding your food with two hands very endearing, like a little chipmunk.

“I’m just heading to the shop, I wanted to see if there’s going to be any new cameras that might come in today.”

“Oooh, can I come with?” He leans down to look at you and you can’t resist his eager eyes.

“Sure.” Then you walk off with him happily trailing next to you, readjusting his steps to match your speed.

At the bench, Yaku is holding a melted ice cream, the dessert no longer holding its integrity as the liquid drips down his wrists and on to his grey trousers. He puts it in front of him so it drips to the ground instead, teeth gritting in frustration.

“Freaking Lev! Why would he ask me to hold his ice cream if he’s not planning on getting it back.” He frowns as he watches his tall friend leave with you.

“He forgot his bag too!” Inuoka says when he notices that all their bags are still perfectly lined up next to each other’s.

Kuroo finishes his box of milk with a few airy sips, and tosses it into the garbage bin. “This guy…whoever they were just got him hooked.”

Kenma looks up from his game momentarily to glance at the two of you before looking back down without a word.

—————

The bell to your parent’s store jingles when you open the front door, allowing it to slowly recline back to close.

Your father’s eyes light up when he sees you bounce towards the counter with an enthusiastic grin, while your mother waves at you from the cashier. “I’m here to bother you during my lunch break again!”

Your parents laugh, clearly not bothered by your visits at all, they almost expected you to. Your father looks to the tall boy next to you with a warm smile. “Welcome to our shop!”

Lev smiles back, bowing politely to him then to your mother before leaning back up to look at you. “This is my friend Lev, he just wants to swing by and check out our store.”

“Glad to hear that!” Your father laughs as he sets down a big cardboard box filled with new cameras that arrived today on the glass counter. “Check out our new arrivals!”

You gasp when you spot a model you love, reaching in to pick it up delicately, as if it’s a newborn baby. “N-No way!! A Fujifilm point and shoot in collaboration with Disney?!”

“Yea! You should have seen the guy who came over to sell it!” Your dad begins.

Your mother turns around in her seat and laughs. “He was all dressed up in a Donald Duck t-shirt and Mickey jeans.”

Why are you so excited over a Mickey Mouse on a camera? Lev tilts his head, a little confused but he’s happy you’re happy.

You turn to him with your sparkles in your eyes and his brightens right back. “I can’t believe a collector in this town decided to sell it to us. This is a very rare collection, and in such pristine condition too.”

I guess, who wouldn’t be happy to see Mickey Mouse on a camera. He’s happy for you.

“Whoa!” He says, unsure what else he could add on to keep your smiles going for longer. “Y/n-san, what kind of photos do you take?”

You set the camera back into the box and picks up another to inspect its condition. “All sorts! I do a lot of street photographies, but I’ll have occasional cravings to do fashion portraits too.”

Your father was about to discuss more exciting facts about the camera in your hand, but your mother places her hand on his bicep to silence him with a smile, nodding towards you and Lev who are conversing happily. The two of you are in your own little bubble.

“That’s so cool! I’d love to have a look at your photos sometime!”

“I would love for you to see it! I have it in my room if you’d like to!”

Nodding his head quickly, he responds. “Yes please!!”

You set the camera back down again and walks over to the employees only door that leads up to your home above the shop. “Thanks for sharing these with me dad! I’ll come look into it some more after school!”

“Of course, honey, There might even be more later!”

With an excited nod, you turn to walk up the stairs with Lev behind you.

——————

“Whoa, Y/n-san!!!” He dashes to the collage of photographs next to your bed, eyeing every single one of them with his eyes sparkling. “Are you sure you don’t work for an editorial or something?!”

You laugh timidly as you sit on the bed, bringing your hand to rub the back of your neck shyly, you’ve never been good at taking compliments. “That makes me happy to hear, Lev, I’ve always wanted to work as an editorial photographer.”

“You should! I know you will.” He says with so much confidence, it almost felt like you’ve known him for much longer than just this morning.

He notices you have one particular male model reoccur in a few of your photoshoots. “Are these your friends, y/n-san?”

“Not really, I’m not really too close to anyone here. But I’m not afraid to ask random people who’s caught my eye to model for me.” Then you look up to see that he’s pointing to a specific model, causing you to look down with your cheeks warm. “Oh, him. We used to be neighbors, but he doesn’t go to Nekoma anymore.” He was your first real crush.

Not quite getting the answer he was looking for, he decides to brush it off and continue to look at your other photos, comically leaning his lanky limbs down just so he can have a closer look.

Meanwhile, you can’t help but draw your eyes back to Lev, unintentionally studying his features: eyes very feline-like, as he studies your photographs like a snow leopard with his big hands on his long long legs. He would look so great with olive on his smooth skin, one that would accentuate the definition of his long neck that leads up to his defined jaws. Perhaps a button up with some free flowing trousers?

Gosh…he is beautiful, how have you not realized it this morning.

Sensing the silence in the room, he glances over to see your eyes immediately snap away from him as you look down to your lap while fiddling with the material of your comforter.

But that doesn’t bother him, he likes that you notice him.

“How come I don’t see you in any of these photos?” He asks, standing up tall.

“Because I’m the one taking the photos? Also, I don’t think I’m too photogenic.”

“Nonsense!” You look up to see him smile cheekily at you, and you almost just want to raise your camera to photograph him again. “You have the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen!”

You feel immense heat rise up your cheeks and that warm feeling in your gut returns, but before you could burst, he adds.

“But that’s ok! I guess I’ll just have to earn your trust so I can photograph you with the Leila 2.”

You blink before you begin to laugh, finding his failed attempt to remember the names of your camera incredibly endearing. “My Leica M2?”

“I was so close! Yes, that one!” He laughs.

Your laugh slowly settles when you look at his face for the 100th time today, the after smile still apparent on your lips, but your eyes are enchanted by his boyish charm.

You want to photograph him so bad…

“Lev…” You breath, he stops laughing and looks at you, a glint of expectation in his eyes.

“Hmm?”

Your eyes widened when you realized you actually attempted to speak your mind. “Uhh, um. Nothing…we should probably head back to school.”

His expectation dissipates, replaced by a nod and an unintentional flirty smile. “Yea, but after I get your number?” (Smooth. Lev totally gives me that unintentional flirty boy vibe, where everyone thinks he’s flirting with them, until you realize that he’s just generally friendly lol.)

He doesn’t even know what he was expecting, but he can’t seem to stop himself from trying to learn more about what else might make you smile.

—————

It had been over a month since you’ve met him, and the two of you had been texting frequently. Some days when he’s extra busy with volleyball, you find yourself constantly glancing at your phone in anticipation for his response to just about anything you sent him. When you do get a notification from him, you can’t help but smile widely as you finger rushes to see what he’s said.

You would wake up and fall asleep to his texts, and though you’ve denied your expectations of receiving his daily greetings, he never seems to let you down. It makes you feel special, like he’s always here with you, thinking of you.

Some days, he’ll show up to your shop after practice when you are close to the end of your night shift, just to say hi, and eat some quick dinner together before he has to run home.

Your parents keep asking you about Lev, but you would always tell them that he’s just your friend, and they would exchange knowing looks to one another.

“Oh sweetie, Lev came by last night and he wanted us to give this to you, first thing in the morning.”

Your mother pulls out a neatly wrapped present with Mickey Mouse printed all over it. Your heart flutters with joy as you feel heat rush to your cheeks and the corners of your lips automatically rise. You reach your arms out to bring it to your chest, before excusing yourself back up stairs.

“I like this one.” Your mother says to your father, who nods happily.

“Yea, I like him a lot too.”

——————

Shutting the door lightly behind you, you flop down on your bed with the present in front of you on the pillow. This is the first time someone aside from your parents had ever gifted you on your birthday.

Reaching for your phone, you move the present on to your prettier blanket before snapping a quick photo of it to send to Lev. He responds almost instantly.

y/n [6:10 AM]

-photo-

Lev!!! Thank you so much for your present!

Lev [6:10 AM]

Yayy, I’m so glad! Have you opened it?! :D

y/n [6:11 AM]

Not yet! I’m just excited.

Lev [6:11AM]

Well, open it, y/n-san. I hope you’ll like it.

You set your phone down to unwrap your present, until you hear another ping.

Lev [6:13 AM]

WAITTT!!!

Y/n!!

Let’s video call! I want to see your reaction. :)

Suddenly you’ve become very nervous, you’ve never video called him before and you weren’t properly dressed yet. You look down to inspect the current state of your appearance: oversized hoodie and boxer shorts, your hair is a mess and your teeth had not been brushed.

You could hold off on unwrapping your present, but you recall your parents specifically say that he wanted it to be given to you, first thing in the morning. But the lingering drowsiness from waking up so early, still weighs your lids and the thought of peeling off your comfortable hoodie and clothing your bare legs feel unbearably troublesome.

Lev [6:17 AM]

Y/n san??

Screw it.

You force yourself not to think too much as you hit a video icon under his name, and he picks up almost right away.

“Y/n-san, happy birthday!” He says, voice still a little husky from sleep, and you instantly feel your heart beat just a little faster as you eye his appearance through your small screen. His silver hair is still messy, unlike his usual neat side sweep, and he’s still bundled up in his purple blanket, allowing his toned arms to come in full display when he hugs a pillow that’s under his chest. Something about his undone appearance makes you want to be right there with him.

“Lev-san!” You gulp as you try to divert your eyes back to his sleepy smile as he lazily rests his chin on a pillow. “Did I wake you up?”

“Nope! I had to be up anyway. Now, open open!” He gestures with a nod.

You set your phone down on your pillow as you sit cross legged in the center of your bed with the present on your lap. He pulls his phone closer to subtly check you out; secretly imagining you in his hoodie instead, then blushes when he notices your bare legs, the hem of your plaid boxers only peaking shyly.

If only his phone would not make a snapping sound, he would have screen grabbed this image of you, looking so temptingly undone. (<- What would he do with the photo tho 👀😉 )

You read the tag and begins to smile, moving your fingers to carefully unwrap the golden ribbons and the dotted paper, making sure to not to rip anything by accident.

Lev sets his phone against his pillow, then leans onto the back of his hands as he watches you with a smile. Your happiness is just so infectious, and he can’t stop himself from craving it.

You squeal and giggle happily when you pull out the camera strap and 3 rolls of film you’ve always had your eyes on. His eyes sparkles and his smile widens at your reaction, as he laughs with you.

He wants this moment to last. He wants to keep seeing you smile.

—————

You did it, you finally asked Lev to model for you.

It had been 2 months since you’ve done any photoshoots, and you can’t seem to figure out why you found it so difficult to ask him to model for you…

You think back to your other failed attempts and face palms yourself when you try to recount all the times you would watch him in his moment in awe, then his name would slip from your lips without your mind’s consent. When he responds and urges you to continue, you would always look away and change the subject.

He steps out of your restroom in the clothes you’ve handed him, and you can’t help but stare.

“Is this ok?” He asks innocently.

And he is more than okay.

He looks even better than how you’ve always imagined him to: standing so tall in his olive button up and brown trousers, his top unbuttoned down by two. His shoulders are a lot broader and his waist more snatched than how you’ve imagined him under Nekoma’s ill-fitting uniform.

Here’s my quick doodle of Lev for this fic haha.

You run your eyes up and down his figure, trying to come off like you’re looking over his outfit, but really, you’re trying to brush off the tingly feeling at the tip of your ears.

“If you’re comfortable…” You hesitate, as you realize your request may be too much to ask for. “umm…if you could unbutton one more?…ah, only if you’re comfortable, you don’t have t-“ You continue to ramble but he just nods and unbuttons his third one, revealing his toned chest.

You eyes widen because you were not expecting him to be so chiseled, but that actually makes a lot of sense since he’s a volleyball player after all. Then you look away with your cheeks flushed when he grins at you with a wink. (Ah 😳)

Damn him and his pecks.

You mentally shake your head to snap yourself out of his allure, rummaging through your bag on your lap. “Oh…I almost forgot.” Pulling out your black camera, you offer it to him with a smile. “Here’s my Leica M2!”

He beams and carefully holds it in his large hands, the way he’s observe you when you inspect the store’s new arrival; like a newborn.

“Yes!!! Thank you so much, I almost thought you forgot about it.” Without hesitance, he walks over to his bag that’s next to you on the bed, then pulls out a roll of film. You look at him a little surprised.

“When did you get that roll?”

“Oh, your parents gave it to me on one of the times when I came to visit, but you weren’t here.” He gets on his knees beside you, putting the camera on your bed to perform his first loading operation. You blink when he does it so calmly and so perfectly, snapping the back shut before cranking the lever until the notch reads 0: ready for its first real shot.

“H-How? What? When did you know how to do that?” He looks at you with an excited smile.

“Your father taught me this! Haha.”

Your confusion fades as you begin to feel a little down; you wanted to teach Lev how to shoot on film…”Did he teach you how to develop film too?” You say quietly as you get up with your bag strapped across your shoulder.

His eyes widen, suddenly realizing why you’ve stopped smiling. “No, I asked him not to because I want you to be the one to teach me.” He gets up from his knees to take a step towards you. “Will you help me with that, Y/n-san?”

“Yea.” You take a moment before responding, turning to walk away, but he brings your wrist into both his palms.

“Y/n-san…I’m sorry if I made you sad.”

He sits on the edge of your bed, then gently tugs you into his arms, resting his head against your right shoulder, with one of his large hands comfortably on the small of your back while the other’s on your nape.

You immediately stiffen up before slowly allowing yourself to relax in his warmth, bringing your arms to shyly wrap around his waists and leaning your head on top of his, inhaling slowly to bask in the fresh scent of his silver strands. The two of you stay that way a while, maybe a little longer than you should, before he shifts to look at you. A strange feeling in your stomach at the unusual sight of his face so close to yours at eye level.

You look right back into his captivating orbs, the charm of his feline-like eyes hold your gaze captive, and like a magnet, you find yourself leaning closer to him as he does the same. Before your mind could register the situation, your soft lips meets his plush ones, and like a feather, he starts with a gentle pucker; a kiss to show that he is grateful to be here with you.

Then another, this time pulling his lower lip to brush against yours before firmly lining it up, his eyes half lidded, drunken on the sweetness of your taste: he’s kindly begging to see happiness return to your oculus.

His arms around your body tightens, as an intense craving for your warmth flushed against his body becomes unbearable. Any skin to skin he can feel, he’ll gladly cherish.

You two pull back to look into each other’s eyes, and like a competition to see who has the better attention to detail, your gaze dances up and down his features, as you ingrain every dust of subtle freckles on his nose and every strand of his fluttery lashes in your mind. Then you bring both your hands to his soft cheeks to pull him back in for a firmer kiss.

This time, he runs the tip of his tongue along your bottom lip, politely asking for entrance as you gladly grant him access. Your tongue dances with his in new found harmony, before switching back to your firmer kisses, falling into a natural rhythm.

He squeezes his hand on your lower back to deepen the kiss and he can’t help but smile to your warm lips when he hears a small giggle vibrate from your throat.

He pulls back, keeping his face very close to yours as he looks down at you, half lidded, with a growing smirk. “I see someone’s a little ticklish.”

“No, I’m not.” As you’re trying to push him away with both your hands, he pulls you in closer with a laugh, reconnecting his lips to yours while his hands ladders up your sides, down your back then to the back of your neck, gently squeezing as he go.

You squirm in his arms, trying to contain your laughter as you try to focus on kissing him, but you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. He pulls back to study your adorable expressions before nuzzling his face to your neck, making sure to breath heavily so you can giggle some more for him.

He is hooked, this is his new addiction.

“Lev, I’m going to kill you!” You giggle as you try to weakly push his head away, but he only nuzzles you harder, wiggling both his hands up and down your sides. “Hahahah!”

The fact that he has you pinned so tightly, heightens your sensitivity as you are tempted to give in to your hysteria.

Then an idea pops up in his mind.

“Y/n-san, wait here.” He says as he sets you free, allowing you to catch your breath as you clutch your sides in an attempt to rid your goosebumps of its phantom. He grabs your camera from the bed, then walks over to set it up on your dresser, opposite to you.

“How do you set a timer on this?”

“There should be a notch to the side.” You respond out of instinct, though you are a little confused as to what he’s trying to capture. Your room is messy from all the clothes you have laid out for Lev to try, and the sun is way too direct to be flattering.

Crank. Tik, tik, tik.

He hovers his hands over the camera for a moment, making sure that it will not fall, then sits back down on his previous spot on the bed. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, he pulls you to his lap then leans down to kiss you with one hand to support the back of your head, simultaneously fluttering his long fingers on the small strip of exposed skin above your waistband. You squirm ticklishly, no longer able to hold back your sweet giggles as he laughs at your reaction, leaning down to trail ghost-like kisses down your chin. He’s thoroughly enjoying himself. Snap.

“Yay, my first shot!” He exclaims excitedly, still tickling and easily holding down your thrashing body with his big hands.

“Haha, you…evil!” You manage mid giggle as you weakly reach your arms out to wiggle at his waist with your long nails, causing him to double over, laughing, before swinging you on to the bed so that he doesn’t drop you by accident.

With his long legs straddling your waist, he pounces at you with both hands, tickling you mercilessly all over, shifting between spots so swiftly that you are not allowed any chance to grab his wrists. When you’ve given up on your defense, you diverted to the offensive, feathering your nails up his exposed neck then to the back of his ears. He laughs obnoxiously, then in an attempt to worsen your predicament, he nuzzles his nose against your neck, using his laugh as a weapon to tickle you with his erratic breaths.

“Ok, ok, I surrender haha.” He giggles, as he tries to stop you by easily grasping both your wrists into one of his large hands and pinning it above your head. Oddly enough, it almost did not seem like you’re the winner here. 😳

Realizing the suggestive position you are both in, he lets go of your wrist to bring one of his calloused hands to tenderly caress your warm cheek, his eyes look to yours with adoration. He didn’t want this moment to be lewd, he just wants it to be soft and genuine.

“I like you a lot, y/n-san.”

You cup his face with your hands before pulling him down to place a kiss to his forehead. “I like you too.”

Then your eyes catch a glimpse of his torso to see that his outfit is now wrinkly again, and from his position above you, gravity had tugged his half unbuttoned shirt revealingly, allowing you to see all the way down his chiseled abs.

You gulp. Oh boy, and here you thought he’s all fluff.

He notices you checking him out, then gives you the biggest, cheekiest grin as he leans down to nibble your ear.

“Like what you see?”

“Shut up.” Smacking his flexed bicep in embarrassment, only to feel heat rising to your head as you felt how rock solid it was.

“I’m going to say it!”

“Stop”

“Why don’t you take a photo of it then.” He says with a wink, earning a laugh and a facepalm from you.

“Goof, I will.”

—————

After getting Lev re-dressed, you take him to all the different places you thought were interesting, mostly away from public eyes. To your surprise, he poses very naturally, you barely have to give him any direction as he just automatically find ways to work his body in harmony with the settings.

Anywhere you go, and everyone you pass, people always seem to turn their heads back around to look at him; some were gazes of infatuated while some were of jealousy. But the amusing part of it all is how oblivious he had been about the looks he’s gotten, instead, his attention is all on you, and that really made you feel a stronger connection to him; both as his significant other and his photographer.

With any moment you were with him that day, you can’t help but raise your camera up to capture all the small things Lev would do; randomly reaching out to touch a small branch as he walks, leaning all the way down to talk to a cat by the side of the streets, and smiling widely every time you call his name, as if he’s meeting you for the first time after a very long time.

You want to capture it all with your camera; a physical manifestation of your memory. And you’re not the only one, sometimes you’ll catch him pull out his camera when you are fiddling with yours, or when the sun would kiss your radiant skin while you look up to the bright blue sky with your fist above you, something you would always do to discern the direction of your shadows. When you turn to him after hearing a snap, he would give you the cheekiest grin, before running up to you like nothing had happened.

Lev is as fascinated of you as you are of him.

You’ve read that a good photographer is able to draw a relationship with any of their models, but there is something really special about a session with someone you share personal interests with outside of the studio.

You never knew how it felt like to have someone like that to photograph, but today is the first time in a long time where every shutter feels like a blink, and the lens you look through feels like the extension of your pupils.

—————

You could have developed the film you’ve shot with Lev that same day, but you decided to be nice and wait until he’s done with his before doing so, since your tank could hold two rolls each time.

It had been a week since that shoot, and you’re surprised when Lev barges into your camera shop after his practice with the cat you’ve attempted to photograph months ago, dangling pathetically in his hands. He raises it up with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.

“I think I finished my roll!”

Leaning on the glass counter at the shop, a big smile slowly creeps to your lips. His enthusiasm is so contagious, and seeing him definitely brights up your day every time.

“Congrats! Come here, let’s wind it up”

He sets the cat down, outside of your shop, petting it goodbye, before bouncing up to you and setting the camera down gently on the glass.

“Ok, so you’re going to want to pull this lever up half way, then with the other hand, press down on this little button.” You go to explain the steps, pointing to the different parts of the camera and miming your motion before handing it back to him. “Try it!”

He tries to follow your instructions, nervously pulling the lever up halfway, pressing the button underneath the camera, then begins to unwind. You bring your ear close to the camera to listen for a click, and he does the same.

Click.

Both your eyes light up, as he looks to you for approval before opening up the back. The film roll looks hilariously tiny in his large hands as he holds it out to you happily. “I did it!”

“Good job, Lev! Now you can put that in your empty canister!”

But he’s already at it, nodding happily as he rummages through his gym bag for one. Once it’s in, you hand him a tape and he concentrates on labelling it before handing the tape and pen back to you with a smile.

“I really can’t wait!” He hands your camera back to you, but instead, you shake your head.

“It’s yours. I’ve had it for a long time now.” His eyes widen as he reaches across the counter to pull you into a hug, placing a small kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you so much, I will be a very good camera parent!” You laugh.

“You had been! That’s why I trust you” And he smiles back so widely, you never want to feel his arms unwrap itself from your torso.

—————

When your shift is over that night, you bring Lev to your room to demonstrate the procedure with your roll of exposed film, so he can see it with the lights on. You had him reattempt it a few times with his eyes closed, occasionally reaching your hands out to guide him.

Once he feels confident enough, which was very quickly, you lay out everything you need on your bed, tells Lev to sit on the mattress, crosslegged, before throwing a blanket over him and all the tools.

You take a step back to laugh when you notice how silly this looks; Lev looks like a giant on your bed, and now that there’s a blanket over him, he can’t seem to stop giggling.

“Alright, I’m turning off the lights. Hold tight, you blanket monster."

Then you draw your blackout curtains, turns off all the lights and makes sure that your room is completely dark before climbing under the blanket, opposite to him. You didn’t tumble or walk into anything at all since you’ve done this so many times.

“Ok, so treat this just like your practice run! I find it easier to keep your eyes closed.”

He nods, but then he quickly realizes that you could not see him. “Ok!”

Reaching for his film, he begins working on his operation, surprisingly calmly, though he did fumble and struggle to load his strip on to his roll, he kept persisting. Meanwhile, you work on yours in silence and with very precise movements.

Soon after, you load both your films into your tub and closes the lid, before pulling the blanket off.

“Oof, it was hot in there!” He says, stretching his arms up in the dark while you set the tub on your desk before turning the lights back on.

“You’re like a human furnace, it’s never been that warm under the blankets before. how was it?”

He does the grabby hands and pulls you back on to his lap, placing a small kiss to your nose before responding.

“It was really comforting.” Then he gently squeezes his hand on your waist, causing you to wiggle out of his gasp with a squeal.

“I’m not falling for that again!” You exclaim, sitting on the the ground with your arms around your torso to protect yourself from the tickle monster.

He laughs loudly. “But you’re so adorable!”

————

Lev eventually left to go home after the film was developed.

Excited to see the results of your photoshoot, you stayed up late to scan all the shots. Once it’s done, you disconnect your laptop so you can sit on your bed with your back against the wall, happily flipping through the shots while snacking on some dates.

As expected, all your shots of Lev turned out very well, and you can’t help but linger on some of the photos, obsessing over just how effortlessly captivating he look; he’ll look so seductive in one, looking down at the camera, half lidded with the slightest hint of a playful smirk, while in the next, he’ll look so innocent, with his face tilted slightly downwards, and his almond eyes subtly widened, allowing the sun to bounce off the vibrancy of his gem colored orbs.

You can’t believe that his only modeling experience was of him with his sister, on an ice cream commercial when he was 5. You laugh at the thought of him smothering his face with ice cream.

But what surprises you most is Lev’s album; with photos of you taking up more than half of his roll, and they were all very well shot too. Do I really look like this?

You hate being photographed, but upon looking through his shots of you, you can’t help but feel the warmth of happiness radiate from within your heart.

Through his lens, you looked so authentic and genuinely happy. He captured you at moments you never knew was worth capturing, and you begin to wonder if he had the same urge to photograph you as badly as you did for him, when you first met in the alley at dawn.

Recounting back to all the times you felt his eyes watch you appreciatively, with a warm smile. He makes you feel loved, and special.

You come to realize why you hate to be photographed; you never felt worthy enough to spend a roll of film on. But he’s proving you wrong, as you now understand the way he sees you.

He sees you for you. It’s as simple as that.

Then at the end of the album, you see a photo that brings the happiest smile to your lips: it was his first shot where he’s tickling you. The light that you thought was too direct, turned out to be perfectly exposed, rimming the two of you beautifully, while the mess on your bed provided authenticity to the photo. You can’t help but smile wider as you remember the exact moment when you two kissed for the first time.

You’ve finally found your muse.

——————

Taglist: @shhhlikeme

#lev haikyuu #lev haiba #lev #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!!#lev haiba x reader #reader x lev haiba #lev x reader #reader x haikyuu #reader insert #fanfiction #fluff #wholesome #timeskip lev haiba

58 notes · View notes

jfmuguet-photo · 5 years

Photo

Mornings. Langey, Eure et Loir. Janvier 2019 #langey #eureetloir #france #roadside #countryside #street #road #country #derelict #house #sun #winter #burn #woodworking #wood #photojfmuguet #leica #leicaq #leicacamera #leicacamerafrance #lfi #lfimagazine #photography #photooftheday #picoftheday #landscape #landscapephotography #streetphotography (à Langey, Centre, France) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bss48MMhIZ6/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1o6op9s2r9dms

0 notes

kevinsturman · 5 years

Photo

Good day sunshine, Good day sunshine, Good day sunshine. We take a walk, the sun is shining down, Burns my feet as they touch the ground. ©️Kevin Sturman 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿#coneyisland ##newyorker #newyorknewyork #usa #unitedstates #america #nyclife #usa🇺🇸 #acolorstory #leica_world #leica #leicacamerausa #leicacamera #portrait #leicaq #leicacraft #leicaphotography #makeportraits #storyportrait #postmoreportraits #justgoshoot #handsinframe #acertainslantoflight #instagood #I4I #instafollow #Leicagram #🔴📷 (at Coney Island) https://www.instagram.com/p/ByJCdXYHsb0/?igshid=1rw6p6q135poy

0 notes

99-9fd · 7 years

Photo

Catching air vs Paparazzi #sun #burn #sesimbra #beachhouse #seaside #eldorado #colorado #leica #analogue #film (em Sesimbra Beach - Praia de Sesimbra)

#sun #film #beachhouse #colorado #eldorado #analogue #sesimbra #seaside #leica #burn

0 notes

alexteltevskiy · 7 years

Text

Vintage camera review - Vivitar 220/SL with 50mm f/1.8

Intro

Always on the lookout for vintage cameras to try out, me and Kris (from 43 Stories) stumbled upon by chance on another long-lost closet treasure - her Grandfather's Vivitar 220/SL, complete with original strap and the Vivitar 50mm f/1.8. I was told the camera was originally bought for family candids of the grandkids but later also entered active duty in her Grandfather's business as a Private Investigator, chronicling the daily stream of evidence, clues and suspects. Quite honestly, the no-nonesense jet black finish of the camera lent it an aura of cool composure much more suited to covert snaps than trying to get the kids to smile. Seriously, the thing looks like something Darth Vader would carry around. Camera looked and felt like a tactical tool, with a weight of authority to it, oversized controls and chiseled, no-snag tapered lines.

First impressions aside, second impressions told me that this derelict detective's sidekick will need quite a lot of CLA to bring it up to spec. Viewfinder was dimmer than a dark forest path on a moonless night and the shutter was in no hurry to count the time at speeds of 1/30th and slower. Lens seemed almost opaque. Foam seals were stickier than gorilla glue and there were as many layers of dust on it as layers of family history, with the camera being handed down a couple of generations until it was ultimately phased out by its distant digital cousins. Oh, and the entire lens helicoid assembly, focus ring, front elements and all, rattled back and forth about half an inch. This one was going to be a piece of work.

History

Until this camera I honestly had nearly zero knowledge about Vivitar as a brand, always writing them off as not only a second-rate, but closer to third-rate third-party lens maker from the distant past. A regular in the discount dust bins of used camera stores, I wasn't expecting much from a body/lens package going for $10. Delving deeper into their history proved there was more than met the eye. An American company from California, in the late 30's two partners began importing first German and then later Japanese cameras into the US market. When it came time to expand in the 60's, they created the brand name Vivitar and started to make first their own lens, then bodies as well.

Turns out they were of pretty decent quality too. The design and construction of the lens was contracted to different factories at different times across the US, Europe and Japan. The bodies were made mostly by Cosina of Japan (as far as I could tell). All of these items were know for their great quality at a modest price, sold by the truckloads in department stores from one coast to another. An every man's camera.

Specs

Due to Vivitar not having exactly the same level of cachet as, say Leica, BMW or Apple, there are very few dedicated resources available online that would shed light on the more delicate historical intricacies of this particular product line. Best I could tell, the 220/SL was introduced in the mid 70's and was in production sometime into the early 80's. Was made by Cosina in Japan, ditto for the lens. M42 mount, accepts myriads of other lens spanning multiple decades and budgets.

Marketed as a mid-grade SLR, the package was decidedly minimalistic, save maybe for the light meter. After having handled a few significantly older cameras lately, shutter speeds of 1sec-1/1000sec seemed like a luxury. Bulb and cable release are always welcomed. Knurled knobs and medium stroke winder lever are decently ergonomic, nothing to rant about though. Viewfinder has a split center and circular prism focusing aids. Not sure about coverage, but I'm guessing around the 90% mark. Has a "film is loaded" indicator, might be useful for some, especially with multiple old cameras in circulation (wink wink).

Self timer, rewind knob, light meter activation switch. That's pretty much about it. CLA took longer than expected, all the lens elements were out of whack and the lens needed an entire reconstruction (with subsequent ground-glass-taped-to-film-plane focus calibration). Pentaprism had de-silvered and I could see a Milky Way through the viewfinder, but that requried too much work to fix so that had to be left alone for the time being. Shutter speeds and all related gearing was cleaned of lube-tuned-hard-wax and freshly oiled up and run through click-clack boot camp to bring it in sync. The meter was adjusted to work off the slightly higher voltage due to original spec batteries being discontinued for eons. Nowadays it takes 675 hearing aid batteries.

Design & build quality

This little black SLR’s design is a rather slippery little beast to nail down - split between being a 747 seat buckle on a 70’s Pan Am flight and an 80’s experimental stealthy lunch box for Lockheed F-117 pilots on covert combat sorties. Some might call it a little bland, lacking any embellishments that spearheaded Japanese SLR design of the time (think of the Pininfarina-envy dials and pentaprism housing of Olympus OM-1 and the pre-digital transformer-esque lines, panels and angles of the Canon AE-1), instead aspiring to the stoic looks of a 1981 Buick Century. But, if one does the math, it doesn’t look out of place at all. I quite like it - it’s a product of a less complicated time and a place where heavier meant better quality, and black meant professional. It may be a bit disproportionate here and there, but I enjoy its company. Besides, Mies van der Rohe would probably totally dig it, so it’s cool in my camp.

Where I do have a bone to pick is with the QA department. A little note on Cosina, where both the body and the lens was made in… As much as I respect and admire (nearly to the point of worship) quality products made in the Land of the Rising Sun, Cosina products get very little love from me. They are a company with an interesting history and a knack for innovation and at finding an ever-evolving niche for themselves. But most often that niche is inextricably tied to providing an increased value compared to the competition. I personally feel like they cheap out on the quality. I own a number of modern Voigtlander products (all made by Cosina) and in the short time I’ve had my Bessa R3M I’ve had a meter LED burn out (!) and, wait for it, the rubber grips are starting to unglue all around. Also had a really hard time adjusting the rangefinder (the mechanism was supposedly loctite’d by the factory, but a screw came loose that shouldn’t have anyway). Also have a brand-new Voigtlander VM 40mm f/1.4 Nokton Classic MC and the helicoid jams at times. Why? Also why does the little plastic red mount guide dot on my Voigtlander VM 21mm f/4 come off so easily? Why, oh why?? Now I’m starting to see why people shell out for Leicas (even though they have problems too). I guess Cosina has to cut corners somewhere.

All of this applies to a camera they made 30-40 years ago as well. Chop shops do a better 5-minute paint job on hot cars than this camera has ever been treated to. The shutter speed dial was coming loose. The hot shoe is crooked and the bakelite underneath it is starting to crack. The detent on the meter switch has gotten snuffed out. The pentaprism has started to de-silver. Badly. Heck, even the enamel they used to fill in the embossed lettering on the body has aged worse than the hieroglyphs on King Tut’s tomb. And don’t even get me started on the lens. That thing had more loose parts than a bucket full of loose… bolts. And that says a lot. It certainly cemented my opinion on the quality of used vintage Cosina and Vivitar products.

In use

Angry rants aside, as soon as the CLA was done it was time to put the hefty little slab of black steel to the test. Taken on a couple of street sorties several days apart, I’ve run a couple of rolls through it chronicling a wide gamut of topics, from moody bouts of existential angst in gentrified neighborhoods to an impromptu photo documentary of my niece and nephews’s trip to the zoo.

Mechanically, the camera operations were sound, predictable and relatively smooth. Biggest gripe on the first trip was the supremely dim viewfinder which made focusing possible only via f/8 + scale on lens. This was promptly remedied before the second trip (had to tear the entire top down and give it a hot bath). Focusing accuracy was dramatically improved after that and a reliable f/1.8 became almost within reach.

The meter pulled a total Pinocchio on me every single time I flipped the switch, almost making me regret the $7 I spent on the batteries, but luckily I was able to readjust the meter the second time I went in to clean the viewfinder/prism assembly. Like I said, the voltage of the only modern-day battery that would fit was a bit higher, so the pots inside had to be toned down. Metering is now in-sync with both of my Sekonics, and has a center-weighted pattern. For those curious, the prism houses two CdS cells. But I still relied on my Sekonics every time I pulled the shutter, as early pre-matrix meter tech was very temperamental.

With such a simple camera, there’s not really that much else to write about. It has nothing nostalgic about it for me, as do some of the older cameras I test, and it has no exotic features or form factors which might still pique my interest if all else fails. It is a photographic tool, one that just works. Somewhat clumsy at times, but works. I mean, the camera is just as fun to use for photos as a horse saddle is to sit on. They’re practically invisible. If the camera didn’t have the looks which I still admire, I would almost call the camera character-less. On a side note, I really enjoyed popping the back open with the little lever on the bottom. Haven’t seen that one before.

Image quality

Image quality is something that comes mainly from the lens and film being used. The Fuji Superia 200 that I used both times enjoys the reputation of rather mediocre film stock, with somewhat muted, true-to-life colors but still a somewhat solid, finely-grained structure. I know I can get sharp results from this film. But they were nowhere to be found on either of the two rolls I ran through. And it’s not just the sharpness, which is abysmal at f/1.8 and only becomes decent at f/5.6 (optimal at f/8 then a sudden rollercoaster drop into endless mush) - the contrast is nonexistent. I was really surprised that the lenses on the Made-in-USSR Zenit-B from ’70 and the Argus C3 from good-ol’ 1955 offered more contrast than this Japanese-made lens which might have even had computer input on the optical formula.

No visible distortions, flares irregularly, although appears to have some coating on it. Chromatic aberrations are there, but don’t bother much as long as you embrace the 70’s faded-textbook-color-photo look. Honestly, by the time of the second outing I didn’t care much about the lens anymore or the image character it brings with it (was none), so I just skimmed past the rest of the planned tests. Bokeh is probably the nicest thing about the lens and, at f/1.8, there is generally plenty of it. Not too busy, not too bland - just the right level of blurry pop to bring the center subject truly into focus, just don’t forget to add a generous serving of unsharp mask to start seeing the hair details again.

Conclusions

So, it’s that time again, huh? What do I think of the camera? I look back at the review and notice how I started on a high note and then cycled lower and lower through the octaves, tapping out a brooding baseline in a D minor by the end. That’s how I feel about this camera. It gets you hooked with its looks (all black, must be pro) and heft (very heavy, must be reliable), but then starts to fail at impressing you with every stroke of the winder. Don’t get me wrong - it is a decent camera. If we just look at just the body and discard the almost-legally-blind lens it ships with (no, just no), it actually performs reasonable well and has competitive specs compared to its peers. But the biggest turn-off and the last nail in the coffin for me was the camera’s complete lack of character. This camera seems like it was made for citizens of Lucas’s dystopian THX 1138 or Equilibrium’s Libria, or some other dystopian work of fiction where people aren’t bothered by quaint silly little things like emotions and feelings. It works, just not on an emotional level.

PS: for the (ever so slightly more) money, just get a Canon AE-1 or a beat-up Pentax K-1000.

Sample images

#slr #200/sl #film #analog #35mm #50mm #camera #test #review #vintage #m42 #fuji #superia 200

2 notes · View notes

theloudpedal · 5 years

Text

Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance- All Out of Superlatives

This year marked the 70th Anniversary of the famed Pebble Beach Concours d’Elegance, an event so well known and regarded among automotive types that simply saying “Pebble” is the only indication one needs in order to know the topic of conversation has changed. The Pebble Beach Concours is less of an event and more of a series moments and memories. It’s not typical by any stretch. If you want the full experience, you have to join the Dawn Patrol, which means getting up no later than 4am (if you are in the Monterey Peninsula) and driving through the dark Del Monte Forest, to a far off parking lot. Step two, shuffle along, half addled, in a pre-caffeinated state to the shuttle to the main entrance. (Keep in mind that coffee shops aren’t open that early and that none is for sale at the event till closer to 9:00…you’ve been warned.) From there it’s all down hill, literally, still in the pitch black to the gates of the garden. The light becomes barely visible on the horizon and then is starts. The Dawn Patrol begins its trek to the 18th Green. One by one, they (each entry led by staff in a golf cart) drive in under their own power and take their position for the judging that will occur. From the priceless to the historically significant it is an automotive spectacle unlike any other.

This year was different for us. From the beginning of our Car Week planning, which basically began on the drive home from Pebble Beach last year, we intended to expand our coverage of Car Week but we weren’t 100% sure how to accomplish that with limited time and personnel (us) to do it all. As it turns out though, the solution was with us all the time. It just took us some time come up with a workable plan.

We are pleased and honored to welcome to The Loud Pedal, two of our favorite photographers who both agreed to share with us their Pebble Beach experiences and photos. We were “virtual” fans of Angela Weaver’s general automotive and track photography long before a chance pre-race encounter/meeting at Starbucks began a real friendship that has grown over the last few years. We met and befriended David Barnes at Sears Point over 20 years ago. Over the decades, David evolved from being our big lens hero to a two Leica packing master of composition and detail.

Like we said before, Pebble is not “just” an event. It's a series of moments that rapidly changes as the sun further rises, the fog burns off and the crowds go larger. In order to really “get” the whole event, whether it’s your 1st or 10th time, you must begin by focusing on every minute detail of the event and then take some time to zoom out to see the bigger picture. Please take some time to read Angela’s and David’s reflections on this year’s event, and enjoy the two separate galleries they’ve both prepared.

Angela Weaver (MotorFocused.com) (Instagram):

This was my first dawn patrol, and I was surprised to see how busy it was at 5:30 in the morning. I expected a calm and peaceful atmosphere, but things were in full swing and I felt that I had to get the hunt underway. There was so much energy and excitement. I went on auto pilot and fed off of everyone and every thing that was happening around me.

The Lamborghini Miura was part of the game this year and was one of the featured groupings on the lawn. The Miura has always been one of my favorites. There was a Miura, restored by Polo Storico, that seemed a bit like a Lamborghini that hit an issue of Super Street back in the 90’s. They added everything that they could think of, which made for a very interesting addition to the show.

I was surprisingly intrigued by a 1910 Packard 30 Gentleman’s Roadster. It had been well used, and exuded character from every seam. I initially assumed that it was unrestored, but discovered that it was restored 60 years ago. It featured a bronze horn, a well worn top, chipped wooden wheels, and kerosene side lights! It is so far beyond my automotive imagination, I felt like I was in a movie.

Venturing up from the lawn, outside of the show, the Ferrari display left me speechless. Just when you thought that it couldn’t get any better…..there were two 250 GTO’s, parked side by side, just as they were in Le Mans in 1963.

I had a personal connection to the F40 in the Ferrari display, because I had gone on an adventure prior to car week to release it from it’s shipping container. I’d also had the opportunity earlier in the week to photograph an Alfa GTV for Revival Road Co., and a friend was unloading an F40 that he was storing that had just arrived in a shipping container. It was a challenge to say the least.

There were literally only a few inches on each side of the car as it sat in the container. The shipper had nailed boards in front of, and behind each tire. Of course, the battery was dead. We had to find a way to remove the nailed boards, obviously without damaging the car. None of us had previous experience with a F40, so it took a while to figure anything out, down to opening the clam shells to better access the boards. About 1 hour 15 in, we finally started to roll it out of the container. There were additional challenges with the ramps, and finally we found a second battery switch, turned it on, and it roared to life. It was as beautiful as the project to release it had been stressful. It’s not every day that you need to squeeze an F40 out of a container.

Back to the concours. It’s interesting to watch all the participants prepare their cars after the drive in. All of the attention to detail is fascinating. Brushes to the tire tread and between each wire in the engine bay…I feel like I would never think of everything, but Pebble reveals many things that were never thought of before. I have such a massive amount of respect for the people that chose to enter a car to be judged and the commitment that it takes.

Angela Weaver Gallery

David Barnes (Instagram)

This year, TLP challenged us to find ways to make our readers gasp in awe and be pulled into the images gently, but firmly by both lapels. This series of images offer the viewer a glimpse not often captured at the world’s preeminent automotive event.

The high perspective conveys the magnitude of the Pebble Beach Concours. Like gravitational pull from a large celestial object, this 195X Ferrari drew the admiration from what seemed like the entire 18th green.

My heart skipped a beat taking in the lines of this 1956 Ferrari 250GT Zagato Berlinetta Speciale (GTZ), with trademark Zagato Double-Bubble roof. Just six of these cars were produced, and only 3 featured the Zagato Double-Bubble roof. The chassis was from a Ferrari 250 TdF.

Many consider this Aston Martin amongst the most gobsmacking Zagato designs of the 1960s, and place it on their list as unmitigated perfection on wheels. In this era, Aston Martin desired a car that could rival the Ferrari 250GT in the Word Sports Car Championship, so they put the team at Zagato to task. A 1962 Aston Martin DB4GT Zagato became the most expensive British car when sold at auction in 2015 for an astonishing £9.45 million. Only 19 DB4GT’s were produced by Zagato.

David Barnes Gallery

Cover Image: Copyright David Barnes, 2019

Well, we hope you have enjoyed these words and images from this year’s event. We’re grateful for our friends, their talents and their reflections, which enabled us to still share the magic of the Pebble and to change up our Car Week routine a little. We obviously missed one helluva show and we’re looking forward to next year’s event. We can’t overstate enough the majesty and magic of Pebble Beach during Car Week at a time where it has to compete with dozens of events that hit the peninsula during the weekend. As much as the participants strive, sometimes for a lifetime to be accepted in the show, being spectator is just as exclusive. Until next year.

-The Loud Pedal

#Pebble Beach #Car week

0 notes

marshallkappel · 7 years

Photo

Pages turning Pages torn and pages burning Faded pages, open in the sun #tucson #arizona #sun #light #shadow #selfportrait #wandering #change #leica #leicacamera #leicaq http://ift.tt/2y55img

#cycling #racing #france #editorial #design #print #pro #procycling #velo #cyclisme #cyclingphotos

0 notes

anavoliselenu · 7 years

Text

Relese me chapter 12

“Your father did nothing?” The anger in Stark’s voice is palpable.

“I don’t know my dad. They divorced when I was a baby. He lives somewhere in Europe now. I almost told my grandfather once, but I never quite worked up the courage before he died.”

“That horrific bitch.” He spits out the word, and though I completely agree, I can feel social niceties rising to my lips, as if I have to find excuses for my mother.

I tamp them down. “My sister tried to help.” I smile as I remember the way Ashley used to shine a light under the crack in my door and read me stories until I got sleepy. At least until our mother found out.

“She didn’t have to have her beauty sleep, too?”

“She didn’t win enough, so my mom eventually quit entering her in pageants.” The freedom had given Ashley time. It had given her back her life. I had adored my big sister, who’d always been my guardian angel, but I’d been incredibly jealous, too. I used to think she was the lucky one.

And then she’d killed herself.

I shiver. “I really don’t want to talk about it anymore,” I say.

He doesn’t acknowledge my words, but after a moment he speaks again. “I thought I knew a bit about photography, but I guess I know less than I thought. I always assumed some light was allowed in.”

I glance sideways at him, grateful for his discretion. He’s stepped away from my personal issues with the dark, but kept the thread of our original conversation. “At a certain point in the process, yes,” I say, letting my fears and memories fade under the weight of a subject I love. “And a red or amber safelight is common when making black and white prints because most of the papers are sensitive only to blue or blue-green light. But if you’re working with color like I usually do, then the prints need to be kept in total darkness until they’re properly fixed.”

I shrug. “It’s really not a big deal. Access to a darkroom is expensive and doing your own developing eats up a lot of time. One of these days I’ll get a digital camera, but in the meantime, I send my film out and get back a contact sheet along with all the pictures on disk. Then I sit down and play with the images in my native environment.”

“The computer?” he asks, grinning.

“Ever since I got my first one at age ten,” I confirm. I don’t tell him that the computer was my escape. I could turn it on and tell my mother I was doing homework, then lose myself in games and later in writing my own code. For a week or so, I’d even used the screen as a nightlight, but my mother caught on. My mother never missed a thing.

“Doing photographic work on the computer is like holding magic in your hand,” I say. “I mean, I could take a picture of you and then find stock footage of the surface of the moon and make it look like you’re standing in space.” I grin wickedly. “Or I could put your head on the body of monkey.”

“I’m not sure that would show me off to my best advantage.”

I have to agree. “No, it wouldn’t.”

“That’s one of the apps you have for sale, isn’t it?” he asks.

I blink, surprised he knows about that. I’ve designed, coded, and am selling three smartphone apps across various platforms. I designed them while I was at UT, though not for any particular class. Turns out there’s actually a market for apps that allow you to paste a headshot onto a provided stock animal photo, then share the new image across various social media.

“How did you know about that?” I ask. That app is reasonably popular, but it’s not bringing in so much money that it would be on Stark’s radar.

“I make it a point to know everything I can about the things I care about.” He’s looking at me as he speaks, and there’s no mistaking that he means me and not the app. I don’t know why I’m surprised. Justin never misses a thing, either.

I smile, feeling flattered but also exposed. I can’t help but wonder what other things he knows about me. How deep has he looked? Considering the resources at Justin Stark’s disposal, he could have looked pretty damn deep, and that truism gives me pause.

If he notices my mood this time, he ignores it. “I’ve always thought of science as magic, too,” he says, returning to the thread of our conversation. “Though not just computer science.”

“I was pretty impressed with your questions during the pitch,” I say. His questions had covered the technical aspects of the software design as well as the anatomical components, reflecting an understanding of both tech and basic anatomy. “What did you study in college?”

“I didn’t go to college,” he says. “For that matter, I didn’t go to school. I had private tutors from the time I was ten. My coach insisted, and my father agreed.”

An unfamiliar edge sharpens his voice, and although I want to know more, it’s clear I’ve stumbled upon a sore subject. “So, do you know much about photography?” I ask, grappling for a shift in the conversation. I remember the photos in his reception area. “Did you take the pictures outside your office?”

“I know just enough to be dangerous,” he says lightly, and I’m glad of the change in mood. “And no. I tried to find photos that represent my hobbies. Those are done by a local photographer. He has a studio in Santa Monica, actually.”

“He’s very skilled. His use of contrast and perspective is stunning.”

“I agree, and I’m flattered you thought I might be the photographer.”

I shift in my seat to look at him better. “Well, you are a remarkably talented man. And very full of surprises.”

His decadent grin is pure Justin, promising more surprises to come, and I feel an answering tingle between my thighs.

I drop my eyes and clear my throat. “Your hobbies, huh? So there were photographs of the ocean, some mountains, redwoods, and a bike tire. I’m guessing sailing, skiing, I have no idea, and biking.”

“Not bad. The ocean represents diving and the trees are for hiking. Other than that, you got it right. Any of those appeal to you, Ms. Fairchild?”

“All of them,” I admit. “Although I’ve never tried diving. Not many opportunities in Texas.”

“California has excellent diving,” he says. “Though a wetsuit is a bit cumbersome. I much prefer the warmer waters of the Caribbean. There,” he says, pointing out the window.

It takes me a second to switch gears, but then I see that he’s pointing to Santa Barbara.

“I’ll need to put her into the landing pattern soon, but why don’t you take control for a bit.”

“What?” I clear my throat and try that again without squeaking. “I’m sorry, but what?”

“It’s easy,” he says, releasing his hold on the wheel. He reaches over and takes my hand. The contact burns through me—why do I feel this man’s every touch so intensely? Right then, I wish I didn’t, because he’s putting my hands on the wheel and I’m supposed to keep this plane in the air, and he’s making it really hard to concentrate.

“Oh, fuck,” I say as he lets go of my hand. “Shit, Stark! What am I supposed to do?”

“You’re doing it. Just keep her steady. Push in, we descend. Pull out, we climb. Go ahead, pull out gently.”

I do nothing.

He laughs. “Go on. Give it a try.”

This time I do, and then gasp with pleasure as the plane responds to my command.

“I like that sound,” Justin says. “I think I need to hear that sound on the ground.” He puts his thumb on my cheek and strokes it softly. This time, I try very hard not to make a sound. “There you go, baby. Okay, steady it out.”

His hand grazes down my neck and rests on my shoulder. He squeezes it lightly. “Good job.”

My breathing is coming fast, and I’m not sure if it’s the exhilaration from the flight or from the man. “I am flying,” I say. “I am really flying.”

“Yes,” he says. “And you will again.”

We’re the only guests on the terrace dining area at the Santa Barbara Pearl Hotel on Bank Street. We’re just a few blocks from the ocean, and from where we sit, we can see the pier at Stearns Wharf and, in the distance, the Channel Islands rising like sea creatures from the water.

I’m sipping a white chocolate martini, and I’m pleasantly full after a lunch of raw oysters and stuffed salmon. “This is amazing,” I say. “How did you find this place?”

“It wasn’t difficult,” he says. “I own the hotel.”

I don’t know why I’m surprised. “Is there anything you don’t own, Mr. Stark?”

He reaches out and takes my hand. “At the moment, everything I want is mine.”

I take a sip of the martini to hide my reaction.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Fairchild. I take very good care of the things I own.”

My cheeks flush, and I’m suddenly very aware of my body, especially the parts below my waist. I savor the feeling, because the truth is that I’m a little afraid he’s going to want to back out of our deal once he gets a full view of the condition of the merchandise.

A man in a tailored suit steps onto the terrace and approaches us. He’s carrying a white shopping bag, which he hands to Justin. “This just arrived for you, Mr. Stark.”

“Thank you, Richard.”

As Richard leaves, Justin passes me the bag. “I believe this is for you.”

“Really?” I put the bag in my lap, peer into it, and gasp. It’s a Leica, shiny and new.

I look to Justin and see his wide, delighted grin. “You like? It’s digital. Top of the line.”

“It’s wonderful.” I laugh. “You’re amazing, Mr. Stark. You just blink and things happen.”

“A bit more than a blink, but it was worth the extra effort. How else will you get shots of the beach today?”

I stand and walk to the edge of the terrace. “I can see the ocean from here, but not much of the beach.”

“The view will be better when we’re walking on it.”

I lift my foot and show off my pumps with the two-inch heels. “I don’t think I’m dressed for the occasion.”

The ankle bracelet sparkles in the sun. He runs his finger over it, the heat from his skin radiating over mine.

“It’s beautiful,” I say.

“Beauty for beauty,” he replies. “The emeralds match your eyes.”

I smile, delighted. “I’m feeling showered with gifts lately.”

“Good. You deserve to be. And that’s not a gift,” he says, brushing his finger over the bracelet. “It’s a bond … and a promise.” He’s looking right at me as he speaks, and my cheeks heat with a blush.

“I don’t want to miss walking on the beach with you,” I admit. My words come out a whisper. “I can go barefoot.”

He chuckles. “You could. But have you looked under the camera box?”

“Under?” I go back to the table and pull out the box. Sure enough, there’s something else there, wrapped in blue tissue paper. I look at him, but his expression gives nothing away. Slowly, I pull out the tissue paper. Whatever’s hidden is flat and firm. I peel back the paper until I reveal a pair of black flip-flops. I look up at Justin and grin.

“For walking on the beach,” he says.

“Thank you.”

“Anything you want. Anything you need.”

“Not everything can be bought,” I say.

“No,” he agrees, and he’s looking hard at me. “But I stand by my promise.”

His words twist deliciously inside me, and I’m saved from answering by our waiter’s entrance. We return to the table for coffee and a chocolate lava cake that is so perfect I wish I’d let Justin order two instead of insisting that I only wanted a few bites.

“What else did you do this weekend?” I ask him.

“I worked.”

“Earn another billion?”

“Not quite, but the time was profitable. And you?”

“Laundry,” I admit. “And we went dancing Saturday night.”

“We?”

“Ollie,” I say. “And my roommate, Jamie.”

His expression is tense. Is that jealousy? I think maybe it is, and I’m just petty or vain or something enough to be a little bit glad of that.

“Shall I take you dancing this week?”

“I’d like that,” I say.

“Where did you go with Jamie and Ollie?”

“Westerfield’s,” I tell him. “It’s that new place on Sunset close to the St. Regis.”

“Mmm.” He looks thoughtful. I’m guessing that loud clubs aren’t his thing.

“Too wild for you?” I ask. “That harsh beat? Those bright lights?” I know he’s only thirty, but he usually seems so much older. I wonder if he belongs to a ballroom dancing club. Surely they have those in Los Angeles. I consider the idea, thinking of all the movies I’ve watched with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. Yeah, I could handle dancing like that in Justin’s arms.

“Did you like Westerfield’s?”

“I did. But, you know, I just left college, and Austin has a lot of clubs. So the loud music and the heavy beat don’t really—” I stop, suddenly aware of the amused expression on his face. I feel my shoulders slope as I figure it out. “You own the place, don’t you?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Hotels. Clubs. What happened to your little technology empire?”

“Empires are often widespread,” he says. “I believe there’s strength in having a varied portfolio. And my empire is not little at all.”

“I pegged you wrong,” I admit.

“Did you?”

“I was picturing us as Fred and Ginger. When you take me dancing, I mean. But I’m okay with a nasty little bump and grind, too.” I give him my most flirtatious smile and am shocked at myself for doing so. I blame it on the martini. Well, the martini and the man.

He smiles enigmatically, then stands and crosses the terrace. I see him fiddling with something on the wall. A moment later, I hear music. It’s “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes,” one of my favorite Astaire and Rogers numbers. He returns to me with his hand out. “Ms. Fairchild, may I have this dance?”

My throat constricts and my pulse races wildly as he pulls me up and into his arms. I’m not a good dancer, but with Justin leading I feel like I’m floating. We glide over the terrace, his hand on my back as light as a feather. And when the music ends, he pulls me close and bends me backward, smiling down at me with devilish intent.

I’m breathless, my chest rising and falling in his arms. His lips hover over mine, and I find myself unable to think of anything but the way his lips would feel pressed against mine. The touch of his mouth. Of his tongue.

“Is there something on your mind, Ms. Fairchild?”

“No.”

He lifts an eyebrow, and I hear his voice in my head. No lies.

“I just—I was just wondering.”

“Wondering what?” He eases me up, and our bodies are pressed close. Hips touching. My breasts against his chest, my hard nipples revealing my arousal. “Tell me,” he whispers, his lips grazing my ear and making me shiver with desire.

“I was wondering if you were going to kiss me.”

He turns his head slowly, then looks me in the eye. I want to lose myself in the heat I see there, and my lips part in anticipation of a kiss.

“No,” he says, and then he takes a single step away from me.

I blink, confused. No?

His smile is wicked. “No,” he repeats. And that’s when I understand. He’s punishing me for pulling back in his office. “Our week begins when you arrive for your first sitting.”

“Tonight?” I ask.

“At six.”

I nod, disappointed but excited.

His hand slides down the curve of my ass over the thin material of my skirt. “And, Selena,” he adds, “don’t bother wearing underwear. You really won’t need any.”

I swallow and realize I’m already wet with anticipation.

Oh. Fucking. My.

I hang the Leica around my neck, but we leave the rest of our stuff with Richard and exit the back door of the hotel, following a path that takes us past the pool, an outdoor dining area, and then the tennis courts. Two couples are playing doubles, laughing and teasing each other as they miss most every stroke.

“Not a lot of hotels have courts,” I say. “Was that your idea?”

“The courts were here when I bought the place,” Justin says. It may be my imagination, but I think he’s begun to walk faster. I, however, am slowing down. There’s a bench just off the courts, and I pause there, my hands on the backrest. I’m looking at the players, but I’m imagining Justin on the court. His legs taut and tanned. His broad shoulders and strong arms. His jaw tight with determination.

After a moment, I feel him come up behind me. “We should go,” he says. “I want to show you the wharf, and I need to be back in the office by three.”

“Oh. Sure. I forgot.” I take his hand and we continue walking, leaving the hotel grounds and then strolling past the charming stucco houses on Mason Street.

“Do you miss it?” I ask, as we turn right off Mason into a small, green park. Ahead of us is the beach and the Pacific Ocean, shining blue-green in the afternoon sun. “Tennis, I mean.”

“No.” His answer is flat, without any hesitation or guile. Even so, I don’t quite believe him, and I say nothing, hoping that he will elaborate. After a few more moments, he does. “At first, I loved it. But after a while, the fun went out of the game. There was too much baggage.”

“The competition?” I ask. “Maybe you could get the fun back if you just played. I’m terrible, but we could hit a ball around sometime.”

“I don’t play anymore,” he says. His tone is hard and firm, and doesn’t mirror my light suggestion at all.

“Okay.” I lift a shoulder in a casual shrug. It’s obvious I’ve touched a nerve, and I’m not quite sure how to get the flirtatious, laughing Justin back. “I’m sorry.”

He looks at me sideways, then exhales, as if in frustration. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry.” He smiles, and I see the ice starting to melt, revealing nice underneath. “It’s just that I’m done with tennis. Like you’re done with pageants. You don’t compete anymore, do you?”

I laugh. “Hell no. But there’s a difference. I never thought it was fun.” Dammit, I should have kept my mouth shut. I don’t want him icing over again.

But he’s not icy at all. He’s looking at me with interest. “Never?”

“Never,” I say. “Well, maybe when I was little I liked the dressing up. I honestly don’t remember. But, no, I don’t think I liked it even then. I can’t remember feeling like anything other than my mother’s personal Barbie doll.”

“And dolls don’t have a life of their own,” he says.

“No, they don’t,” I say, pleased that he understands so well. “Did your parents push you to play?” I’m edging up against a sore point, but I want to get to know this man better.

We’ve reached the end of the park, and he takes my hand as we cross Cabrillo Boulevard. We reach the beach and walk in silence toward the surf. I’ve pretty much decided that I’m not going to get an answer when Justin finally speaks.

“At first I liked it. Loved it, actually. I was so damn young, but even then I loved the precision and the timing. And the power. Damn, I could hit that ball. It was a crappy year—my mother was sick—and I took out all my frustration on the court.”

I nodded. I got that. When I was younger, I lost myself in the computer or behind a camera. It was only when that stopped being enough that I started cutting. Somehow, everyone finds a way to cope. I think of Ashley and bite back a frown. They find a way—or they don’t.

“I started staying after school and the gym teacher coached me, but pretty soon he said that I’d blown past him. My dad worked in a factory and I knew that we couldn’t afford a coach, but that was okay. I was a kid, only eight, and I just wanted to play for fun.”

“What changed?”

“The teacher knew my mom was sick and that we couldn’t afford lessons. He mentioned me to a friend, and before I knew it this local pro was working with me, free of charge. I loved it, especially when I started winning tournaments. You might have noticed that I’m slightly competitive.”

“You? I’m flabbergasted.” I take off my flip-flops and dangle them from my fingers so that I can kick my toes in the surf. Justin is already barefoot, having left his shoes with Richard at the hotel. I don’t think many men could walk barefoot on a beach in a tailored suit and look damned sexy doing it, but Justin does. It was like a reflection of his confidence. That whatever he wanted, he would simply take.

Like me.

Pleasure trills up my spine, and I smile. Despite its rather crappy beginning, this is turning out to be an exceptional day.

There are a few people on the beach, but it’s a weekday and not very crowded. Even so, the sand has been picked clean, and I can’t find one decent shell, just bits and pieces, but the ripples that the water leaves as it surges in and out are beautiful in their precision. I drop the shoes so that I can take the lens cap off and focus, wanting a shot that includes the ridged sand and the white froth of the waves.

Justin waits until the shutter clicks, then hooks his arms around my waist. I feel the light pressure of his chin against my head. “Will you tell me the rest?” I ask. “What changed for you?”

“Success,” he says darkly.

I turn in his arms. “I don’t understand.”

“I got good enough to attract a bastard of a professional coach.” His tone is so low and biting it gives me chills. “He made a deal with my father—he’d train me for a percentage of my prize money.”

I nodded; his first professional coach had been in the Wikipedia article I’d read. They’d worked together from the time Justin was nine until he was fourteen. That’s when his coach had committed suicide. Apparently he was cheating on his wife.

I can’t help but think of Ashley, and I don’t want to raise those kinds of ghosts for Justin. Instead, I ask, “Did competing make it shift from fun to work?”

Justin’s face darkens and the change is so quick and so dramatic that I actually look up to see if something overhead cast a real shadow. But it is just him. Just the reflection of his own emotions. “I don’t mind hard work,” he says flatly. “But everything changed when I was nine.” There’s a harshness in his voice that I don’t understand. It occurs to me that he hasn’t answered my question.

“What happened?”

“I told my father I wanted to quit, but I was already earning prize money, and he said no.”

I squeeze his hand. Once again, he’s evaded my question, but I don’t press. How can I when evasion is an art I know well?

“I tried to get out again about a year later. I was playing all over the country by then, internationally, too. I was missing so damn much school that my dad just hired tutors. I focused mostly on science, and I loved it. I read everything I could on every subject, from astronomy to physics to biology. And fiction. Man, I ate up sci-fi novels. I even secretly applied to a private science academy. They not only accepted me, they offered me a full scholarship.”

I lick my lips. I’ve figured out where this is going. How could I not see the way the story was developing? We are so alike, he and I. Our childhoods ripped from us and driven by the whims of a parent. “Your parents said no.”

“My father did,” Justin says. “My mother had died a year earlier. It was—” He draws in a breath, then reaches down to collect my shoes. We start walking down the beach again, heading for the massive pier that makes up Stearns Wharf. “I was ripped up the year she died. Numb. I let it all out on the court. All the anger, the betrayal.” His jaw is tight with the memory. “Hell, it’s probably why I played so damn good.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, and my words sound hollow. “I knew you were attracted to the sciences. All anyone has to do is look at the businesses you’re in. But I never realized it was a lifelong fascination.”

“Why would you?”

I tilt my head up to eye him. “You’re not exactly a blank slate, Mr. Stark. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re something of a celebrity. You’ve even got a Wikipedia page. But there’s nothing on it about turning down a scholarship to a science academy.”

His mouth tightens into a thin line. “I’ve worked hard to keep my past off the Internet and away from the press.”

I think about what Evelyn said about Justin learning to control the press at a young age. Apparently, she was right. I wonder what other bits and pieces of his life Justin Stark has kept close to the vest.

I lift the camera and look through the viewfinder, aiming it first at the sea, and then at Justin, who puts up his hands as if to ward me off. I laugh and snap a few images in quick succession. “Bad girl,” he says, and I laugh more.

“You bought the camera,” I say. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

“Oh, no,” he says, and he’s laughing now, too. I dance backward as he lunges for me. I’m happy to see him smiling again and the melancholy of visiting the past fading from his eyes. I lift the camera and take another set of shots.

“And she keeps piling on the punishment,” he says, following his words with a tsk-tsk noise.

I let the camera hang from its strap as I raise my hands in mock surrender. “I’m a free agent today, remember.”

His grin is positively devilish. “I may not be allowed to act on it,” he says, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t keep a list for future reference.”

“Oh, really?” I snap another picture of him. “If I’m going to be punished anyway, it might as well be worth it.”

His expression is all heat and promise. “I assure you I’ll be very thorough.”

“Of course, I don’t think you’re being very equitable. I mean, fair is fair. You’re going to have a portrait of me. I think I should have some photos of you.”

“Nice try,” he says. “But the punishment stands.”

I ease in close to him and slide my arm around his neck. Only the bulk of the camera is keeping us apart, and I’m suddenly enveloped in the heat of him. I lift myself up on my tiptoes so that I can whisper in his ear. “What would you say if I told you I was looking forward to it?”

He stands completely still, but as I ease back, I see a single muscle in his cheek twitch. It’s not much, but it’s enough. I’ve surprised Justin Stark. More than that, I’ve turned him on.

With a light laugh, I skip back, overflowing with feminine self-satisfaction.

We’ve reached the wharf, but we don’t go out onto it. Instead, we turn around and head back down the beach toward Bath Street and the hotel. As we walk, I take a few snaps of the Channel Islands, then manage to get an excellent shot of two seagulls flying so close together they look like one creature. We’ve almost returned back the length of the beach when Justin settles on a bench. I think I see a sand dollar and squat in the sand in front of him.

“I’m looking forward to tonight, Ms. Fairchild,” he says, his voice ripe with quiet urgency. He’s looking right at me, and I see the heat in his eyes that has become familiar to me. “It’s hard to be so close to something so precious and know you don’t yet possess it.”

“Possess?” I repeat.

His grin is slow and confident. “Possess. Have. Hold. Enjoy. Control. Dominate. Pick your verb, Ms. Fairchild. I intend to explore so very many of them.”

ar��/

0 notes