When we got back to my house, the fair seemed like a dream—bright and chaotic, but distant now. I kicked off my shoes, sinking into the couch with a sigh of relief.
Brent followed, his camera bag slung over his shoulder, and flopped into the armchair across from me. “Tired already?”
I shot him a look. “You dragged me around that fair for hours. Of course I’m tired.”
He laughed, pulling out his camera. “You’re going to love me for this later.”
“For what?” I asked warily.
He grinned, holding up the camera. “For letting me take your picture.”
I groaned, throwing a pillow at him. “Brent, no. Enough pictures for one day.”
“Not like this,” he said, catching the pillow and tossing it aside. “This one’s for you, Betty. To show you how I see you.”
His words made my stomach flip in a way I didn’t want to analyze.
“Fine,” I said, sitting up. “But if you make me look like a potato, we’re done.”
“You’re not a potato,” he said, smirking as he adjusted the settings on his camera. “Now, just relax.”
I tried to, but the way his gaze lingered on me made it impossible.
“Close your eyes,” he said softly.
I did, and the shutter clicked, the sound sharp and intimate in the quiet room.
When I opened my eyes, he was closer, his expression serious as he showed me the screen.
The girl in the photo didn’t look like me—not the me I saw in the mirror, anyway. She looked confident, like she belonged in front of the camera instead of hiding from it.
“See?” Brent said, his voice low. “This is you, Betty.”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe.
Before I could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that was soft and deliberate.
The stuffed bear fell to the floor, forgotten, as the kiss deepened, his hands sliding to my waist and pulling me closer.
For once, I didn’t overthink it. I just let myself feel.