Through The Lens (6 page)

My Dad unfolded himself
from his usual lone chair in the room. “Jessa, baby, when am I not nice?”  His
feature schooled into a cool façade that made me shiver.  There was no way
around this.   Dad had a way of making guys feel super small, at least that’s
what I’d seen him do on a number of occasions to the lame boys Jenna brought
home.  My nerd of a Dad became papa bear when boys tried to approach his
daughters.  This was my turn and a first for me.  And I had a feeling my Dad
had hoped that this day would never come.  With his glasses high up on his nose
and lips in a tight line, he looked especially menacing.

Back at the front door,
I opened it, ushering Ethan inside and hoping to get this over quickly. He took
a tentative step.  I think he thought I might shut the door in his face again. 
I wanted to laugh because he usually seemed to have the upper hand with me,
making me feel out of my element. Though it wasn't a bad feeling, it was just a
tiny bit of guilt for being rude. Though the apology firmly stayed in my mouth.

“Ethan,” I began, in
the living once again,  “this is my father, Tom Shelby.”

Give the boy an A for
manners.  He held out his hand and said, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Shelby.”  He
gave my Dad a firm handshake.

“You too, Ethan,” he said
sternly. “I just  have one question.” Dad had his own form of dramatics while
we waited with baited breath for his words. “What are your intentions towards
my daughter?”

Looking back, I wish I
would have caught Ethan’s expression.  Instead, I had my face in my own hands
saying, “Dad, he’s just a friend.  I’m friends with his girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Dad said,
quickly, his voice loosing that edge.  “Well, what do you two have planned for
tonight?”

Not wanting Ethan to be
put on the spot, I said, “Dad, I told you that Ethan was going to show me how
to develop film.”  Crap, that reminded me. I’d left my camera upstairs. 

“I forgot something,” I
said, giving Ethan an apologetic look.

Turning, my Dad said,
“So where do you live?”  I found myself taking the stairs two at a time and
running like a cross-country runner to get my camera and get back downstairs
before my Dad asked for a blood sample.

I was back in under a
minute, but upon my return I found my Dad and Ethan laughing.  I wanted to wipe
sweat from my brow for dodging the bullet, but thankfully I wasn’t yet sweating. 
Running a couple miles every day had me in serious shape.

“I’m ready,” I
announced.  But then Jenna made her way downstairs.  Turning back to Ethan, I
saw the starry-eyed look all boys got when looking at my sister.  She wasn’t
Allie, but she was beautiful.

“So, you must be
Ethan,” she said, appraising him.

“Yeah,” he said.  A
smirk formed on his face, and he looked at me. I didn’t have time to look away
before he caught the fact that I‘d been watching for his reaction to my
sister.   Smiling, I reminded myself there was nothing to be jealous about. 
Ethan wasn’t mine.

“I’m Jenna,” she said, giving
him a little wave.

“Ethan,” he said
confidently, the smirk still there.  My Dad took that time to tell Ethan to
have me home by midnight.  My sister fidgeted, bringing my attention back to
her. She mouthed, OMG, when Ethan’s back was turned  I merely rolled my eyes in
turn.

Once we were finally
outside, I looked around for Ethan’s car but saw none. “Did you park down the
street?” I asked.

“Nope,” he said,
tilting his head toward a killing machine.

In front of me was freaking
motorcycle.  Everyone knows that TV and books glorify the death trap on wheels,
but I didn’t relish it.  Dad would have a heart attack if he saw it.  So I
leaped towards the machine like I really wanted to ride.

“We should go then,” I
said a little too quickly.

It was classic black
with shiny chrome, and I had to admit it was a bit sexy.  Ethan strapped on a
helmet to my head, and I had to mentally count to 100 so I could breathe with
him so close.

He got on and said,
“Hop on.”

“What about your
helmet?” I asked.

“You’re wearing it,” he
said.

“But,” I responded.

“It’s cool.  It’s not
that long of a drive, and I don’t plan on wrecking.”

Shaking my head, I
hesitated. My brain had caught up with my fear. “I don’t know,” I said,
painfully.

Turning and dragging me
closer to the bike, he said, “Jess, I won’t ever let you fall.”  His words sent
unwanted shivers through me. 

Then I was riding down
the streets of my neighborhood, with my arms wrapped around him. My camera was
strapped around my neck, wedged on the side of my body.  My arms were tightened
around his midsection when we took a turn.  My head rested on his back out of
fear.  It was like a waking dream because there no way was this happening.

When we slowed down long enough for me
to see the front of a monstrosity of a house, I wanted to  pinch myself. Obviously,
I was still dreaming.  This house—no, a better term was estate—sat perched far
from the street with an expansive lawn that looked freshly cut.  In fact, I
could smell the lawn like it was a paper air freshener pressed to my nose.

The estate was built
with large gray stones and looked like it was three stories high.  Turning, we
followed the long driveway up to an open garage at the side where Ethan pulled
to a stop.  My house had a garage large enough for two cars.  This garage had
at least enough room for four, if not more.

Holding his hand out, I
took the hint and got off using his arm for support.

My mouth must have been
agape, because he stood before me now and said, “It’s a bit much, huh?”

Trying to wrap my mind
around the fact that Ethan was loaded, I nodded.  “You’re just lucky,” I said,
weakly.

“Definitely not,” he muttered
and led me up a short flight of stairs and into the immense house.

Not sure what I
expected, maybe that the inside would be as dazzling as the outside.  What I
got was a hollow feeling.  Even with rubber-soled shoes, it felt like our footsteps
echoed along the long hallway.  Nothing was on the walls. Each room we passed
seemed just as devoid of anything that would suggest someone even lived in this
house  

Ethan stopped and
gestured me inside a room.  It was large, just like the rest seemed, but this
one had a sofa and large screen TV. 

We sat on the sofa. 
With nothing else to say and knowing something needed to be said, I uttered,
“So where did everyone go?”  I added a nervous laugh by mistake.

 “The rest is in
California with my Mom,” he said.  “Do you want something to drink?” 

His question was
probably meant to cut off my line of questioning, but no one could say that I
was thinking rationally. “Are you moving?” I asked.  His words sent panic
through me even though I didn’t know this guy.  I could only hope he hadn’t
caught the alarm in my voice.

“No,” he said. “I’m
finishing my school year here, then it’s off to college.” He spoke
matter-of-factly.

 “So your Mom just left
you here all alone.  How do you eat?  Laundry?” I asked, feeling a
self-righteous indignation on his behalf.

Arching an eyebrow, he
said, “My Mom leaving was probably for the best.” Feeling like a blameless
protestor with a cause, I wondered how long had he been living this way?  Were
there child safety laws about this?  But he was probably seventeen or eighteen,
so I doubted they applied. “As for the rest, I can take care of myself.”

Since he didn’t really
answer me, I left it alone.  It wasn’t my business anyway. My silence while I
processed his information gave him the opportunity to change the subject. 
“Have you finished the roll of film?”

I’d only halfway
finished taking pictures.  Feeling like a fraud, I didn’t admit that I’d come
under false pretenses.  But then again, he had talked me into coming over.

Holding out his hand,
he said slyly, “Hand it over, Blondie.”

Knowing the jig was up,
I swept the thick collar of the strap over my head and slowly handed him what
now felt like my most prized possession. 

Standing up, he walked
a few steps away, taking close inspection of the ancient relic that was my
Dad’s camera.  “Fair is fair,” he said, giving me my only warning.

Then without further
ado, the camera was pointed at me.  I couldn’t help the smile that crept over
my face before I could get my hand up to block his shot. Click. I heard the
shutter capture me.  My hand now firmly in front of my face, he ducked down
faster than a guy as tall as he should.

Click. The camera went
again, and he’d gotten what I thought must be a shot up my nose.  Twisting the
lens, he was changing the shot, regardless of what I did to try to hide
myself.  “You shouldn’t hide.  It’s just you and me.”  That wasn’t a reminder
that I needed.  One thing I was sure of was that we were alone. “Let me take
your picture,” he said, his voice going low and turning my insides to mush.

Remembering Madison’s
advice just to have fun, I couldn’t help but laugh and gave into the moment. Click.
I threw my head back like life was a complete loss for me. Click. My forearm
was planted to my forehead.  Click. “Yes, Miss Scarlett,” Ethan said.  That
caught me off guard.  What guy knew about
Gone with the Wind
. “How do
you know about that movie?” 

The shutter stopped,
and he pulled away from behind the lens. “My Mom was a big film buff.  She used
to make Dad and me watch old black-and-white movies on her birthday and
Mother’s Day.”

Feeling like I’d again
stepped on eggshells I didn’t see lying in the room, I went for something
safe.  I started pantomiming a frightened girl.  He laughed wholeheartedly, and
I felt better.  The mood was lightened. “Slasher girl, are you now?”

On the edge of my seat,
(click) I leaped up and began walking the room twirling (click) and changing
direction. Click.  My legs were like staccatos on the floor, sharp and precise.
Click. Click. Click. “
Project Runway
,” he said.  “You’re a natural.”

For a moment, I
thought, does that mean he thinks I’m pretty?  Click. But I pushed that thought
away. Click. Talking, even though I continued my model impersonation, I said,
“And how do you know that show?” Click.

“Allie likes it.”

“Sounds to me like
women rule your life.” Oops, I hadn’t just said that.  I stopped what I was
doing, feeling like I stuck my foot in mouth.

Being a trooper, he
dropped his hands.  “When it benefits me,” he said, his eyes half closed,
appraising me.

Trying not to squirm
under his scrutiny, I blurted, “How much more film do you have left?”  I hadn’t
kept count. 

“We were done a while
ago,” he said, smirking.

Feeling indignant, I
plucked a pillow from the sofa and marched over to him. Slapping him lightly
over the head, I said, “That was just wrong.”

Ducking, he laughed. 
When I began to walk away, I heard the distinct sound that said he’d put the
camera down.  Next thing I knew, I felt his hands on my sides tickling me. “I
can’t let that go unpunished.”

Laughing, gasping for
air, I managed to say stop after some time. My face planted into the sofa with
him behind me, egging me on and telling me to beg for his mercy.

“Mercy, mercy,” I
sputtered, and his hands were gone.  It was so sudden I missed his touch on
instinct.

Swiveling around, he
was so close I could see the stormy gray show in the blue of his eyes. 
Something was churning in them, but I didn’t know what.  What I did have was
the urge to kiss him.  The air was sizzling, and I wondered if he felt it,
too.  With shadows falling all around us, I said, “I guess we should get
started.  You said you wanted light.”

Moving his hands from
his lap, he placed them on the floor to help him stand up from his crouched
position.  The black leather of the couch now seemed like an anchor pulling me
down with all the things left unsaid in the room.  “The light was for the
pictures,” he said, scooping up my camera. “I knew you hadn’t finished. And you
don’t have a flash.” Yeah, Dad told me that I had to finish taking all the
pictures before I could unload the film from the camera.

And wow, he’d known
that I was a fraud from the beginning.  I wasn’t sure whether that was good or
bad.  Bravery was new to me when it came to boys, “If you knew I hadn’t
finished taking pictures, why invite me over?”

Raising his eyebrows, I
realized he was just as surprised as I was that I’d asked that question. “I
don’t trust those places.  Who knows what weirdoes work at those places and
what they might do with my picture.”  When I just stood because I wasn’t buying
it, he  admitted coyly, “Maybe I just wanted to hang out with you.”  Hell, if
that didn’t light my fire. 

“Um,” I started, avoiding
his intense eyes. “Maybe we should develop the pictures.”
Allie.
  I
needed to remember the girl.  I didn’t know her well, but I wasn’t that kind of
girl, no matter how hot he was.