"Honestly, Chad!" I huffed as I stumbled up the stairs, my cousin's hands over my eyes. "Why all the secrecy?"
"Because I want it to be a surprise," Chad's hot breath hit my ear and I found it hard to supress a shiver.
"Yes, but you don't need to make me blind, thank you!" I snapped. His only reply was a chuckle.
I growled, "Chad, I'm warning you...If--" Chad's hands dropped and my jaw did likewise.
Gone were the armchairs, the low couch facing the TV. A gray backdrop--like the one for school pictures covered the TV itself and a white piece of paper was on the floor. Then the camera...
"Oh my God!" I squealed. Squealed like a total girl. I jumped up and down, then realized one element was missing.
"What do I photograph?"
Chad smiled, "I was wondering if I could...model for you and..."
"Yes, yes! I've always wanted to photograph models..." I threw my arms around him. His arms came around me and we stood there in an embrace.
I was the one who broke the hug, my cheeks red. It had lasted a touch too long.
"Um, yes." I stammered. "Sure," Chad nodded and then took off his sweater. Just like that. My mouth was dry as I watched him kick off his shoes, peel off his socks. My gaze darted to the tattoo of the cross on his arm. The one he had got a year ago, for his eighteenth birthday.
Chad walked in the "modeling space" while I was behind the camera, directing him.
It went like that for a while, with him doing crouches, positions of running, dancing. Every pose imaginable.
“Okay, good…” I stopped snapping for a moment and looked over at Chad with a smile. “Well, mister model. Anything you wanna do?”
Chad looked at me, his smile sheepish, “I actually had an idea, but it might be a bit…inappropriate.”
I looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “How inappropriate?”
“It’s not that inappropriate. Just a bit…risqué.”
“Tell me,” I demanded.
“I was wondering if you could take pictures of me…in my underwear?”
My other eyebrow rose and I carefully considered his offer. It was risqué, but I decided to take the chance. Viewing Chad—my cousin Chad that I knew so well—in underwear was not the same as a handsome stranger being nude.
“Calix?” Chad’s voice jarred me out of my thoughts. I nodded, “That’s a good idea. You can, um…do what you have to do.”
Keeping his eyes locked on mine, he undid the fly of his pants, pulled down the zipper. A little shimmy to his hips made the jeans pool around his feet. He stepped out of the fabric and a second later the tank top was added to the pile of blue denim that was his pants.
His body was magnificent—almost like something taken off one of those pocket-book romances my mother read so much.
My face must have betrayed my overwhelming shock and wariness, because he suddenly said, “If you’re too uncomfortable with this…”
“No, no,” I took my place behind the camera. “You know, Calvin Klein and Dolce does this a lot, so this is a bit standard. Better to start early.”
That made him chuckle and I took a couple of photos of him caught in mid-laugh. Then I instructed him to turn around (showing me his back) and look over his shoulder and down. I was just about to take the picture when something on his back caught my eye.
“A new tattoo?” I asked. Chad glanced up at me, nodded. I walked to him to see the tattoo better.
“It’s pretty,” I reached up, traced his tattoo lightly. It was a picture of an angel with the black cursive print above the angel’s blond curls. I felt his shoulders shudder under my touch. I took my hands off—without knowing why, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, just—can you give me a massage for a second?”
"Did you do something to your back?"
"No, I'm just a bit tense...modeling is a lot of work."
"Okay, only for a second."
Chad got on his knees and I began kneading on his shoulders and back. Then I worked my way down his right arm and just as I was massaging his palm, his fingers closed over my hand. I looked up from my entrapped hand to his dark eyes, eyes full of a emotion I could not decipher.
Our heads tilted at the exact same time—his to my left, mine to his. His hand guided mine to his chest, under his heartbeat. My gaze darted to his lips—full, shapely lips. My tongue flicked out, wet my own mouth.
Our faces neared each other’s. Stop. This is wrong! something inside of me screamed.
But still I couldn't resist; something led me on, moving closer and closer until I could feel his breath against my face, feel my eyes drowning in his and he moved to kiss me, my lips burning with the desire for his touch but it never came. My cell phone rang and like a spring pressed too tight, we were thrown apart.
