Through Her Eyes (15 page)

“You don’t have to be such a show-off.” I roll my eyes at him.

He smirks, and all is right in my world.

“This is wonderful, Chase, and absolutely perfect.”

“These are the moments, this view . . . look around you. You just have to be happy in the moment.” His chest rises and falls with his breathing. Standing here, I understand why Chase loves this place so much. I understand why people go out of their way to discover it. We sit down in silence, and this time it’s peaceful rather than jarring. I stare out into the distance and admire the flat clouds blanketing the sun from above. Everyday concerns blow away with each peaceful gust of wind.

Time stands still as we sit here. Minutes pass, but they are irrelevant. Time is irrelevant. All that matters is the right here, the right now.

“How about you take a few pictures. Here, try.” He holds the camera out to me. His gaze locks on mine for what seems like an eternity. My breathing becomes ragged, and I run my fingers through my hair, pulling at my scalp. My vision drifts away from him, and I look up at the sky.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

It was a simple statement for the moment but held more meaning. He nods in understanding. This is why it’s easy to be with Chase. He understands me. He knows just what to say to make me laugh, to calm me.

“Let me help you. Point the camera on what you want to focus on, like I showed you when we were climbing up here. Once you picked an image turn the focusing ring. When it starts to highlight and sharpen, you capture the image. There is no right or wrong. That’s the beauty of art. Just take pictures, and together we’ll see what we can make of it.”

“Okay.” I pull the camera toward me and focus it like he told me. I focus out into the distance.

“So, you’ve been shooting all your life, but you never told me what made you pick up a camera.”

“I was very rebellious growing up. I used to get in all sorts of trouble. One time I got caught shoplifting from a grocery store near our apartment. My parents were shocked. It wasn’t like we needed the money. Quite the contrary, actually. They sent me to a psychologist. I was always very artistic, always had an eye for beauty. When the therapist suggested I pick up a hobby—that I needed an outlet for my rebellion—they bought me a camera. My first. They encouraged me to always have it on me. I shot everything. Everyone. I went to college and tried to hone my craft, but truth be told, halfway through freshman year, I couldn’t stand being in one place. I felt locked up, so I left. Dropped out.”

“What did you do? What did your parents say?”

“At first my parents were pissed. Royally pissed. But in the end, they let me. Money was never an issue. I had my trust that kicked in when I turned eighteen. I didn’t really need their permission.” He raises his hands and runs them through his hair as he speaks.

“Where did you go?”

“I think the better question is where didn’t I go. I went everywhere. I learned how to climb. I traveled the world, and I shot pictures of everything. I realized that the life they wanted for me wasn’t what was intended for me. Traveling and sharing the beauty, that’s what my life was meant to be.”

“Wow, Chase. That’s amazing.”

“Thanks.” I stare at him as he answers. He seems proud, and it makes me wish I could do something I loved that would make me feel proud, too.

“Will you do me a favor and stand perfectly still?”

“Why?”

“Will you just trust me already? You’re going to like this.” He laughs, and then his expression grows more serious.

He places the camera in the crook of my neck. My fingers begin to tremble as his breath tickles my neck. It’s like a soft whisper. My lips part. His heart beats against my back. The steady cadence only makes mine pick up.
What is he doing?

Snap

Snap

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a picture, of course.”

“I can hear you taking a picture, but why and of what?” I attempt to keep my head perfectly still so I don’t bump the camera sitting in the groove between my neck and my right shoulder.

“The view from up top, and I’m taking it this way—” He stops and seems to be thinking through his answer, but all he gives me is a simple, “Because I can.”

“You’re taking it from my neck, because you can?”

“Yup, from your neck . . . because I can.” I furrow my brows. Sometimes he’s so weird. But he makes me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time.

He makes me believe in more.

He makes me believe in hope.

When he’s around a calm falls over me. He gives me peace.

Lord
.

This man . . . he’s dangerous to me.

He makes me feel alive.

As if reading my thoughts again, he pulls away, and our eyes lock. The camera dislodges from my neck. Our breaths come in tandem. Our faces are so close I can smell the light peppermint from the gum he’s chewing. His hand pulls a strand of hair that has fallen forward. As he twists it in his fingertips, his pupils dilate, and he leans forward. His lips begin to descend toward mine. But all I see is Parker. He surrounds me. His words fill me.

“Chase, I can’t. There’s someone—” I stutter, but stop myself before I say any more. His head jerks back. My words seem to slice through him. His eyes flash. Sadness radiates off him. I don’t know why I said that. But being with him—although it feels right—feels as though I’m hurting Parker. As much as I want to move on, Parker is rooted in my memory.

Chase’s eyes have darkened at my words. His face has turned pale. I swear I even feel frost blowing through him. A moment later, a pained look that I can’t comprehend crosses his face. Anguish? His eyes appear to glass as he steps away from me, leaving me chilled from his absence. It makes no sense. He barely knows me. Why is he so hurt?

The silence stretches as the seconds pass. He squints, and his lips purse. His whole attention is focused on me. His mouth opens to speak, but hangs open as if searching for the right words to say. Nothing comes out. He just shakes his head, turns and kneels on the dirt. I see him refocus his camera and begin to shoot again.
What just happened?
This is more than rejection. The thought makes my legs tremble, and I’m not sure how to fix it or fix him. My heart sinks knowing that I might have hurt him.

About thirty minutes later, Chase walks back to where I’m sitting on the grass. His face is still tight. Looking at him makes my heart wrench. It was never my intention to hurt him. I need to talk to him, I need to explain why I pulled away.

“Chase.” My voice is low. When he doesn’t turn, I wonder if he can hear me.

“Chase, can I talk to you for a second?” I twist the small gold band around my right ring finger.

“Yeah.” He turns toward me, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“I just wanted to—”

“No need. I was wrong to do that.” I step closer, his face near mine. His deep breaths gently tickle my cheek.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just—”

“It’s really not a big deal.” He turns and squats. He lifts his camera to his eye, but I can’t miss the hurt and sadness still present in his gaze. I inhale and breathe through the pain of knowing I put that sadness there.

Toxic.

I cross my arms in front of my body.

Always toxic.

Staring across the distance, I see a damask rose.
A touch of pink. A splash of white.
Words I wrote so long ago to describe a similar flower. Feels like just yesterday when I used to write poetry.

What the hell is this?” she asked in slurred words. “My castle in the sky.” Her voice was taunting. The words came out lazy and jumbled, blending together. Her speech is obviously impaired as she crumpled the paper I spent hours working on. The paper that held a piece of my bleeding soul. She threw it into the trash and stumbled out of the room. Retrieving it, I held it in my little fingers as I heard a knock at the door and the sound of the door opening. Delia my housekeeper greeted the guest and I heard the familiar sound of Park’s voice as he thanked her and entered the room.

“What you got there, baby girl?”

“Nothing.” My lip quivers as I stepped back to put some distance between his question and me.

“Let me see.” His hand reached out, and I crossed my arms in defiance.

“No.”

“Come on, Ari. You have no secrets from me, right?” I let out a sigh and handed him the paper. As he unwadded the ball that my mom had formed, the noise scratched at my ears. The sound was almost deafening as I waited for his response.

“Did you write this?” He cupped my face in his hands. “Don’t ever stop. Okay, Ari?”

“Okay, Parker.”

Lifting my long waves up into a knot, I secure it on top of my head, and then tuck the loose strands behind my ears. A breeze tickles my neck, making my whole body shudder.

“Hey,” I hear from behind me. Sighing deeply, I turn my body to face him, and my arms fall to my side when I see a smile line his face. Whatever was eating at him before has passed. I can’t stand having any distance between us, and I’m ecstatic to see he has let it go.

As the day draws to a close, I notice Chase glance down at his watch.

“It’s time, Aria. We’re heading to the island of Ischia tonight so we can make port. Luciano is expecting us before sundown. We really need to head back.”

As we make our way back down the mountain, I watch as the sun meets the horizon, bright vibrant colors spreading across the ocean in front of us.

Dear Park,

What an adventure my life has turned into. You’d be so proud. Not only did I take your advice, but also I do believe I’ve excelled at it. Today was extraordinary. For the first time in forever, I didn’t let my fear take over. Today I climbed to the top of a mountain. Or, as Chase called it, a large hill. It was a mountain in my mind, and I conquered it. I can’t tell you the feelings I had when I made it to the top. I felt like I could conquer the world! I owe that to you and Chase. You’d like Chase. He really has opened my eyes. He makes me see that I can hope for more. He kind of reminds me of you.

Miss you more than you know,

Ari.

I lay the postcard down and look over the words I wrote. “You’d be so proud.” He would be, and it reminds me of the last time I did something to make Parker proud of me.

“I’m so proud of you, Ari.”
Joy radiated off me as my face lit up brighter than the rising sun seeing Parker standing there. He stepped closer and placed one hand on my back. His finger began to trace circles
.
My lashes fluttered as I looked into his crystal blue eyes, hoping to find what I was looking for. Praying his eyes reflected what I felt.
Love
. But all I saw was friendship. I felt my shoulders tighten at the revelation.

“Owen would be really proud of you, too,” he said as he handed me back the diploma. My eyes softened. “You think?”

“I know.”

The memory brings about feelings I’ve held back for a long time. Confusion filters through me, but I shake it away as I realize that something seemingly impossible has occurred. I went on this trip for Parker, but now I want to do this for myself. I realize how much Chase has impacted my life in such a short time. It’s been so gradual, I hardly realized the difference until now. But reading back my words, one thing has become apparent.

Chase Porter is breathing new life into me.

Thirty-five days since I spoke to Parker

Seven days since I met Chase

Y
ESTERDAY WAS A TURNING
point for me. Standing on the summit of the mountain opened my eyes to everything Parker had been trying to say to me all those days ago. As much as I wish he were here with me, deep down I know this journey can only be taken with Chase. There’s something about him that’s comforting, refreshing, and familiar. He reminds me a lot of Parker, just a little more spiritual. He makes me see this huge, magnificent picture that I was blind to before him.

I awaken this morning feeling happy and excited to see where the day will take me. This is a new feeling. My heart pounds with excitement. I can’t stop thinking of the way Chase looks at me. The way his hands feel when he touches me, and how special he makes me feel.