INTO THE FLAMES

Chapter 16

After breakfast, I put on a blue sundress, pulled my hair back into a lose ponytail, and strapped my camera around my neck. I'd wasted too much time moping and not enough time getting my work done. After my internship ends, this portfolio will make or break me as a photographer, make or break me getting a job in New York or Chicago or wherever I end up.

When I stepped into the kitchen, mom and Aria were sitting there, scooping cookie dough with small spoons onto baking sheets. Mom had her apron on, the one Aria bought her for mother's day a few months before I left for college. It's green with white polka dots and blue pockets. It's probably one of the ugliest things that mankind ever created. 

Mom loves it. 

Maybe it's because Aria gave it to her, or maybe she just has terrible taste. But something about that goddamn ugly apron brings a smile to my face.

I lift the camera to my eyes and focus on the scene in front of me, adjust to lighting. I see Aria and mom's smiled through the camera and click the button. 

The two of them turn around, joy in their eyes and smiles on their faces as they searched for the origin of the flash and the sound. Mom frowned and Aria rolled her eyes at her.

"Oh, stop," Aria said to mom as I lowered my camera. The two of them went back to making cookies. There was a strong, magnetic urge to follow them, to walk into the kitchen and lift my camera. I took a shot of Aria with her mouth open, engulfing a spoonful of cookie dough. I took one of mom, her head thrown back, laughing at something that wasn't even funny.

Dad came out from his office with a frown on his face. Mom turned red before she covered her mouth, cleared her throat, and said, "girls, quiet down. We're interrupting your father." Dad laughed and kissed mom's cheek.

"Nonsense. I just felt that I was missing all the fun." Aria smiled, then turned to me. I recognized the glimmer in her eyes. I'd seen it countless times as a child, when she talked about Jonah, when she wanted to raise some hell.

So I raised my camera.

And she raised a spoon.

And I got a perfect shot of the scoop of cookie dough hitting dad's right cheek.

Mom's mouth formed an "o" shape before dad lunged for the bowl. Aria took off running as he began flinging cookie dough in her direction. When mom yelled at him to stop, he scooped the dough and threw it at her. 

Her. Face. Oh my gosh.

"Avery Allison Raven, you better not be taking pictures of your poor mother!" Mom yelled before throwing a perfect ball of dough in my direction.

I gasped. "Hey! Watch the camera!" 

She showed no mercy.

Dad was chasing Aria around the kitchen, and she was screaming "defeat defeat defeat" until mom corralled her and dad dumped the remaining cookie dough over her head.

It was the most perfect moment I've had in a long time.

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I was editing the pictures I had taken that day when it hit me; I'm abandoning my project. 

I knew it was going to be too hard to recreate all the pictures from my childhood. Too much has changed. Not only have we just grown up, but mom got rid of most of our old clothes. Replacements are hard to find, and nothing fits. 

Doesn't mean I can't use them, though.

So, I'm back to a summer theme. Pictures of smiles and s'mores and sunsets and guitar strings and bonfires. Take them sporadically, show people what summer is like here, and then show them what it was like then. Show people how it's changed, how it hasn't.

It seemed cliche, because everyone takes pictures of sunsets, but I was hoping to capture more than just a pink and orange sky; I wanted essence, feeling, emotion. I wanted people to live a thousand lives while looking at these pictures.

I also wanted to smoke everyone in this job competition. I may be a lot of things, but one thing I am is a damn good photographer. 

I looked up to a knock on my door to see Matt standing there in jeans and a snug white v-neck. His rich dark hair was jelled messily on top of his head. He wasn't wearing socks or shoes, and he looked absolutely beautiful. 

I had a strange, photographic urge to take a picture right now and burn his presence into more than just a memory. The way he looked, the way he smelled, the way he was; it deserved to be preserved.

"Hi," I managed to croak out before sitting up. I had been laying on my bed touching up colors on the picture of dad earlier. I was suddenly conscious of my wild hair and my yoga pants. A long sweater hung over my shoulders as the cool night breeze drifted in from my windows.

"Hey," he replied, and my heart melted at the sound of his soft, deep voice. It had been almost a week since I'd seen his face and smelled that gorgeous cologne. He leaned against the doorway watching me as I moved my wild mane over my right shoulder.

"How was the wedding?" I asked him, hoping that he'd humor me and answer the question before we confronted each other.

"Beautiful," he said, before biting his tempting lips and adding, "I should've asked you to be my date."

I stopped breathing, stopped pumping blood, stopped carrying out important life functions as he confessed his feelings. I had wanted him to knock on my door and whisk me away from my responsibilities for a weekend more than anything in the world.

"It's okay," I finally managed to say after controlling my breathing. "I understand why you didn't." I paused and ran a hand through my hair. "I wasn't exactly in the best place when you left."

He winced and looked down to study is bare feet. We were dancing around whatever this was, and we both knew it. We couldn't look up and see each other because we both knew where it would lead, what that would do. 

"Avery," he said softly, "it doesn't matter what happened. I don't know what you think, but you didn't scare me off that day." I still couldn't look at him. I could feel he was watching me, waiting for me to make a move, waiting for me to say something, but I was frozen.

He didn't realize that everything was wrong. Everything that he watched that day was wrong. "It was embarrassing," I whispered, hoping that he wouldn't hear me.

But he did. I heard his footsteps and felt my heart jolt at his touch as he knelt in front of me and cupped my chin. My eyes met his as he said, "Don't you ever feel embarrassed, Avery. It's somethin' you gotta live with, baby, and it isn't your fault."

I broke our gaze and tried to look anywhere but at him. I couldn't. Jax had ripped me apart, ruined me, almost killed me, and I had no idea where to start after him. I didn't know what was normal and what wasn't anymore. There was no divide.

"Baby."

I looked at him, finding promise and love and compassion in those gorgeous emerald eyes before he leaned down and kissed me.

Nothing. Nothing had ever been like this. I was drowning in him, trying to latch onto anything as he took and gave and held onto me like he was about to lose me. I got lost in the feeling of his lips becoming a part of mine, a part of me, and I knew then, before he even broke away, that I wanted this. I wanted to be with him, to try dating again.

And I wanted, more than anything, for him to want the same.