Merry-Go-Round (Sequel to 'Carousel')

Chapter 5 - Hands in Pockets

+++ I dedicated this chapter to CandaceGillespie because we had a conversation about men with their hands in their pockets on another story of mine, 'Crooked Smile'. ;) +++

A few hours later we got up to a grey Californian winter day. After a shower I discarded the towel in favour of the red shirt Michael had worn the previous day, and then collected my own clothes from the floor and sat down in the unmade bed to sort them out. Moments later Michael returned from his closet in a pair of jeans. He left a folded shirt and t-shirt on the corner of the slightly crowded side table, turned his attention to the state of the room and still with bare chest and feet started to gather shed garments. He draped his black pants over a chair next to the table and stood there for a moment looking at me. "You're wearing my shirt," he said finally.

I looked down on myself as if his statement needed verification. "Do you want to put it back on? Well, you could wear something else. Or... you could come and get it."
Michael laughed and turned away, running his fingertips lightly over the assortment on the table as if taking stock. "It has make-up on the collar," he said only briefly averting his eyes from his fingers. I pulled it away from my neck to check and it indeed had smears of a light substance on the inside. "Apart from that," he continued, "it's a costume. It belongs to the outfits for the upcoming album. I definitely won't wear it again today."

I left a photoshoot in a hurry.

I took a deep breath and exhaled. "I'm sorry, Michael. I shouldn't have put it on. I didn't think about it. I'll take it off." And I got up on my knees to undo the buttons and slip out of it.
"No!" he said so loudly that I stopped in the middle of the motion taken aback by his reaction. "No, don't take it off!" Then his inhaled and amended. "I mean, I don't mind if you take it off. I wouldn't mind, obviously." An embarrassed smile crossed his face and he looked back at where his fingers travelled the contents on the table. They brushed over my camera sitting in the middle of it all and he picked it up and started to examine it. "But no harm will come from you wearing it."
"I still wouldn't have put it on if I'd thought about it. I don't want to mess with..." But I couldn't find the right word. "There's so much precision in what you do – I don't want to mess with that," I said instead.
"It's just a shirt!" Another smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. "Actually, I like you wearing it. – That's a good camera right there!" He turned it over, then removed the cap and lifted it to his face to look through the visor. "No autofocus?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I've had it for a couple of years, now. It's not new anymore. But it's a good camera, indeed, and it was expensive. Besides, autofocus is for people who can't really handle cameras."
"Is that so?" He did another check of the functions, pulled the lever to transport the film and lifted the camera to his eyes a second time.
"Like automatic cars are for people who can't really drive. Or have you ever seen an automatic racing car?"
"No, but my experience with racing cars is limited." He sounded amused. The lens was turned on me and his fingers adjusted the objective carefully, focusing. "Most cars in this country are automatics."
"What does that tell you about drivers in this country?"
The upper half of his face was hidden, but I could see his grinning mouth. "That they're crappy?" He pressed the release and the shutter snapped closed.
I looked down on myself to make sure his shirt covered me. I wasn't wearing anything under it.
"Oh, I wouldn't do that!" Michael laughed. "I wouldn't embarrass you. Don't worry." He pulled the lever transporting the film a second time.
"The shirt smells of the lights," I said.
Moving a little to the left he turned the camera a 90° angle and took another photo. "Does that mean sweaty or scorched?"
I wasn't sure, but heat was certainly part of it. Perspiration, maybe, and hours of the lamps burning down on the fabric, plus a combination of products – hairspray, powder, makeup... I'd smelled it on him the previous day but it wasn't until now that I associated it with the photoshoot.
Michael repeated the action of transporting the film and took yet one more picture. And one more.