Holy dick print.

Only twelve of the men who said they’d come actually showed up. They were all handsome in their own way. Some had great smiles. Some had pretty eyes. But all of them, with their different body types, skin tones, and heights, were aesthetically pleasing.

Too bad no one’s face will be shown.

I scrolled through and picked the twelve best shots, one of each man, and on Monday, I arrived to class early to upload my raw images to Luca Romano’s computer. I took my seat and waited. With each passing second, my heart nervously rattled.

And then he walked in.

I pretended I didn’t notice him and busied myself writing in my notebook.

“Hey,” Carlos greeted me as he took the seat to my right.

Without looking at him, I replied, “Hello.”

“Akila.”

I closed my eyes momentarily as I relished in the sound of my name from his lips. Swallowing hard, I let my lashes flutter open, and I continued writing in my notebook.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I called and texted, but it seemed like you blocked me.”

I nodded but didn’t look his way.

“Please look at me.”

Sighing, I turned my head and met his gaze. My heart clenched and I knew it was a mistake. The way he looked at me always did something to me and that moment was no exception. The tremor in my belly was intense. But instead of the intensity spreading through my lower body, it spread through my chest.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered. He moved closer, but he refrained from touching me. “I was wrong.”

I know you were wrong. My eyes narrowed, but I remained silent.

“I just—”

“Welcome back to class, everyone!” Luca Romano called out from his desk at the front of the room.

Shifting my gaze to our photography teacher, I turned my page in my notebook and prepared to take notes and concentrate on the lesson.

“It’s good to be back!” Luca clapped his hands together and then propped himself on top of his desk. “I’ve seen such great transformation from your initial photos to the photos that you submitted last week. I have no doubt my last video on power shots and perspectives has enhanced what you uploaded today.”

He handed each of us a small portfolio of our work that we’d completed and a description of the assignment next to it. Giving us fifteen minutes, everyone poured over their own work and then we were to make our way around the class. As everyone rose to their feet, Carlos reached out for me.

“Akila, can we talk about this?”

His fingers seared my skin and I pulled my arm away. “There’s nothing to talk about. And we’re supposed to be checking out portfolios right now,” I murmured as I walked across the room. I could still feel his touch long after I left our table.

When I returned to my seat, Carlos didn’t say a word to me. I didn’t know what was worse, the desperate plea in his eyes as he reached for me or the silence that seemed to thunder in my ears.

“Now I want you to pick your favorite image from your portfolio and briefly explain to the class what it is, why it’s important, and what you’d hoped to convey.” Luca opened his arms wide. “This is what Visual Storytelling is all about.”

“I’ll go first, Luca,” Jennifer raised her hand and then jumped to her feet when he nodded.

“Everyone put your hands together for Jennifer,” Luca instructed and light applause followed.

I just sat there. I was saving my applause for everyone else.

Holding up a naked photo of herself, Jennifer grinned. She handed it to someone in the first row and asked them to pass it around. “This photo was from the self-portrait photography lesson. We were told to focus on our natural selves and what’s more natural than being nude. I work out constantly since I’m a personal trainer, so staying in great shape is important to me. I take pride in my work and the work I put into my body, so that’s why I wanted to showcase it.”

I tried not to roll my eyes at her. When the photo got to our table, I took it and immediately handed it to Carlos. Without looking at it, Carlos handed it to the person in front of us. I felt the corner of my lips move slightly.

The rest of the class took turns presenting their photos, and then it was my turn.

“My favorite from my portfolio is the self-portrait. I am constantly working, so I set up my tripod and programed my camera to take automatic shots to capture me writing. Even though I had prettier pictures from when I was mindful of the camera, and I had my smile and face tilted just right, this one is real. This is what I look like when I’m working. This is me fulfilling my purpose in life.” I looked around the room as I held my picture higher. “Thank you.”

I walked to my seat to the sound of clapping.

“Very good, Akila. Carlos, come on up.”

Carlos was very causal in jeans and a grey hoodie. He looked so comfortable and at ease with himself, and there was a sexiness to the way he moved. He flashed the class a smile and my eyes watered.

Get it together, Akila, I yelled at myself. I can do this. I can do all things.

“My favorite from my portfolio is the sunrise/sunset dual photos.” He held them up. “My partner and I went to my favorite place at the Riverfront. I love these shots because it shows change. Even though the location doesn’t change, the two pictures are completely different. So much happened between when one was taken and when the other was taken, but none of that takes away from how beautiful they both are.” He paused as he looked at the picture. Glancing at me, he continued, “It’s also my favorite for some personal reasons.” With that, he walked back to his seat.

Applauding, Luca pushed himself from the desk and took his place in the center of the room. “You all did a fantastic job.” He clapped again. “When you’re presenting your work, you want to work on your storytelling and your delivery. The work should speak for itself, and you should only say enough to enhance the story your photography is telling. This brings us to your final assignment, which was to make a statement with a series of shots. You needed to tell a story. There needed to be cohesiveness. And I only required a one-page paper for you to tell me what statement you were trying to make and why it’s important to you. Your statement should be bold, and the story should be powerful. I should be able to get the same statement from your photographs as I get from your paper.”

I took notes and I heard what Luca was saying, but I could feel Carlos staring at me. My skin heated under his gaze and I was distracted.

“…and this is where your partner comes into play. On Saturday, your photos will be showcased at a special showcase at Rich Gallery. I will enlarge them, but keep them pure—no retouching. Before the gallery opens to the public at seven o’clock, we will meet as a class at six o’clock and you will be given the last part of your assignment. You will be paired with your partner for this final part. Please be sure to invite your friends and family so they can see your debut.”

Someone raised their hand. “Mr. Romano, do we need to dress up?”

“You need to dress in the way that best encompasses who you are. If that’s jeans so be it. If it is a gown, go for it. This is about visual storytelling, and every day you are telling a story about yourself with your wardrobe. So, just be yourself. Any other questions?”

The room was quiet but bristling with excitement. It was apparent that Luca could feel it too as he grinned at us. “Okay, class is dismissed! I will see you on Saturday. Enjoy the rest of this Monday night.”

I gathered my belongings and snuck a glance at Carlos. When I saw his eyes boring into me, my breathing hitched. “Have a good night.” I turned to walk away, and he was at my side before I could take a step.

“I’m walking you to your car,” he told me.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

Without another word, we walked side-by-side to my car.

“Okay, thank you,” I mumbled as I pulled out my keys.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

“It is what it is.”

Stepping into my personal space, he looked down at me. “I was wrong.”

Squaring my shoulders, I made myself taller as I met his gaze. “Yes, you were.”

“When I confronted Bryant, he denied it at first and then he told me what he did.” Carlos’s handsome face hardened. “He told me how he thought it was you and then… He told me he knew what he was doing.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “So, he confirmed everything I told you?”

He nodded, only glancing down momentarily to decline a phone call that was coming in. “I’m sorry for that. I’ve known that man for eight years—since we were eighteen. And I’ve known you…”

“You’ve only known me for a month.”

“If I told you that your best friend did some shit like that, would you believe me?” His phone rang again, but he ignored it.

“That’s the thing… my best friend doesn’t have a history of doing fucked up shit.” My voice became harsher. “Yours does. So, it wasn’t a huge leap. If my best friend was a trash human being and you told me she did something that was garbage, I wouldn’t have dismissed what you said. I understand wanting to verify because that’s your boy, but I wouldn’t have dismissed what you said.”

“I didn’t think he would do something like that.”

“That’s not even the point.” I shook my head. “You made your choice. What mattered to you was protected, and that’s what’s important, right?”

He closed the gap between us, cupping my face in his hands. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

My eyes pricked with tears. Damn.

He searched my face. “I’m sorry he disrespected you and your sister. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you. But more than anything, I’m sorry that I made you feel like you and your feelings don’t matter.”

His phone rang again.

Irritably, he yanked his phone out of his pocket to decline the call.

It was Bryant.

He gave me a look as he declined the call. All the anger, hurt, and confusion flooded my system, and I needed to get out of there.

“I have to go,” I breathed, scared my voice would break even further.

“Will you accept my apology?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

He pulled me flush against him and even though I didn’t want to, I folded into him as if that was the only place I wanted to be. I buried my face in his chest so he couldn’t see my watery eyes. I squeezed him just as tight as he squeezed me.

“I really am sorry. I won’t let that happen again. I swear to God,” he murmured against my hair.

It had been a long week, and I didn’t want to admit that I’d missed him. But in his arms, that was all I could think. I inhaled the sandalwood and vanilla scent and tried to commit it to memory. Every ridge of his hard body, I wanted to memorize. His warmth, I wanted to bottle up for a cold night. And the sound of his voice, I wanted to play on a loop in my ears.

He pulled back fractionally. “Akila?”

Glassy eyed, I looked up at him.

“I miss you,” he admitted.

I licked my lips. I wanted to say it back, but I was afraid.

“Do you miss me?”

I nodded.

Leaning down, his lips brushed mine gently. The energy between us was so powerful that I didn’t even feel like I was in control of myself anymore. I let out a light moan as I parted my lips and allowed his tongue to meet mine. The passion from that kiss made a beeline to the apex of my thighs. His kiss caused me to shiver.

His phone rang again.

Bryant.

I pulled away. “I can’t do this. You and I wouldn’t work. I have to go.”

“Can I see you later?”

“I can’t be around you.”

“Can we talk later?”

I had to look away from him. “I don’t think so.”

“Can we talk period?”

I didn’t respond, but I still couldn’t look at him.

“Akila, will you at least unblock me?”

His phone rang again.

Untangling myself from his arms, I opened my car door. “I’m sure that’s Bryant again. Have a goodnight.”

I, at least, made it off campus before the tears started streaming down my cheeks.