Behind the Lens (Boys of Fallout Book 2) Page 2

  There it is. I scratch my eyebrow, shaking my head.

  “I don’t know why you thought I was going to quit,” I say, my voice weak.

  She sighs heavily, and I look out the corner of my eyes at her. She’s playing with the binding of her book.

  “Things seem to be going so well with Luke,” she says, her shoulders lifting. “I thought maybe you would find a regular job…settle down.”

  I blink a few times as I try to come up with something respectful and not snide to say. “It’s not like I’m ancient, Mom.”

  “You’re twenty-one. You don’t really have a home…or a car…and you can’t keep a boyfriend for more than a few months. Most girls your age are just finishing their degrees and settling into careers,” she replies, biting her inner lip as if she doesn’t want to say those things, but feels there’s a dire need now.

  “Most twenty-one-year-olds don’t get paid nearly as well as I do for doing something they love. Or get to live for free and don’t need a car–without having to live in their parent’s basements that is,” I say as I stand, folding the blanket and putting it over the couch. The last part gets to me because I kind of still live with them, but it’s not because I can’t afford to live somewhere else. It just doesn’t make sense to take out short-term leases continually. I feel my blood pressure rising, and I don’t want to say something rash to her. “I can stay in a hotel the next time I’m in town if you want.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Natalie,” she says, shaking her head at me with knit brows. Her voice softens as she continues, “You’re more than welcome here. I just wish you’d use your talent for something like newborn photography– that pays well too, you know. I looked at what some people are charging.”

  I put my hands up. “Mom, there’s a big difference between what I do and newborn photography. It’s live action.”

  “Or weddings?”

  “Mom!” I say, my chest rising and falling as I look at her sad eyes racing over my face. She really wants me to do anything but what I do. “You know the last thing I want to deal with is the drama of weddings.”

  She blinks hard before finally replying, “And living with a bunch of strung out rockers for months on end is better?”

  “They’re not all strung out,” I reply. “And I’m picky about who I tour with.”

  I watch as she licks her lips, eyes back on her book. She never liked metal music, even when I was a teenager and just listening to it. I’m pretty sure the heavy riffs and screaming have her convinced that no one who performs that sort of music can be good. Then there’s what happened with Jace.

  “I just worry about you,” she says, and her voice is low.

  “I’ve been doing this long enough, Mom. I know what I’m doing. Besides I can kick 95% of these guys’ asses,” I reply, cocking my head at her.

  She nods at that, knowing my Krav Maga skills are finally honed for assholes on tour and the occasional rowdy crowd that wants to take out my camera.

  “What about Luke? How does he feel about it?” she asks just as the door bell rings.

  I don’t answer her, and instead, go to the door to find the very person there.

  “Hey,” I greet my boyfriend, leaning up on my toes to kiss him.

  “Speak of the devil,” Mom says she stands.

  “Mom!” I reply in a hiss as Luke entwines his fingers with mine.

  Her gaze moves from me up to Luke. She smiles at him before asking, “How do you feel about Nat going back on tour?”

  Luke’s brow furrows as he looks between us, and my stomach sinks.

  “She hadn’t told me she was going to be,” he replies, and his voice cracks.

  “My guess is in a week–” Mom begins.

  “Two,” I correct.

  “Really?” Luke turns to me, and I nod.

  “Yeah, with Makeshift Chemistry,” I say as I drop his hand and pull my sweatshirt over my head. “They’re good guys.”

  “That’s what you said about Jace’s band,” Mom says, and I close my eyes. Anger builds behind my lids. Why she had to go there is beyond me.

  I suck in a breath through my teeth. “That was three years ago, and Jace was the only asshole in the band.”

  When I open my eyes Mom is looking at her slippers. I shake my head before turning to go out the door.

  Luke follows me out and grabs my arm to slow me down. “Jace–like Jace Smith from Undertow?”

  Like there’s anyone else.

  “Nat?” Luke says when I don’t reply.

  “Yes?” I reply as he cocks his head at me.

  “Jace Smith?”

  “What about him?” I ask.

  “Why did your mom mention him?” he says, nodding over his shoulder.

  I tip my head back before answering, “I dated him.”

  “You dated Jace Smith?” Luke repeats, his voice thick.

  “Yes,” I say as I turn and open his car door to slip in.

  Luke’s quiet for a moment as he starts the car. His tongue runs over the inside of his lip, and he takes a deep breath before asking, “Was it serious?”

  “I don’t think that’s relevant,” I reply as I look out the window.

  “It’s relevant to me,” he says, and I look over to see his hands tight on the steering wheel. The tattoos on his arms stretch from the tension. “How many guys from the bands you tour with have you dated?”

  I reach forward and turn the heat down. Suddenly, it feels like the car is 100 degrees.

  “Jace is the only one in over three years–and it was a long time ago,” I reply. “I was eighteen.”

  Luke nods as his jaw tightens. “How long have you known you were going to be going to tour with this band?”

  “James called me a few days ago to negotiate. Usually, I don’t find out until a week or two before the tour begins. It’s a nationwide tour that lasts six months,” I reply, glad for a change in subject.

  “Six months?” Luke asks, running his hands through the length of his hair on the top of his head. It dishevels it, so it falls over the buzzed sides.

  “Yeah.”

  Luke’s quiet, and the sound of the turning signal clicks out of beat with the song on the radio. It clicks off as he turns into the movie theater. Finally, as he shifts into park, he speaks, “So how does it work?”

  I know how this conversation usually ends, and I’m not looking forward to it. I pull my hair into a loose ponytail as I get out of the car, breathing in the sharp fall air. At least I’m going to be on the West Coast, and it will be warm for a little bit.

  “Band tours; I tour with them,” I answer, knowing it’s not a sufficient explanation.

  We stand in silence as we wait to get our tickets. Once we have them, Luke finally speaks again.

  “It’s safe to assume it’s a metal band, right?” he asks.

  I nod as I look at him. He has the ‘scene’ look; tattoos, dapper hair, skinny jeans and v-neck tees, but he honestly doesn’t know crap about music.

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much all I do. This band’s not as heavy as some of the ones I’ve been on tour with. They have two lead vocals. James the singer and Brent, the screamer,” I say, and his face is blank as he looks at the menu for the concession stand. His eyes aren’t moving, and I wonder what he’s thinking.

  “Your mom doesn’t agree with your career choice?” he asks, and I know from the tone of his voice, suddenly he doesn’t either.

  “You thought it was a cool when we first started dating,” I say before ordering popcorn and chocolate covered raisins. Luke shakes his head when the cashier asks if he wants anything.

  Luke waits until we’re walking away to respond, “That’s before I realized you dated one of your clients.”

  I pinch my lips together as I cross my arms, lowering my voice, “Yeah, because I do that all the fucking time.”

  “Even I know who Jace Smith is, and I barely ever listen to anything that heavy, Nat,” Luke says as he walks next to me.

 
I don’t justify the statement with a response. Instead, I shake my head as I look down at my popcorn, no longer hungry for it.

  “So now you’re mad at me because I’m concerned?” Luke asks, grabbing my arm to stop me.

  “I made it clear when we started dating tour photography was–is– my career, and I was just taking a break for a few months. Besides the fact you’re digging into a past I’d rather forget,” I reply as I turn to look at him and shrug off his arm.

  Luke’s blue eyes race over my face as he takes it into his hands. “I get it’s your career, and I respect it, Nat. I just wish you’d told me you were looking for another band to tour with before you were suddenly ready to take off again.” He leans down and kisses me. “I just want you all to myself.”

  I can’t stay mad at him when he puts it like that.

  “I know it’s going to be hard on you, but you have to trust me,” I say, and my voice is quiet. “Please, just trust me.”

  His thumbs trace my cheeks before he kisses me again, any remaining anger disappearing. “I do, Nat.”

  I take a deep breath, sucking in my lower lip as I look up at him. “You’re going to make it hard to leave, aren’t you?”

  He raises his eyebrows, leaning down and kissing my neck before letting his lips drift to my ear. “Damn, right, Missy.”

  Chapter 4

  Only a few days left.

  I run my hand over the cover of the journal, letting my fingers trace the outlines of the black birds against the brown cover. I slip aside the elastic band and flip to the last page and begin to write the lyrics I know by heart. I do this with every journal I bring on tour. Usually, I go through one per trip, but the last time I was on the road I barely went through half of the pages. I stand, sliding the old journal, a plain black one, onto the shelf next to two dozen others. On the edge of each journal is the band name and date of the tour I wrote the songs on. I swallow the lump in my throat as my eyes stop on where the one from my time with Undertow should be. I shake my head as I turn to the bed and place the new journal on the top of my carry-on.

  “Hey.” Luke knocks on the door before slipping in. “Packing already?”

  I nod, and he wraps his arms around me, placing his chin in the hollow of my collarbone as he looks over me and into the luggage.

  “Is that a diary?” he asks, and there’s a hint of laughter in his voice.

  I turn to face him as I press my lips into a thin line, letting my hands fall on his strong shoulders as I stare up at him. “No, it’s not. I keep my notes for photo shoots in journals for each tour.”

  “Ahh,” he replies, his eyes drifting to the shelf. He goes to take one off, and I block his hand as my heart thuds.

  “I don’t let anyone read them,” I reply, slightly breathless from the panic that has siphoned into my veins at the thought of him opening one and realizing I lied. I don’t like lying, but I don’t let anyone know what’s in those journals anymore.

  Luke puts his hands up, and a smirk plays across his lips. “Sorry!”

  I roll my eyes before stepping forward and placing my head on his chest, breathing in his scent and the feeling of his warmth. Luke wraps his arms around me, kissing my head before whispering, “I feel like you’re already saying goodbye…like you’re saying goodbye…forever.”

  I look up him, and the hollow that began to open during our last date cracks more. “I’m sorry. I just know how this ends.

  It ends.

  Luke shakes his head, his brow furrowing over his ice blue eyes. They penetrate me, but only deep enough to give rise to a feeling of regret. I never let anyone in all the way, and Luke’s no exception. It makes it easier to say goodbye, but it’s never that easy. Over years of touring, I’ve managed to separate my heart from my soul. My entire soul is in my photography, entwined inseparably with the music and bands I love, but my heart is numb for the same reason. With each failed relationship I’ve stopped feeling it, and all I’m left with is a semi-successful career. I may not feel the pain of a relationship ending, but I can feel the pain washing over Luke in waves. He’s devoted himself to us, but now I can see he knows I haven’t. He knows I already gave up, or I never gave in.

  “It doesn’t have to end, Nat. I’m in this for the long haul,” he replies, and I pull away to sit on the bed.

  “That’s what you say now,” I reply, sighing as he sits next to me and places his hands over mine.

  “I know it’s going to be hard,” Luke begins, and I close my eyes.

  “Just kiss me, Luke,” I cut him off.

  He leans down, cupping my face in his hands before letting his lips press softly into mine. It’s hardly a kiss, just a lingering touch–one that makes me want more. I wrap my arms around his neck, pushing him back into the pillows as I press my lips hard against his.

  “Do you want this to end?” Luke asks, pulling away as he brushes a hair out of my face.

  I shake my head as my insides twist. “No, but I won’t give up my career for love.”

  Luke’s eyelashes flutter as his chest rises against mine, our foreheads press together. “Okay. I won’t ask.”

  “You were going to?” I whisper.

  A smile creeps to the edge of Luke’s lips. “No, I know it’s pointless to ask. I’ve seen your pictures. Those musicians need someone like you to make sweating like that look sexy.”

  I laugh, moving to the side of him and place my head on his chest. I run my fingertip over the design on his t-shirt. “The sad part is I sweat like that when I’m on stage too. It gets nasty hot–it’s a good thing no one is taking pictures of me.”

  “I bet you look far sexier than they do,” he says, running his hands down my spine and trailing tingles with the movement.

  “I can promise you, that is not true,” I reply shaking my head.

  Silence settles over us, and I concentrate on making my breathing move in time with his. I can’t get it right, and finally, I give up, closing my eyes as his fingers trace circles over my arm.

  Luke clears his throat and then speaks, “Can I bring you to the airport?”

  I look up at him, and my breath sticks in my throat. No one has ever asked to take me to the airport. I figured this would be the last time we would see one another. I sit up, running my hands through my hair as I look across the room at my canvased photographs. I can feel his gaze never leaving me as I try to come up with a reason to say no.

  “Sure,” I reply. “But I thought you had to work that day?”

  “I asked to come in late so I could drop you off,” he says, cocking his head at me.

  I keep my eyes straight ahead as my heart pounds in my chest.

  Why would you do that?

  Had this become far more serious than I ever imagined without me knowing it?

  “You didn’t have to,” I reply, still staring at the photographs. I don’t want to hurt Luke, but I can’t help the relief I feel knowing I’m leaving to go on tour. Being on tour feels safe–right; this feels wrong. Maybe it’s because I led him on too long, and now I’m too afraid to break it off. Usually, the guy broke it off.

  What if he doesn’t?

  I shake the thought away, looking down at him and smiling. I shouldn’t want him to break it off. I really shouldn’t. Staring at him now, I realize I do. Luke’s just too perfect. He’s thoughtful, sweet and good looking with his tall frame and muscular build on top of his scene look–but the thing is, he just looks it. Luke doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t have a passion for music, or photography, for that matter. We have little in common, besides physical attraction; which happens to be just the way I like it. That makes it easier to say goodbye–knowing that there’s someone out there better for him.

  “I think it’s the right thing to do. I mean I’m not going to see you for six months, so the least I can do is bring you to catch your flight, right?” Luke says, sitting up and tilting my face to kiss me.

  “That’d be perfect,” I reply as he pulls away slightly.


  His eyes race over my face, seeming to memorize the contours. “Two months with you just hasn’t been enough.”

  I don’t respond. Instead, I lean in to kiss Luke, sliding my fingers up his shirt to slip it over his head. He sighs as my lips find his neck, and I pull his body over mine as I let my mind slip away and give into the physical attraction.

  Chapter 5

  Waiting in the airport has never felt as long as it does with Luke sitting beside me. Usually, I plug in my earphones and listen to music low enough I can hear when I need to board, but I figure that’s probably rude with him here. Instead, we sit in awkward silence as I tap my foot against the ceramic floor, and he rubs my arm.

  “Anxious?” Luke asks, and I watch as his forehead wrinkles. It causes a strand of hair to fall over his face, and he pushes it away.

  Was I? No, it’s more like uncomfortable. I’m not sure what to do in this situation.

  “Yeah, I guess. I can’t wait to get to Cali,” I reply, zipping up my sweatshirt a bit more against the chill. It’s raining again, and despite the umbrella Luke held over my head, my luggage and I still managed to get wet on our mad dash to the entrance. I’m glad that when the rain turns to snow, I’ll be on the West Coast.

  “Have you ever been there?” Luke asks, leaning forward on his knees and smiling at me.

  “A few times actually,” I reply. “My favorite place I’ve visited is Arizona.”

  “Why’s that?”

  A smile comes to my lips as I think of the deserts of Phoenix and how they transition into the red rocks of Sedona then finally the pine-tree mountain ranges of Flagstaff. “You pretty much get everything there– heat and snow–just by driving through.”

  Luke nods. “So how many states have you been to?”

  I swallow as I look at him, realizing how little I actually revealed about myself in the time we’ve been dating. The muscles in his arms tense, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.

  “Almost all 50. I haven’t been to Tennessee or Hawaii,” I reply. “Where have you been?”

  Luke sits back again, crossing his arms, so his tattoos bulge. The ink stretches and his Chinese dragon’s face contorts into something that’s far more frightening than beautiful. “Four including here…”