Then slowly he reaches into the bag and lifts out a black camera without a lens. Even from a distance, I can see that the casing is dulled, the neck strap ragged and worn. He holds the camera with both hands. The body nestles into his palms almost like a living, breathing creature.
An unexpected shiver rattles through me. I can’t tell if he’s cradling the camera as if it’s a live grenade or the most precious object in the world.
Suddenly he turns his head, his dark gaze crashing with mine. A gasp catches in my throat. I step back, feeling as if I’ve walked in on something unbearably intimate. Something I shouldn’t see.
Not a single emotion registers on his strong features. Shame curls through my chest and heats my cheeks.
“I was just…” I pause and clear my throat. “I’d appreciate it if you would ask before fixing things around here. I happen to like the loose newel cap at the bottom of the stair railing, okay?”
He studies me, his expression still unreadable.
“I mean, I’m glad you fixed the leaky faucet and the porch and all,” I continue in a rush. My heart hammers. “But the newel cap is…well, please ask.”
He nods once. “I apologize. Next time, I’ll ask.”
“Thank you.” Ducking my head in embarrassment, I hurry toward the front door. I’m halfway to the grocery store before I realize I forgot to ask him if he wants me to buy anything in particular.
I stock up on a ton of options, spending twice what I usually do for me and my father. When I return home, Darius’s car is no longer parked in the driveway.
And the newel cap is loose again.
CHAPTER 5
Nell
The bell signaling the end of homeroom buzzes, but most of the first-period art students stay in the classroom. It’s Darius’s first official day of teaching, and there’s a distinct excitement in the air.
“He’s so incredibly hot.” Brianna Lawson, a pretty blond girl with shiny pink lip gloss, casts an admiring glance in Darius’s direction as she whispers the remark to her BFF Julie.
Irritation scrapes my chest, though I’m not sure why.
Julie, the more practical of the duo, rolls her eyes. “Seriously fucked-up too. Probably has post-traumatic stress and nightmares and all that crap.”
“Who cares when he looks like that?” With a laugh, Brianna flings her book bag over her shoulder. “Come on, let’s find Emma before the first bell rings. I want to find out if Todd ever texted her back.”
Julie follows, slanting a glance at Darius as if to determine if her friend is right. After they leave, I follow her gaze.
Darius is standing in front of Ms. Meadows’s desk, his hands on his hips. The stance pushes open the lapels of his suit jacket, revealing his crisp, navy button-down shirt, gray-and-blue striped tie, and smooth leather belt. The only time I’ve ever seen him in a suit before now was at my mother’s funeral.
I managed to avoid riding to school with him this morning by telling my father I had an early meeting with my English teacher. I’d walked to school and picked up a coffee and scone on the way.
Though I’d lied, at least I didn’t have to start my day dealing with Darius’s unavoidable presence. Or being trapped in the car with him probably asking me questions I didn’t want to answer. Or making comments that hit me in uncomfortable places.
Not that I can avoid him forever. I just need to make it clear that he’s on my territory, even if he has changed the entire atmosphere of both my house and my school. But that doesn’t mean I need to let him change me.
Now he turns his head, as if sensing my stare. He says something to Ms. Meadows and crosses the room. Not wanting him to see my drawings, I close the cover of my notebook.
“Hello, Nell.” He edges between the tables and rests his hips back against the one in front of me. “Didn’t want to embarrass you by talking to you earlier.”
A humorless laugh sticks in my throat.
“You can’t embarrass me.” I fiddle with my pencil. “So what’s your plan for teaching?”
“I’ll start with a few lectures about the history of photography.” A rueful grin tugs at his mouth. “I’m sure all the students will love that. Since this class already has the basics down with digital, we’ll be able to focus on manipulating controls and improving composition. We’ll also do some experimenting with light. I think the best way to learn and understand something is by actually doing it.”
“Ms. Meadows says we’ll each get our own camera this year.”
“Yes, a film camera so you can work on darkroom and developing techniques. Everyone uses digital now, but I think film is still an important art form. And your school is lucky enough to have all the equipment.”
He pushes away from the table and walks to a wall cabinet, returning to set a camera box in front of me. I open it and lift out a heavy camera that has a retro feel with a black, textured body and shiny, metal controls.
“It’s a thirty-five-millimeter, single lens reflex,” Darius explains. “Semiautomatic, so it has an electronic shutter and light meter, but the controls are all manual. Basically that means you have to work harder to get the shot you want.”
I peer through the lens, framing a clay vase sitting by the window.
“So with a digital camera, you see your shot on the screen immediately,” I remark. “But with film, you have to wait to see the photo.”
“Yes. There’s no instant gratification with film.”
“But there are more surprises, I’ll bet.”
He nods his approval. “Exactly. And watching your photos develop in the darkroom is a good feeling.”
The bell for first period rings, and students start entering the classroom. Brianna and Julie walk toward their seats again, Brianna eying Darius.
I hand him the camera, startling a little when my fingers brush his. First time I’ve touched him in six years.
“Mr. Hawke, it’s so awesome to have you here.” Brianna sets her book bag down and gives him a smile. “It’s incredible, what you went through. You’re just so brave. My name’s Brianna, by the way. This is Julie. We’re super excited to learn from you.”
“Thank you.” Darius boxes the camera back up and returns it to the shelf. “I hope I prove worthy.”
“Oh, you already have.”
God. She might as well flash him.
I grab a pencil and focus on drawing a mandala design in my notebook. I’ve never understood girls like Brianna and Julie with their blatant sexuality. I’ve overheard them discussing their various encounters with both high-school and college boys, and I couldn’t prevent pangs of both disgust and something that felt perilously close to envy. As an eighteen-year-old who hasn’t even been kissed, I suppose my reaction was understandable, even if I’d never want to be as coy and giggly as Brianna.
At least Darius isn’t interested in reciprocating her flirtiness, if he even noticed it at all. He returns to his desk, and Ms. Meadows calls for the class to settle down.
“Mr. Hawke and I both know that you all have a lot of questions,” she says. “He decided that the best approach is to start with an introduction to his course and answer any questions you might have about his experiences. So with that, Mr. Hawke, I’ll turn it over to you.”