I work on my newest song while Nova finishes her project.
Sometime later, she says, “I’m done. You can look now.”
I set my guitar aside and hop off the couch like my ass is on fire, but I’ve been dying to see this thing forever.
I jolt when I see it.
“Is that … that’s me?”
She grins. “You can tell?”
I nod, my mouth slack, completely blown away by the complexity of what she’s done. I see now why it’s taken her weeks to complete. Pictures of me, and her, are laid out together in a way that forms my profile. It’s remarkable.
“You’re amazing,” I tell her, and bend to kiss her.
She wraps her arms around my neck. “You think it’s good?”
“I think it’s fucking incredible. I’m framing it and hanging it above my bed when you get it back.”
She laughs, positively giddy. “Really?”
I nod. “It’s incredible. So are you.”
She kisses me again and releases me. I look down at all the photos on the table.
Pictures of my hand on her hair, her hand on my chest, our legs tangled together. So many intimate photos placed together.
“What’s your professor going to think of this?” I ask, worried that she might get marked down for the sexiness of it.
“She’s cool with it. I told her my idea early on and she thought it was unique and couldn’t wait to see it.”
I smile and kiss her again. I can’t seem to stop kissing her. Or touching her. I’m like a moth drawn to a flame.
“Nobody else is going to see this, right?” I ask. “It’s not like you have to present it to the class.”
She laughs and shakes her head, her messy bun bobbing. “No. Just the professor.”
“Good,” I breathe. “One stranger seeing me in my underwear is enough.”
She frowns, thinking maybe I’m not okay with this. “None of the photos show your full face and if it does it’s shadowed.”
“I’m messing with you,” I tell her. I look down at the photos again. It’s truly amazing and I understand why she chose to title it Moments. It’s perfect. I kiss her again quickly and back away. “I’m going to call Cade and tell him about tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” she asks, puzzled.
“W.T.F.?”
“Oh, right. Sorry. You’ve said that like three times. I’m just distracted.”
“Mhmm,” I hum, watching her carefully as she straightens the pile of unused Polaroids. Something tells me her distraction is more than her project, and I worry that I might not like what is.
***
Nova
I gather up the Polaroids I didn’t use and carry them to my room, putting them in my drawer where I keep my letters.
My letters.