Protect Me Not ((Un)Professionally Yours 2)

“I didn’t say I take pictures of loneliness. I specifically used the word emptiness.”

“And you don’t think that emptiness translates into loneliness?”

“Not always. Don’t make more of this than it is, okay?” Ty sounded exasperated and defensive. He raked an impatient hand through his damp hair. “Not everything is a fucking metaphor for my sad life.”

She sighed and squeezed his other hand reassuringly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to psychoanalyze your hobby. It just seems like such a…” She bit back the rest of what she’d been about to say, and he shook his head.

“Uh-uh. Finish that sentence.”

“It seems like a lonely pursuit.”

His lips thinned and he stared at her through, dark troubled eyes. He reached out to tuck a curl behind her ear.

“Thank you.”

His words surprised her, and she stared at him bewilderment. “What for?”

“For caring.”

“Ty…” She really had nothing else to add to that. What could she say? Of course, she cared. It was hard not to. He was a young, vital man with so much life to live…but he was terrified of living it. “I’d like to see your photographs. I want to see the world through your eyes.”

His lips thinned, and his eyes shuttered, but he nodded. “Later. For now, let’s enjoy the rest of our walk.”

When they reached the long, long line to the Eye, Ty surprised her by bypassing the queuing crowd and heading straight to the fast-track line. Chance and Ty exchanged a few hushed words, before the Australian nodded. With a fleeting smile at Vicki, Chance stood aside as she and Ty joined the line. The group ahead of them was a loud, cheerful hen party.

“Hey, you wanna lend us your fella?” one of the not-quite-sober women called to Vicki. Her friends all turned to gape at them as well. There was a chorus of raucous “oohs”, and Vicki chuckled.

“What do you need him for?” Vicki asked. Ty squeezed her hand as if to dissuade her from engaging with the boisterous group.

“Only, Shelly here forgot to hire a stripper, didn’t she?” The woman complained, indicating toward a tall, solidly built brunette, who—despite the cold—was wearing a tank top, glittery hot pants, and platform heels.

“I told youse, I didn’t forget,” the overly made-up Shelly muttered moodily. The topic clearly a sore spot. “They was out of guys.”

The scoffing response that explanation got, was an indication of how little anybody believed that unlikely story.

“Well, how’s about it?” the original speaker asked Vicki, who pursed her lips and pretended to mull it over. She ignored the tight grip around her fingers that threatened to cut off her circulation.

“I don’t know,” Vicki mused. “What’s in it for me?”

The brassy blonde eyed Ty intently.

“Fifteen-quid cocktail voucher?” she suggested with a shrug but didn’t say to where. Considering the amount, Vicki was fairly certain it wouldn’t be a quality establishment.

Vicki bit back her grin and tilted her head consideringly. “My man’s got some great moves and a wicked sexy bod. I reckon he’s worth at least twenty-five, so I think I’ll give it a miss.”

“Aw, no worries then. Maybe we can convince a rando bloke at the pub to strip for us.” Vicki was having a hard time figuring out if the woman was serious. Before she could decide, an attendant gestured for the ladies to step onto the next, slow-moving pod. They all screeched in excitement as they tottered forward on ludicrously high heels and boarded their pod. They waved at Ty and Vicki before boarding.

“Twenty-five pounds?” Ty muttered, eyeing Vicki askance.

“At least,” she confirmed and he chuckled.

They had a few more minutes to wait before a pod was available for them. After they boarded, the doors closed, and shut them into their own private bubble.

“It feels like such a decadent waste to have this entire pod to ourselves,” Vicki said. She tugged off her hat and shoved it into her bilum, heading straight for the far window to stare out at the river. She had her hands planted on the railing and Ty came to stand behind her. His hands went to the railing, on either side of hers. His body was a warm, solid, wall against hers. She felt safe, protected, cherished, and perfectly content never to leave his comforting embrace ever again.

“I didn’t want you to have to fight for a vantage point. I wanted you to see whatever the hell you wanted from whichever angle,” he muttered against her hair. She leaned against him.

“This is amazing, Ty,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

He didn’t respond, but one of his hands left the railing and flattened against her torso, holding her even closer. They stood silently—appreciating the increasingly panoramic view—as their pod ascended slowly.

It took fifteen minutes to reach the pinnacle of the ride, during which time they separated and moved to different sides of the pod to check out different views. Ty got his camera out, an impressive, professional looking beast, with multiple lenses tucked into the bag. Vicki watched him surreptitiously. He was very at ease with the equipment, swapping out lenses with efficient ease.