I push the thoughts out of my head. For now.
When she leaves the café, I should watch her go and let her be. Focus on Ellie, her mother, my father’s once lover, the reason I came here.
But when Violet and her friend get up to leave, I wait a few beats and then I get up too. I watch them part ways outside, giving each other quick hugs before they go in opposite directions.
Violet is heading across the street, back to the school.
Without thinking, I trail her through the crowds like the wake behind a ship, the rapidly moving mist wrapping around her legs like exhaust.
She disappears back inside the photography building.
I stand in the fog and wait.
Chapter Five
Violet
Please, please let it be here, I think to myself as I hurry up the steps to the classroom. Luckily Anderson, my teacher, is still inside and at his desk, staring at his computer.
I quickly knock on the door and gesture through the glass at my seat while he waves me in.
“Sorry, sorry,” I tell him as I make my way over to the desk. “I left my scarf.”
“No problem,” he says. “I was just wrapping stuff up.”
I let out a huge sigh of relief when I spot it and quickly wrap it around my neck. It’s not like I have a shortage of scarves, but I always feel so horrible when I lose something. It seriously haunts me for days.
“Getting cold out?” he says, squinting through his glasses at the windows. “Haven’t seen fog for a few days down here.”
“Try living in Haight,” I tell him.
“I live in Outer Sunset, so I know what you mean.”
I really like my teacher, but this is the first time I’ve been alone with him and for some reason that makes me nervous. I don’t know why—he’s super approachable, friendly, and young too, in his early thirties, maybe. I guess it’s just kind of awkward and all I really want is to get out of here before I get sucked into small talk. Not that I have anywhere in particular to go.
Fortunately, I’m able to get out of there and leave Anderson in peace. I head back out of the building and into the fog, which is thicker than gravy now, sticking to the tops of the houses.
A shiver runs through me and I tuck the scarf in tighter as I zip up the top of my leather jacket.
“Excuse me?”
I jump slightly and whirl around to see a man leaning against the building, staring at me with a hesitant smile.
Normally I don’t give strange men the time of day (maybe another reason why I’m single) but I’d seen this guy before, just earlier when I was in the café with Ginny. I could have sworn he was looking at me then but figured it was in my head.
And what a damn fucking shame that would be, because now that I’m closer to him, he’s the type of guy a girl could have endless wet dreams about.
Tall. At least six feet.
Lean but packed with muscle, the kind that looks effortless, as if he’s got good genes and gets his rounded shoulders, wide chest, big biceps and forearms from manual labor. Even in his thermal Henley shirt—mustard yellow, a surprising color—his muscles are taut underneath the material.
Then there’s his skin color. A gorgeous tawny gold, the perfect summer bronze that sets off his dark hair and the low set of arched brows that frame his face.
God, I hope all of that took two seconds to observe and I haven’t been gawking at him like a fool. I immediately feel my cheeks start to go hot, my palms sweaty.
This is not like me at all.
I clear my throat. “Yes?”
“Sorry to bother you. I just had a question. You’re in photography, right?” He nods his head to the door of the building. It’s then that I notice the sweet photography bag with him. It’s a brand I wanted to get, only I didn’t have the money. “Do you know if they’re still accepting students?”
His shy smile gets wider and he straightens up off the wall.
Those teeth. That face.
I can’t place his age but he seems both young and wise at the same time, his eyes shining with years of experience and a strange naivety. They’re the color of amber—rich, glowing, and clear all at once. I feel like if I peered at him close enough I might see ancient life preserved inside of them.
I blink a few times, remembering how to speak. “You mean Anderson’s class?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I’m here scoping out the schools in the area.” His accent is American with a Hispanic lilt that makes me think he hasn’t lived here all his life. His voice is smooth and rich and seems to fill every part of me. “I know it’s late in the semester, but…it would mean everything if I could get in.”
I have a million questions for this guy, and yet when my mouth opens, I say, “I saw you earlier. In the coffee shop.”
He looks momentarily startled before his brow smooths. “You’re very observant.”
I shrug. “You have to be if you’re a photographer.”
“Touché,” he says. “So, did you like what you saw?”
My eyes widen. “What?”
“When you were looking at me. Did you like what you saw?”
Okay, a little bit forward. I normally would back off but there’s something keeping me in my place, preventing me from walking away, and it’s not that he’s giving me a smirk that’s just innocent enough to let him off the hook.
It reminds me of an old lyric.
Everyone told me love was blind. Then I saw your face and you blew my mind.