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And tonight it begins again.
I shake hands, laugh, smile, and repeat, and repeat, and repeat. I’m not meant for scenes like this, but what’s a career in photography without social connections? Networking is the word my manager likes to carve into my brain. I can already see the word forming on her lips as she’s walking towards me now. The furrows from her eyebrows are already stressing me out.
“Lance, you’re beginning to look awkward just standing there.” Allura, my manager, crinkles her nose at me in a way she always does when I’m not doing something right.
“And I’ll sound awkward going back out there.” I sigh and look at the people lingering around us. Some I’ve spoken to and some are people that would make me pull the fire alarm before I have to have a full conversation with them.
Allura pushes a strand of silver hair out of her face and purses her lips.
“We don’t come here to linger.”
“We don’t come here for anything. You come and I’m dragged.” I tug at my tie awkwardly. Allura is the last person on this planet I want to argue with and it’s all because I can never win with her. Maybe that’s why I’m successful after all.
Without her, I wouldn’t have a job doing what I love while working for fancy people with too much money, so I try to play by her rules. Put on the suit, come to the luxurious parties at the center of downtown, and chat idly about nothing in the bright darkness.
Everything considered, I hate social gatherings.
“What is this again? You said it was some kind of embellished book club or something right?”
Allura stares at me like she’s already explained this one thousand and twelve times, but I’m certain she’s only said something once or twice by now.
“It’s a celebration for the authors nominated for the “Garrison Private Award”, it’s a pretty exclusive award and desperately sought out by today’s authors. There’s already a clear indication on who will win apparently, but a party is always nice right?” She shrugs her shoulders.
“Wrong, but anyway, who’s the big-time author? Are they here?” I’m not very familiar with it, but I think the GPA is an award given to fiction writers. Fiction isn’t my first choice when it comes to reading. I basically have one choice and it’s always been non-fiction photography books. Reading for plot has never been my thing.
“Akira is the name I remember, but I can’t say I know what she looks like. I’m sure she’s here though, wouldn’t make sense for her not to be,” Allura glances around the room seemingly looking for someone who she’s never seen before. She gives up quickly and reverts her attention back to my state of loitering. “Anyway, the party isn’t limited to authors of novels. Plenty of other people are here that could use your name for a good picture, so get it out there. Next time I come to meet you I better be halted by the sight of you selling yourself.”
I roll my eyes only slightly. Anything more than that will get me an earful that I could happily live without.
“Don’t worry. Not a person here tonight will leave without knowing the name Lance McClain.”
She smiles at me confidently. “That’s the spirit.”
I smile back with negative 90% of the charisma that Allura’s had and watch her fade into the crowd. She won’t return for at least another 15 minutes. That’ll give me enough time to choose a target and figure out how to approach them.
I usually start out with a compliment and then I bust out any useless information I know about whatever I just complimented. Typically works with people who just like to be flattered; which is everybody. That’s what I normally say, but what I’d really like to outright ask is--
“These things suck huh?”
A voice lingers over the crowd in a way that lets me know it was meant solely for me. I consider it and then quickly usher away the thought of mind readers. It must be someone who overheard the last bit from Allura. Great way to get my name out there.
“I don’t think they’re so bad.” I turn around to see a man with the most glowing eyes I’ve ever seen. Have I ever taken a photo of someone with eyes that color? They’re violet, bordering on purple and God, I can’t help but wonder what they’d look like up against direct sunlight.
“Really? Maybe it is just me then.” The man looks almost disappointed in my response. For no reason at all, I want to say something that’ll change his expression.
“Well if we’re being honest here then I hate these things,” I laugh forcefully and my tone comes out fake and unsure. He probably thinks I’m lying to make him feel better now. I’m not lying, of course, but I do feel nervous. “I was actually just dragged here by my manager even though I’d rather be at home watching T.V.”
The words are water-falling out of my mouth clumsily yet he seems more amused than disappointed now.
“You could have just agreed with me from the beginning.”
“No one is ever honest about that.”
“It’s nice to meet you, I’m no one and you’re Lance McClain right?”
Any uncertainty I had about this night is vanishing into a sparkling mess of purple right before my eyes.
“That’s right,” I somehow manage to reply normally. “How’d you know? Have we met before?”
“No,” He shakes his head and I’m now noticing that he’s sporting a mullet. I almost want to laugh because who rocks that style anymore? But I can’t because this guy looks damned good with it.
“I walked over right around when you were telling your friend that everyone here would know your name before you left. That’s the manager who brought you right?”
I chuckle out of embarrassment. “Yeah, that’s exactly who that was. I wasn’t betting on anyone hearing that part, kind of squashes my credibility.”
The man looks at me and half-smiles. “I know your name now so I’d say it’s a start.”
It’s not the way I preferred my business conversations to go but he is right.
“Can I know your name?” Great way to ask Lance. Always business casual instead of business formal with you huh?
“It’s Keith. I’m an author who forgot to bring his business cards and received a nauseatingly long lecture from his editor over it.”
“Nice to meet you Keith. As you know, I’m Lance, who also forgot his business cards but oh so thankfully has a manager who carries spares,” I pull out my wallet from my back pocket and slide the piece of cardstock out, handing it to Keith. “Here.”
He reads it and grins to himself as if I passed him a secret note with an inside joke on it.
“I like the art.”
I roll my eyes and nearly yank the card back from him. My newest business cards have my contact info with an actual photo sample as the background. The ones that Allura has stashed in her car are my older cards with a cartoon sketch of me with a Polaroid in my hand. I drew it myself.
“Imagine my pain. It’s all I have since I forgot to bring the updated cards. If the contact info is the same, it’s all the same to Allura.”
“Your manager?”
“The one and only.”
“Guess we’re in similar boats then.” He says and looks at me helplessly. It feels like we’re the only two people in the room. The only two real people at least.
“So you’re an author? Nominated for the GPA I assume?” I ask.
“Yeah,” His eyes briefly shift away from me and dally on a few people nearby. “I am, but between you and me, I don’t think this award is that big of a deal. I just like to write.”
I wish I had that kind of attitude when it came to photography awards. I’d kill for some of those and beat myself up over it when I don’t win.
“Easy to say that when everyone already has a winner in mind huh?”
“You heard about that? The rumors are unbearable. Everyone here needs to just stick to their writings and worry about the award when it’s announced.”
“Having competition usually motivates people though right?”
“Yeah if the competition doesn’t give up before the race even starts.” Keith is starting to look put-off by this. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who would mind if we drop the business talk.
“Writing aside, what else do you do?”
He cocks an eyebrow and folds his arms. “Aside from writing, I don’t do much. I like to work on bikes I guess.”
“Bikes?” I ask. That’s cute. “You work in a bicycle shop or just do it for the neighbors?”
“Not bicycles. Motorcycles.” He corrects me, jumping from cute to insanely hot in a matter of seconds. I try my best to play my “bisexual, but I promise I’m not into every person I meet face”. I’m not into every person, that’s certain, but am I into this guy? That’s yet to be established, but I think I have an idea of where it’s going.
“Oh, cool,” I muster out in a very uncool way. “I like motorcycles.”
“Yeah?” Keith laughs, as he should and then looks at me with the slightest hint of uncertainty. “Do you wanna take a look at mine?”
And I think Keith is asking me to leave this hellhole of a party to go see his cool motorcycle. At this point I think I’d leave with him for any reason and I’d use my hatred for parties as an excuse under any given circumstance for him.
I nod as if my life depends on me leaving this place with him.
“Please.” I hate myself. “I mean yes, I’d like to see the bike. I hate parties.”
Keith looks like he’s suffering from at least a slight case of second-hand embarrassment, but he asked me to leave so he’ll have to get over that.
“Okay, I don’t see Shiro around so I think we can ditch through that exit.” He nudges at the back door by the bar. I think it’s safe to assume that Shiro is his editor. That reminds me that I should keep an eye out for Allura. I see her in the distance chatting up a storm with some people I’ve never seen before. She’s way too engaged to notice if I sneak out now.
I vaguely remember something about not going anywhere with strangers but I’m 24 and you know what they say, ‘If the stranger is hot, don’t give it another thought’. They might not say that, but I’m saying it right now because Keith is kind of hot and interesting in a way that pulled me in after a matter of minutes.
“Let’s go then.” I begin walking towards the door and I can hear Keith quietly treading behind me. The bluntness in his personality really does level out his quiet demeanor. He’s soft-spoken in a low and husky kind of way; he’s shorter than I am; he often breaks eye-contact. He’s just really cute no matter how I look at it.
We get outside and Keith takes the lead. “It’s parked over here.”
I follow him to the parking garage next door and up a short flight of stairs. He’s walking towards a glistening red motorcycle that I truly believe doesn’t belong to him but he’s still walking towards it and now he’s standing beside it and looking at me expectantly.
“Holy shit.” I walk closer, eying him suspiciously. This bike is fancy. Not like, “I’m really pushing my budget here because I like it”, but as in “this bike came from a humungous paycheck”.
I point at the motorcycle and then at him. “That’s yours?”
“Mhm,” He nods his head and displays a face of innocence, like a kid impressed with his own toy. “I fixed her up myself.”
“You what?” Okay so maybe it wasn’t bought with a huge wad of cash but the parts had to be insanely expensive.
“I fixed it up. Took me a while. A very, very long while, but she’s finally starting to shape up.”
Starting to shape up? What is the final product going to look after this?
“Let’s go for a ride.” Keith unlatches a red helmet from the side of the bike.
“I um,” I gulp. “I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before.”
“There’s a first time for anything,” He looks at me hesitantly, but not nearly as much so as I do him. “I’m good at it, you’ll be safe.”
Somehow I know he’s right, and somehow when he straddles the bike I find myself right behind him. The adrenaline starts to rush through me when he turns on the engine and I yell.
“We haven’t even moved yet.” He yells back over the engine.
“Motorcycles are just cool though!”
I see his shoulders shake slightly in front of me.
“Make sure you hold on.” His voice is quiet but the pitch carries itself through the noise of the engine roaring.
“To what?” I ask, looking from one side to the other for “oh shit handles” on a motorcycle.
“To me.”
“Oh, right.” That makes sense. I shakily reach for his waist and steady my hands there. My heart is beating a million times per second for so many reasons right now and it feels great.
Keith grabs my hands and pulls them around his abdomen. Now my heart just might burst. Does he know I’m nervous because of him and not just the motorcycle ride?
“You’re better off like this believe me.” Keith assures me.
Maybe it’s just from the overwhelming blast of red radiating from the bike, but the tips of his ears are pink. I wonder if he’s as wonderstruck as I am.
He pulls out a pair of gloves from in his helmet before strapping it on. The gloves come on next and they’re—I’m not lying about this—fingerless. This guy is actually wearing fingerless gloves and again I can’t even laugh at him because he looks so good. Suit, tie, fingerless gloves, mullet, and a huge red motorcycle? The last thing I could do is laugh at him.
I start to wonder about what kind of writer he is, but I’m quickly yanked out of my own thoughts and completely consumed in the sound of Keith revving the bikes engine.
He must have felt me tense up around him because he rubbed his thumb over one of my hands briskly before bringing his hand back up to the handle.
That meant something, right?
I’d look into it more if we weren’t moving now. We’re moving and it takes Keith approximately 10 seconds to get us down to the entrance.
I’m holding on for my life right now because Keith doesn’t know the definition of slow and frankly, I didn’t know it was legal to split lanes but I guess it is! Or maybe it’s not, I have no idea and I’m not asking.
It’s exhilarating though. The bustling city moving past us as if time is stopping only for us. I wish I could capture this moment. The city’s beautiful but I wonder what Keith’s face is like that. I’ll settle for mentally taking note of how his body feels with my arms wrapped around him. I’m enjoying every second with him.
“It’s flawless.”
“Did you say something?” Keith turns his head slightly in my direction.
“Watch where you’re going!” I yell even though no immediate danger was in front of us. “I said that this night is flawless!”
Keith didn’t reply and maybe that’s because what I said was cheesy, but the night is sparkling. I can’t let that go.
He rounds a corner quickly and stops the bike in front of a small café just away from the heart of downtown. I breathe in and out, trying to steady myself.
Keith gets off the bike, loosening my hands from him in the process. He takes off his helmet, turns to me, leans down, and kisses me.
I almost forget how to act like a normal fucking human being while his lips are slowly moving against mine. I regain repose and kiss him back.
My hands slip around him again and pull him off the curb; closer to me.
We stay like this because it’s late and no one is around to tell us to stop. And judging by the way we’re now kissing each other like it’s the last kiss we’ll ever have in our lives, we don’t want to stop anyway.
I smooth my hands over his back and lace my fingers through the lower strands of his hair. Why did I make fun of mullets in the past?
We stop to catch our breath and again, I’m mesmerized by the hues of his eyes. City lights reflecting on his complexion, pink lips courtesy of me, and eyes that will make me echo his name in my thoughts for years.
“We should head back.” He says, not yet moving, eyes downcast.
“We should.” I say. I stand up and hold his face in my hands, kissing him once more briefly.
“We should.” He repeats in a way different than I had meant it.
“Okay.” I sigh. What can I possibly say to him? I don’t want to go back? I’d rather make out with you until the sun comes up? One of us has to have their head on straight, so I’ll stay quiet and leave it to him.
Keith puts his helmet on and fits himself onto the bike. I follow in suit and position myself exactly as I had been before we stopped.
His ears are pink again and I don’t think it’s the lighting.
When Keith pulls into the parking garage we made our escape from, a not too pleased man is pacing around the spot Keith was in. He was on the phone up until we pulled up. At least I think he was.
Keith turns off the engine and groans.
“Keith! Where have you been?” The man walks over sternly. He’s not belligerent or anything like that but he is scary in his own way, kind of like Allura.
Oh, this must be his editor. Thank god I didn’t have a parking spot waiting for me, but I will have her scoping me out as soon as I walk in.
“I needed some air.” Keith takes off his helmet and attaches it to the side of his bike.
“Sounds like a phony excuse,” He takes in a deep breath and then looks at me like he just noticed I was there. “Were you at the GPA party as well?”
I nod my head and get off the bike. I extend a hand to him even though the high intimidation level is just pooling out of him.
“My name is Lance McClain.” I smile when the older man shakes my hand and doesn’t give me the same death glare he gave Keith.
“That’s two people down now.” Keith snorts.
“Still not the way I wanted to get my name out.” I glare at him momentarily until the other man catches my attention again.
“My name is Shiro. I’m this guy’s editor, and really sorry if he dragged you out of the party just because he was bored.”
“I’m alright. I needed some air too.”
Shiro sighs and shrugs. He seems like he’s used to this. They must be close.
“It’s nice to meet you Lance, I hate to be rude, but we have to go,” Shiro eyes Keith again. “There’s a few more people expecting him and the night is already almost over.”
“I understand, I should get back too.” I say, but the last thing I want to do is go back in there. I don’t have much of a choice right now. Maybe I’ll see him inside.
“Goodnight Keith.” I pause because he looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. I turn to walk around, my heart heavy now because I have no idea who Keith was and I’m not sure I’ll ever get a chance to meet him again.
“Lance,” I nearly miss my name being said but I turn around instantly when I hear it. “It was enchanting to meet you.”
I grin and it probably looks dopey. Who says that?
Keith. Keith says and does everything.
“I was enchanted to meet you too.”
Shiro raises an eyebrow at our exchange, making the moment a little less magical, but only a little. I walk away now for good. I can’t make a scene and declare a love I’m not certain of. I can’t yell at the top of my lungs that I want to see him again. I can just hope that we cross paths soon.
It’s 2 a.m. when I’m at home in bed wondering about Keith. Who he is, who he loves. I spent the entire car ride home blushing at the thought of us while Allura lectured me like a song on repeat. I wouldn’t dare tell her about tonight. How I ditched the party to make-out with a guy I just met and how I loved every second of it.
I fall asleep imagining him at my doorstep, repeating to me that he was enchanted to meet me.
“Lance.” A voice carries through my receiver. It’s Allura on the other line and I don’t remember answering this phone call. I think it’s her witchcraft.
“It’s so early.” I say even though I have no idea what time it is. I do know that I’d like to go back to sleep though.
“I didn’t know that you met Akira last night.”
I let her words sink in and actually give them some consideration this time. I definitely did not meet the prized author she was talking about last night.
“I didn’t. Why do you think I did?” I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes. No use in trying to go back now.
“You had to have. I received a call this morning from her editor. She’d like to meet with you as soon as you’re available.”
“I—I don’t understand. I never met her.” I think I’d remember someone with a name like that.
“No matter, we’re filling her in. I’ll check your appointments and get back to you.”
“Alright, I guess.” Allura hangs up without so much as a “goodbye Lance”.
Maybe this person found my business card on the floor and really wanted a photographer. I don’t know.
I open up the browser on my phone and search “Author Akira”. A sample of her books appear in the image section. Lots of romantic fiction. Definitely not my genre, and definitely not a topic of interest I remember discussing last night.
A twitter account comes up just above the images. Might as well dig a little deeper while I’m already here. There’s a post from 2:03 a.m. this morning.
“I was enchanted to meet you. Please don’t be in love with someone else.”
Enchanted. Enchanted? Keith? Is Keith Akira? Is Akira Keith?
“Wait a second.”
I pick up my phone and call Allura.
“Hello?”
“Allura, you said that you talked to Akira’s editor right? What was his name?”
“Takashi Shirogane. That’s what I have written down. Why?”
Shiro had to be short for Shirogane. Only one more thing to check now.
“How do you know that Akira is a woman?”
“I suppose I don’t. Her writing is typically in the genre of romantic fiction so I just assumed.”
It’s Keith, it couldn’t possibly be anyone else.
“Allura, please call Shiro…gane back and tell him I’m available at any time today if Akira is.”
“Where did this come from so suddenly?”
“I think I remember now and this will be a great opportunity for me.”
Silence rings through briefly until Allura speaks again.
“Okay. I’ll call right now.”
“Thanks Allura.”
“Mmm” She hums before hanging up.
I’m wide awake now. I get up and do my usual morning routine and afterwards I pace back and forth waiting for Allura to get back to me.
I can’t believe this. I thought he might have treated it like a short fling to relieve tension. I’m glad he was enchanted. The word comes off so magically, no wonder why he’s a romance writer. I said before that it wasn’t quite my genre, but for him I’d read an entire library of it.
I think back to the tweet and fight back a grin.
Please don’t be in love with someone else.
As if. This past night has felt like forever just wondering if he was as wonderstruck as I’ve been.
My phone vibrates in my hand and I nearly hurl it across the room from shock. I take a deep breath and look at the screen. Allura says that Akira wants to meet up at 4pm. That’s an hour and a half away. I shoot back a text asking for a location.
He chose the café we parked near last night. I can tell based on the address she sent. I know exactly where that’s at.
I try on 15 different shirts and comb my hair in 5 different directions before 45 minutes pass and I have to leave.
I get there early and walk inside. I try not to look too excited when I place my order of a single coffee for now and take a seat.
Then at 4pm on the dot, Keith walks in and looks around cautiously. He’s wearing grey slacks and a blue sweater. Definitely different than my own outfit, but if that isn’t Keith-esque then I don’t know what is.
He sees me and I can finally see the sunlight hit him just like I pictured it would. His eyes are lighter now than they were last night and I hope he doesn’t have anyone waiting for him. I hope he’s not in love with someone else.
He comes my way and takes a seat across from me.
“I didn’t know you were the famous novelist everyone was talking about last night.”
“It didn’t come up,” He chuckles. “How’d you figure that out?”
“Allura called me before my brain was even functioning this afternoon and told me that Akira wanted to meet-up. As far as I was concerned, I didn’t meet anyone like that, so out of sheer curiosity I searched the web and found a twitter account that kind of hinted at it being you.”
Keith’s face lights up red.
“Yeah?” He spat out not so delicately. “I’m going to get some coffee.”
Keith gets up and I reach for his wrist without thinking.
“I’m not in love with anyone right now,” I loosen my grip. “At least not yet.”
He looks mortified and relieved at the same time. “Good,” He turns away again. “I’m not either.”
I’ve never been into reading, but I’m hoping this is the very first page of our story line.