Page 29 of Familiar Things New

But he didn’t want to.

“All right, well, I’ll be right back, then, with my camera and—and everything else.”

Andrew hurried into the house.

“Take your time!” Edwin called after him.

Knowing Andrew, he’d probably hurt himself otherwise. Or maybe even still.

Affection and excitement continued to swirl in Edwin’s chest, their intensity easily overshadowing the lingering worries still lurking in the back of his mind. Waiting for Andrew to return, Edwin looked out one of the glass walls and watched the snow fall. Everything was white—the sky, the ground, the in-between. And Edwin shuddered to think how arduous it would be to walk home in. Inches had fallen since he had first arrived at the estate. How many, he couldn’t be sure, but it looked like it had to have been three or more. This was far from a peaceful snowstorm—like those that sometimes blanketed the city in the most wonderful tranquility—but was something brutal instead. It would be difficult to travel in, even by foot.

After several more minutes, Andrew came back with some of his equipment as well as little wooden boxes that he called plateholders. Edwin returned his eyes to the snow, his heart pitter-pattering madly, while Andrew set up his camera and tripod. How strange it was to like someone so much from a mere couple of knowing glances and an equal number of potentially flirtatious smiles. Strange and terrifying.

Edwin turned to see Andrew hiding beneath a black cloth he’d used to cover the bulk of the camera. Seconds later, he emerged, his brow furrowed and lips slightly pursed. He then circled around to the front of the camera, adjusted the lens, and returned to the same position. Edwin took a tentative step toward him.

“Would you mind if I had a look?” Edwin asked.

Andrew came out from under the cloth.

“Not at all.” He stepped to the side and motioned for Edwin to join him, his hands still lifting up the black fabric. “I think we can both fit.”

Edwin’s stomach leapt up into his throat. He hadn’t meant to suggest that they both huddle under there at the same time. Swallowing as much of his nervousness as he could, he walked over to join Andrew. He bent down to view the screen as Andrew threw the cloth over both of them. It took several seconds for Edwin’s vision to adjust. His heart continued to hammer, each beat sending a rush of excitement and longing and fear surging through his veins. Lightheaded, Edwin was still trying to make sense of the image on the screen when he caught a whiff of Andrew’s scent, the earthy and vanilla notes markedly more concentrated beneath the fabric.

Oh, God.

He forced himself to plug his nose from the inside and prayed that it would successfully block out the scent. Only then was he finally able to study the camera’s image more closely.

“Huh. I’m not sure why I hadn’t realized that the image would be inverted,” he said.

“I was surprised the first time myself,” Andrew said, his voice filled with a warmth that made Edwin’s face flush.

Edwin tried not to linger on the sweat collecting on his brow.

“Does it look . . . focused?” he asked.

“Just about. I need to adjust the bellows one more time, though, I think.”

Edwin waited for Andrew to leave. Seconds went by while they both remained huddled underneath the black cloth.

“Andrew?” Edwin eventually asked. “The, ah, the bellows?”

“Sorry, yes. I’ll, uhm, I’ll go.” There was a pause. “But it’s . . . nice here.”

Edwin exhaled a shaky breath as the weight of Andrew’s words settled within him.

“It is,” he agreed softly.

Edwin and Andrew’s mutual confession hung between them for some unknown amount of time, the words and their meaning stuck beneath the fabric with them, seemingly reverberating off the cloth walls of their enclosure while echoing in Edwin’s brain.

“I really should adjust it,” Andrew finally said, his voice now as unbalanced as the rest of him. “You can watch the image change on the screen while I move the lens.”

Before Edwin could reply, Andrew left. Edwin watched the image change, the leaves on the plants becoming crisper, their edges sharper, and then Andrew returned.

“I like that better,” Andrew said, his voice level again.

It was as though the act of adjusting the bellows had calmed him.

“Now what happens?” Edwin asked, even though he basically knew the answer.