Clearly

I smiled softly as I flipped through the stack of recently developed photographs. By just comparing the rolls of film from our date to the roll of film he had originally asked me to develop you can see a great level of improvement. Maybe my advice really helped him, or maybe he was just working harder to try to impress me. The mere thought made me smile widen slightly as I remembered how adorable and eager he seemed when he’s peering through the lens of a camera.

I reached the end of the stack and couldn’t help but set the entire stack aside as I clutched the final print in my hand. I had already tucked away a copy of that print in one of my desk drawers. It was a photograph of an amateur, a high school student in love that wanted a picture with their lover, but it was beautiful. It’s simplicity shined and you can tell we were so happy together from this one, blurry, lop-sided photograph. To any person that doesn’t understand the internal struggle I’ve gone through that centers around Pierce and my worries, you’d think we’d be a happy couple that have been together for a while, though that is most definitely not the case. But the way the picture makes us seem to relaxed and natural gives me hope for the future.

But all that hope is quickly diminished as my most recent worry took center stage. It’s quite obvious that Pierce is bisexual, if not gay. I mean, he kissed me. That in itself is proof that he’s gay or bi, something that I totally wouldn’t have figured out if it weren’t for the whole date thing. He’s good at hiding it, which leads me to the assumption that he’s still in the closet. I’m definitely not in the closet, but my sexuality isn’t something that I broadcast to the world, especially the part of my world that contains my clients, but Pierce seems to be making me break all of my rules lately.

My biggest worry is the simple action of dating someone in the closet. By the looks of it, his family doesn’t know about his sexuality and the paparazzi definitely don’t because they’d be swarming all over it if they did, the disgusting gossip mongrels that they are. It would mean that everything we’d do would have to be secretive, just between the two of us. It wouldn’t even be a real relationship because we can’t go out in public and openly enjoy ourselves. We wouldn’t be able to hold hands or give each other the occasional hug and soft peck on the lips. We wouldn’t be able to do anything.

I mean, I’m definitely not for public displays of affection. I feel like it has more meaning when you’re affectionate alone, just the two of you being able to understand the true weight of a simple action like a kiss, but I’d want to be able to publicly show that, yes, Pierce is mine. I’d want to hold his hand or be able to give him a hug goodbye. That’s not asking for much, but I wouldn’t be able to do it. Hell, I can’t even be able to be seen in public with him because it’s Piece Gordon; handsome socialite, lady killer, the man that can do no wrong.

I really am in over my head.

But looking at the picture that was loosely clutched in my hand put all my worries at ease. Pierce and I just click wonderfully. We just got a long from the beginning, our chemistry being completely natural without being the least bit forced. Something like that can’t end up badly, right? Wouldn’t it be worth giving a shot? Things like that rarely happen…

I gently placed the print onto my desk before putting the rest of the pile back on top of it so that they wouldn’t be out of order when I give them to Pierce. I grabbed my cliché manila envelope and slipped them inside too, scribbling Pierce’s name onto the sealed envelope as well as the date that he had taken the pictures. The date of our first date. I gently tucked the envelope into my photography bag, noticing how this has sort of become routine ever since I started working for the Gordon’s, before I made my way into my actual apartment through my infamous bookshelf door.

My worries had evaporated, my mind now being relatively calm, as I ambled around my apartment mindlessly, boredom quickly consuming me. It’s about to hit midnight and I’m not the least bit tired, but I’m not in the mood to actually do something, such as take a walk. It’s one of those lazy days where you don’t want to do anything, but you want to do something, though that probably made no sense whatsoever.

Annoyed grumbles passed me lips as I raked my fingers through my messy hair, noting that I should probably get it trimmed soon, than an idea, probably a rather idiotic one, dawned on me.

I quickly jumped on my bed, grabbing the cordless phone that sat on my night table as I opened the drawer of my night table, pulling out a piece of paper with what is supposedly Pierce’s phone number on it. I held my breath as I quickly dialed the number into my phone, my eyes darting between the piece of paper and the actual phone in my hand. I let my breath out as I pressed the call button, bringing the phone to my ear anxiously as I carelessly through the number back onto my night table. A sigh of relief passed my lips as I heard Pierce’s rather groggy voice murmur a greeting to me through the receiver.

“Hey,” I murmured softly, “it’s Dalton.”

“Hey,” he said, his mood brightening slightly once I told him who it was that was calling him. “I was wondering who was calling my cell,” he mused.

“It’s my home phone number,” I explained, listening as I could hear him pressing a few buttons into the phone, probably saving the number for future reference.

“I’ve got to remember it,” he said around a quiet chuckle before some shifting could be heard in the background.

I furrowed my eyebrows as I cuddled one of my pillows to my chest, bunching it up as I lay my head on it. “Did I wake you?” I asked worriedly. “I can go if you’re trying to sleep,” I pressed on, suddenly regretting this simple phone call.

“Nah,” his voice rang out. “I was just dozing off while watching a movie. I’d much rather be talking to you anyway.” I couldn’t help but smile at his quiet confession.

“I just wanted to tell you that your prints are done,” I murmured into the phone, shutting my eyes so that the only thing I heard was his melodic voice floating to me through my telephone. It hit me full force, the way his voice is that of a singer’s, soft yet it commands attention. It’s beautiful.

“Really?” He asked, his mood seeming to suddenly perk up. “How are they?” He questioned me.

“They came out good. They’re better than the first roll you asked me to develop,” I elaborated as I held the receiver away from my mouth so that I could yawn softly.

“Will you bring them tomorrow?” He asked me excitedly. “I want to see them.”

“Of course,” I muttered. “I can’t deny you your own prints. I should have you know, I made an extra copy of that last one for myself,” I murmured, feeling my cheeks heat up with a blush. I’m such a nerd, admitting the stupidest of things.

“That’s adorable,” he murmured softly, calming me immediately. He thinks I’m adorable.

“Yeah,” I murmured softly, not wanting this telephone conversation to come to an end. I really do enjoy talking to this boy too much. He’ll be the death of me, I swear.

“You should make a photo album,” he murmured flirtatiously. “A little gift.”

“Hey! I let you use my baby, that’s gift enough,” I fought back, a small smile situating itself on my lips as we engaged in our playful banter.

“What? Too scared to show off your artistic skills with a scrapbook?” He teased me, making me roll my eyes though my smile only widened.

“What makes you think that you’re worth me putting together a scrapbook?” I shot back, raising my eyebrows in victory though he wouldn’t be able to see my actions. I must seem like a fool, gesturing to myself as if Pierce was lying next to me in my room instead of lying in his own bed in his own home as he talked me to via telephone.

“Well, you did kiss me,” he murmured.

I scoffed. “I believe it’s the other way around, Pierce,” I said, giggling softly for reasons unknown to me.

“You liked it,” he shot back, refusing to give up.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t,” I muttered, refusing to give in and allow him to win this battle so easily.

“Whatever,” he scoffed, slightly indignant. He seemed generally upset. What a child he is at times, thinking that I wouldn’t enjoy kissing such a gorgeous and god-like creature that I most definitely do not deserve. “I still want that scrapbook, though,” he pressed on.

I shook my head as I chuckled at his childishness. If he can’t win one battle, he has to win another. “I’ll make you a scrapbook for your birthday,” I murmured, giving in to his whims since I know he wasn’t going to let me win that one as easily as the other battle.

“That’s not soon enough,” he spoke. I could practically see the soft pout that was placed on those luscious lips that pressed themselves to mine earlier, my lips still tingling where his had touched my own.

“Gives you even more incentive to keep me around then,” I murmured, smiling victoriously as I realized that I had actually come up with a rather satisfying come back. I’m more or less an awkward person, a nobody compared to Pierce’s god-like presence that seems to outshine most of the world’s population, things like this don’t happen often with me.

“It does, it does,” he murmured softly, before there was more shuffling on his end of the phone and an almost inaudible yawn echoing in the background.

“I’m going to let you go because you seem tired,” I murmured softly, sighing as I realized that our time was cut short.

“Alright,” he murmured. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He checked again.

“Of course,” I murmured. “Good night, Pierce.”

“Good night, Dalton,” his voice floated through the speaker. “Sweet dreams.”

I carefully pulled the phone away from my ear, clicking the button that ending the call as I set it back in its cradle. How could I not have sweet dreams tonight?