I Know.

I zoom into the subject, and I press the shutter. I only need a few more shots. I move around, taking shots at different angles. I love how the sun is setting, and the stage is just so well-lit. It's just so great for these photos, and I'm sure Alternative Press magazine will use at least two or three from this roll. I love working with photography everyday. It is something I love, and I get paid well enough.

As the show comes to an end, I use my pass to go backstage. I look around, looking for a good shot, and then our eyes meet.

He's tall and handsome, and his hair is dark. He waves me over, and my feet move before I realize that he's actually wanting to talk to me. He asks me, "Get any good shots?"

"I think so." I grin, "Do you think I could get some singles?"

He laughs and nods, "Yeah, sure."

He steps closer to me, and I can almost feel him. "If you move back five steps and look slightly off towards your left."

I adjust my camera, zoom into the musician, and my finger presses the shutter. I hear that soft click, and I grin. I like how he's willingly modeling for me. He doesn't even know me.

"You can look towards me, now." I say, with the camera still tight at my face. He looks serious at first, and a few shots later, he's grinning.

I pull the camera from my face. "Thanks."

"I didn't catch your name," William grins, "You know who I am right?"

"You're William Abbot, of course I know you."

He nods, and I continue, "I'm Lucas Dodger. I'm a photographer for Alternative Press."

"I can't wait to see your shots in the upcoming issue, Lucas."

I thank him for letting me photograph him, and I turn to move on to other musicians. "Wait, Lucas!"

I turn back around. "Yeah?"

"Will you come to other shows?"

"Depends on if my job permits."

He moves to me, and he scribbles on my arm, "Let me know, if you think we'll be able to see each other again. Oh, and nice tattoo by the way."

It isn't until I'm in the car, on my way back to work, that I realize his statement didn't really make sense. I look at my arm, and the ten digits make my stomach twist. He gave me his number and complimented my tattoo.

"Cy," Casey calls me over to his cubicle. "How was the shoot?"

I spill everything.