Whoever She Is

The next day, tour began as normal; early, and barely on schedule.

The good thing, though, was that Matt had a little company as he wandered around the venue, making sure things were in check as the room backstage got loaded up with all their band junk. Kimmi was there. She was up early to organise all her photography equipment on the first morning. He tried his best not to blatantly stare at her, simply throwing glances out the corner of his eye. She was pretty, to say the least, that was obvious. His eyes lingered on the length of her hair and just as she looked up, he quickly went back to scribbling in his notebook.

Another fifteen minutes of awkward dithering passed by before he got annoyed at himself. Grow some fucking balls and talk to her.

He walked over quickly, watching her sort through notes. She didn't see him. Or, if she did, she was choosing not to acknowledge his presence.

"So... how does the camera work?" Matt asked, giving himself a mental punch in the face for not coming up with a better opener.

Kimmi's head rose slowly, and she quirked an eyebrow as she took in his words. Pleased, and surprised, that he had started the conversation, she smiled.

"You press the button, and take a picture..." she laughed slightly, frowning at him. Was he stupid?

"Uh," Matt laughed too, to cover his embarrassment rather than actually find humour in himself, and shook his head. "Yeah. Obviously... Sorry to bother you, I'll let you get on with it..."

He walked away quickly, cursing himself under his breath and listening to Kimmi chuckle and shake her head.

That was the only time they spoke that day. But Matt found himself looking for her whilst he was up on the stage later, scanning the front of the barrier for a dark-haired girl with a camera. He couldn't see her and he pretended not to be disappointed about it.

Kimmi, however, could see him. He was a great distraction, which was kind of a pain, because it was opening night and she was supposed to be getting good starter photographs to advertise the tour and bands on Twitter.

Instead, she later discovered, there were about twenty- to thirty-odd pictures where she'd zoomed in on Matt in the background, and a lot of her photos of the actual band were out of focus and off-centre. Damn.

"Not my best work," she sighed to herself, finding another picture of All Time Low's attractive tour manager in her files.

It made her cringe to think she'd taken so many pictures of him without even meaning to -- she couldn't help it, he just looked good on stage; so involved, so into it.

But she had so little pictures of The Maine and All Time Low performing, she was going to have to make up for that tomorrow. She didn't show anyone the photos from opening night, and spent a long time musing over the pictures of the tour manager before deleting them all.

/////

The next day, Matt was in the dressing room of the venue peering into a box of supplies Kimmi had left on the table. There were a million bits of removable camera pieces the he didn't know even existed. He lifted a lens, something slightly familiar, and inspected it closely, curiously. Someone opened the door suddenly and he jumped, the lens slipping from his fingers and clattering to the floor.

"What are you doing?" Kimmi said, staring at him as he scrambled to pick up the lens and pray it wasn't smashed to pieces.

"I-- uh, I was just..."

"Were you looking through my stuff?" she frowned.

It was only photography junk, but even so, it wasn't exactly a good impression to make. Snooping was never okay.

"No, no, I just... I wanted a closer look at the camera equipment, so--"

"So you were looking through my stuff," she stated bluntly.

"Uh... um, yeah. I guess I was," Matt admitted sheepishly.

"Did you break that?" Kimmi came forward, pulling the lens out of his hands.

"N-no, I--"

"It's cracked!" she exclaimed in horror.

"Yeah, okay, a little bit, but I can pay for it, and get a new one," Matt urged, flustered.

He was feeling guilty already, despite his genuine offer to replace it. He spent the rest of the day moping and snapping at anyone who asked him a question after she begrudgingly forgave him.

Matt lay in his bunk that night, thumb and forefinger tugging on his lip ring as he came to the conclusion that Kimmi probably just thought he was a nosy, creepy asshole. Brilliant.