Caught on Camera (Love Through a Lens, #1)

by Chelsea Curto

“Take all the time in the world,” he calls out. “You’re worth the wait.” “Do you use that line on every girl?” “You know there aren’t any girls.”

Tattooed arms, dark hair, light eyes that border on gray. Six-foot-six, with muscles in places I didn’t know people could be strong. He’s all-around handsome, but his smile is his most devastating characteristic. Wide and bright, it stops you in your tracks. It’s genuine and a little shy, like he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to live a life like this.

It’s jealousy, I think, not of the person but of their situation. Of having someone to come home to every night. Someone to share their day with, the good, the bad, and the mediocre moments in between.

Lacey tilts her head back and laughs, and it’s such a bright sound. It might be below freezing outside, but her laugh is warm. Inviting. Sunshine in human form, and one of my favorite noises.

A giant fuck you to anyone who’s ever told her she needs to tone it down, because Lacey laughs like she does everything else in life: without a care in the goddamn world. I like that about her.

Shawn spins his finger and I roll my eyes, turning to show him his name on the back of the jersey I’m wearing.

When the huddle breaks and the defense takes the field, he’s still looking at me, and I don’t see an ounce of strain on his face.

When she doesn’t pull away, I smile big and wide. She gives me a shy grin in return and I press my lips against hers, kissing my best friend in front of seventy thousand people without a damn in the world, just as snowflakes start to fall from the sky.

“Doesn’t matter. Fake. Real. I don’t give a shit. I take care of what’s mine, and right now, you are mine.”

She is mine—not in the literal sense. I don’t own her. She can do what she wants, and she knows that. That woman is as independent and fierce as they come.

“Fuck it,”

“Wow,” she whispers, and I look down at her. “It’s beautiful.” “Yeah,” I agree, but I’m busy studying every inch of her face. Her button nose. The slope of her jaw. The stars twinkling in her eyes. “It is.”