Bullet ✔️

Chapter 17

Freshly recharged, I happily walked into my next job with a sparkly, green dress that the bride picked out for me, to make sure I fit in with the natural theme of the evening. It was very late in the summer, so the decision to have an outside wedding could either be disastrous, or very successful. I hoped for the latter as I set up my camera equipment for a photo booth, and hung another one around my neck for everything else.

My dress was a little small for my tastes, showing off a lot more of my thighs and cleavage than necessary, but the bride's dress was even smaller, so I thought I couldn't complain too much.

She was a lovely bohemian bride with a lacy white dress that just barely covered her private areas. It was see-through anywhere else. Her long, wavy blonde hair had flowers woven into it, and she kind of resembled a fairy queen.

All the lights were small and glowy, and all the decorations had hints of pine needles and acorns in them. A real natural theme. Thankfully, there was no one who told me I had to be barefoot, so I'd stuck my feet into the comfiest pair of black pumps I owned, and looked forward to a nice night under the stars.

A lot of people came by the photo booth and wanted their picture taken. A few even asked me for a copy, and when I said they needed to ask the newlyweds for it, they seemed a little angry with me. But it was a nice policy. They paid me, so they owned the pictures.

All in all, it was a nice wedding. Until he came.

I was busy adjusting the focus on the camera for the booth, looking through the viewfinder to check, when a man placed himself in front of it, and adjusted the silver cuff links on his dark shirt. I swallowed as a familiar earthy scent hit my nose, and I looked up, straight into a pair of dark eyes I hadn't seen since he pulled me into his lap in his car, and kissed me better than I had ever been kissed, almost two months ago.

Damian smirked at me, his eyes leaving mine for a brief moment to look at my dress, before we locked eyes again, and he said, "Hello, sweetheart."

He looked just as gorgeous as ever, even though his sculpted jaw was cleanly shaved. His black hair fell in loose waves down his forehead, and his shirt was unbuttoned enough for me to get a glimpse of the ink beneath.

"Hello, Damian," I said back, lifting my chin in acknowledgment before I dipped my head down to take his picture. His smirk was still evident, making my knees slightly weaker than necessary, before I straightened up and smiled at him.

He looked to his right, checking if there was a line, but there was no one waiting. "I'm not surprised to see the city's best photographer here."

If he was trying to flirt with me, or if I just hoped he was, I didn't know.

"I'm surprised to see you, though," I told him, putting on my best smile.

"I played soccer with the groom when we were kids," he explained, and I got an image of a black-haired little boy running as fast as he could across the pitch to score a goal. "I was just about to go get a drink," he said, walking closer to me and lowering his voice to the husky whisper he probably knew I liked. "Do you want one?"

I swallowed. "I'm working."

"Too bad." He grinned at me. That mischievous, teasing grin he had, as if that emotional kiss and goodbye never happened at all. He brushed past on his way to the open bar, and I could swear his hand lingered for a split second around my waist.

Chills ran down my spine, and the girls that had stepped up in front of my camera ogled him and giggled amongst themselves. "Is he your boyfriend?" One of them asked, and I assumed he was far enough away to not hear.