At Your Most Beautiful, Harper Bliss [books to get back into reading .TXT] 📗

so she was in charge and it was her job to create a relaxing atmosphere. So many people believed that being a photographer was easy. That all you had to do was push a button on a camera and apply a filter afterward. Maybe for some people, that’s how it was, but for Quinn, it was an art form.

Taking someone’s portrait was an intimate act that required a vibe that couldn’t be created in the blink of an eye—or with the push of a button.

She smiled at the portraits she’d made of the other Acton Academy teachers as she walked through the hallway. Mr. Stephenson flying above his piano, only tethered to it by his fingertips, as if the ecstasy of making music made him float into the air.

“Quinn,” a voice followed by the quick pitter-patter of heels came from behind her. “You’re early. Wonderful.”

Quinn greeted Indira, whom she’d gotten to know well over the years she’d worked with her.

“You know the drill,” Indira said. “We’ll set up in the dance studio.” She led Quinn up the stairs to an obscenely large room with the shiniest polished-wood floor Quinn had ever seen.

A woman stood silhouetted in front of the window. A shape Quinn would, even after all those years, still recognize anywhere.

The woman turned and the face that had haunted her dreams—and fantasies—for much longer than she cared to admit, was now directly in front of Quinn. The woman whose name she’d had to keep to herself for ten long years. Quinn gasped and her body froze.

“This is Maya Mercer, our new dance teacher,” Indira said. “Maya, Quinn will be taking your picture today. She’s a wizard with the camera as well as the computer for post-production so you have nothing to worry about.”

After the initial shock of seeing Maya again had subsided, Quinn studied her face. Maya looked just as stunned as Quinn felt. Clearly, Indira hadn’t given her much detail about who would be photographing her today.

“Quinn and I know each other.” Maya was the first to speak. “Her parents were my neighbors when I lived in Milbury.”

“Well, then,” Indira said. “You’ll get on like a house on fire.” She turned to Quinn. “I know you like to be left alone while you work so I’ll leave you to it.”

Quinn managed a nod. She couldn’t take her eyes off Maya, who was wearing a bright red dress and matching lipstick. Already, a dozen ideas of how she would make Maya look in the final version of her picture popped up in the back of her mind. But Quinn couldn’t grasp any of them. Her brain was too perplexed, too busy processing that Maya was standing in front of her, in the flesh. She might be ten years older, but she still looked as gorgeous as she had done that night.

“Quinn, I—” Maya said, tilting her head slightly. “I had no idea.”

“You’re the new dance teacher at Acton,” Quinn stated the obvious.

Maya huffed out some air. “Didn’t your mom tell you I moved to the city?”

Had her mother told her? Quinn didn’t think so. She might have, but it could have been one of those things that her mother said that Quinn hadn’t really listened to—although the mere mention of Maya’s name would have perked up her ears. Quinn hadn’t been home in a long time, although she spoke to her parents regularly—her dad still called her every single day, but Quinn didn’t always pick up. She did make sure to always text him back because she didn’t want him to needlessly worry about her.

“You live in New York?” Even though Quinn had absorbed the first shock, she was still having trouble processing what Maya was saying. She blamed the red dress that clung to her body like a second skin.

“Yes.” Maya put her hands on her hips. “I know you can’t tell by looking at me, but I’m a grandmother now. I wanted to be closer to Tommy and his family.”

Quinn chuckled. “Well, fuck me.” She brought her hand to her mouth. “Sorry. That kind of language is not tolerated at this school, nor should it be.” She gave a slight shake of the head. “Maya Mercer.” She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. “Let me assure you that you really can’t tell by looking at you.”

Maya beamed her a wide smile. “How are you, Quinn? Still, chasing…um…” She made a show of scratching her head. “What was it that you called me back then? A cougar?” She burst out laughing. “Please, tell me you’ve gotten over that phase and you’re with a nice girl your own age these days.”

Quinn believed the best response to that was to simply laugh alongside Maya. “I’m on a job,” she said, after a few beats. “It would be inappropriate to discuss my love life.” She was dying to find out more about the status of Maya’s love life, though.

“Of course.” Maya nodded at Quinn’s camera and equipment. “Shall we do this?” She glanced back at Quinn. “I’m so happy that you actually became a photographer.”

“A long time ago, someone I can’t possibly mention urged me to follow my dreams.” Quinn should start setting up her lights, but she seemed frozen to the spot, gorging on Maya’s delightful presence.

“Why can’t you mention them?” Maya sounded coy enough for Quinn to conclude that she knew exactly who and what Quinn was referring to.

“It’s a promise I made.”

“Looks like they were right, though. Whoever they might be.”

“At least about one thing.” Quinn painted on a smirk.

“Are you going to take my picture now?” Maya asked.

“Yeah.” For the life of her, Quinn couldn’t wipe that smirk off her face. Not only had she not expected to see Maya again, but she most certainly hadn’t expected her to still look so smoking hot. Although, in the end, it really wasn’t a surprise that she did. Perhaps what had really happened was that Quinn hadn’t allowed herself to think about how beautiful Maya would look now.