Staplegunned, S/A - AU Ch. 12 - PG
Yep, chapter 12.
Chapter 12
Spencer found the convention center easily (conveniently connected to the hotel) and got her passes and schedule for the events of the next few days. She roamed the floor, trying to take in everything she saw and finding it…difficult. It was hard to resist the urge to take her camera out every 5 seconds and scroll back through the photos she and Ashley had taken that morning and the night before. There’d been a couple more rounds of capturing the image of the sleeping brunette, and several from before she got dressed in the day’s clothes, and the thought of them made her feel as if the camera was going to burn a hole in her bag if she didn’t check to make sure they were real.
She stopped to attend a few technique lectures and lighting demonstrations, but was only half listening. Flashes from the night before ran through her head, memories of skin and lips and fingers making her crazy. Stopping Ashley that morning wasn’t helping either, since it basically meant that she’d be a wreck all day, thinking of the petite girl and her roving lips (and what they might have done had she not stopped them).
It was while listening to a talk on composition that she took time to really think. She was well aware that she ought to be paying attention to the man droning up on the platform, but, in the end, decided it didn’t really matter.
Photography was about heart, there was only so much that technique could do. The rest was all you. Finding the subject, deciphering the right light for the setting, how to put the subject in the frame. In the end, it all came from intuition. Not books, not classes, not conventions.
Sometimes, however, it was just about capturing a moment; about needing to stop time at that precise second so badly that you don’t have time to think about it.
Those moments…those were the ones she lived for.
She thought of all the photographs she’d taken in her life: portraits, sporting events, concerts, weddings. They each held their own weight, but none of them were close to her.
She often went around her city, the history of it evident everywhere, and took shots of the old buildings, the tagging on the bridges, the people she saw, but still, none of it mattered. Sure, she’d won awards for some of them, had many of them published, had multitudes of people tell her that they loved her ability to do what she did, but none of that was for her.
Those pictures, those moments, were of other people…for other people.
She thought back once more to that morning, the frame-by-frame images she’d gotten of Ashley, the beautiful girl that had taken her by storm. She couldn’t get away from the picture of Ashley’s face; whether it was contorted in bliss, or peaceful as she slept, the lines and angles of the brunette’s face were imprinted on the insides of her eyelids and she saw them every time she closed her eyes. She could also, at a second’s notice, remember the taste and smell of her skin, so perfectly soft to the touch.
How in the hell had this girl, in one night, managed to bury herself deeper inside of Spencer than anyone ever had, ever? She’d had girlfriends, a couple of them semi-long term, and she couldn’t remember feeling this insane about them. Not even when they were in that stage where you want to know everything, do everything, be everything. Never.
And, thinking back, Spencer couldn’t recall ever having that much sex (okay, that much good sex), in one night. Ever.
She smiled, hoping that later on would be a repeat and not a giant setup for rejection. Ashley had seemed just as into their coupling as she had, right? She had gotten that vibe off her, and hoped she hadn’t read the petite brunette wrong. She hoped that the tiny smiles, the gentle kisses, and the sparkle in Ashley’s eyes were genuine, as genuine as she knew her own were. Because she knew she was at that dangerous stage where she could very likely get hurt if she didn’t get out soon. She nearly snorted at the thought. Having your heart break over one night?
It seemed crazy, but somehow, she knew it could happen, and every fiber of her being hoped it didn’t.
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