Polaroids

13| Luna

One month in and Julian and I have seen no problems. The plan has been working perfectly; Julian had become more famous and I have made more money than I could have made in two years. Julian has two interviews booked for today and I'm not required to join him since they won't be needing pictures so Harvey offered to take me shopping and show me around the city.

"I grew up in Memphis." Harvey speaks up and I look away from my shopping bag and up at him, his sparkling and bright eyes wandering along the strip.

"I left when I was 17 to try and start my career. In dancing." He looks down at me with a wide smile, his hands behind his back as he bounces next to me. With the separation of his words, as if what his current career is wasn't obvious to me, and the undeniably shiny look on his face, I can tell he is proud.

I don't see pride in too many peoples faces, at least not in the people I know. Or at least not the kind of pride that Harvey has right now. I usually see the kind of pride that covers up what people are truly feeling—guilt, embarrassment, shame. That's the kind of pride that leaves most people in a bed next to me and shirtless on my blog.

Harvey's pride is the kind that holds passion and satisfaction, hard work. The kind that I don't think anybody like me deserves.

"Do you ever miss it here? Is your family still here?"

He shrugs, a short sigh expressing from his chest as his wide smile fades into something lesser . "I don't know. I lived so many lives here...I loved my friends, the ones who were okay with me being half gay at least."

"You're bisexual?" I question, my tone oblivious and dully shocked.

He looks down at me with a raised eyebrow, confused as if it was obvious , and I guess it is, but I thought Rooks was gay and he's not so I don't judge anymore.

"I mean...yea, I am. Aren't you?" His head tilts at the same time that my eyes widen.

"Who? Me?" He laughs as I think about the question as a proposal. "I mean...I think women are gorgeous and wonderful beings...I don't know if I've ever been romantically attracted to one tho."

He hums, questions in the vibrations of his throat and in his eyes as a smirk rests on his lips. "Okay...well, what about sexually? You ever thought about being intimate with a woman?"

I hum, my shoulders raising into the most unsure shrug possible. "I had a crush on my middle school math teacher. She was my first real wet dream but i don't know—"

Harvey bursts into laughter, eyes darting our way as he giggles completely amused at my words. "Miss. Photographer, that is freaky as hell."

The corner of my lips curves up awkwardly, unsure of what or how I'm supposed to respond. "It's middle school, I mean, I didn't spend my early years having crushes. Especially not on boys my age—or people. I guess."

"So when did you have your first kiss? Real kiss, not elementary school kissing. I mean tongue deep, hot, French kiss, kiss."

I look away from him and ahead at the group of middle-aged women in high heels and sun glasses despite being dressed up in fur jackets and warm clothing to battle the chilly air. Harveys attention is still on me. "I don't know. Middle school. Eighth grade. It's not like that really matters tho, right?" I look up at Harvey for reassurance of some kind for some reason, but he just smiles.

"I guess it doesn't." Is all he said and we continued on with our shopping.

Harvey pulls me into a Forever 21, the teen pop playing lowly against the chattering. "Fifty percent off is my kind of deal." Harvey says before biting his lower lip and scouring through the racks of half off clothing.