“Crap, forgot to get gas. Figures it would choose now to conk out.” She grabs the handles, kicks the kickstand and holds up her bike. “Becky, would you please escort me and Cassidy here to the nearest gas station?”

“Sure.” We walk in silence for a while before I feel I have to ask. “You named your bike Cassidy?”

“That depends, do you think it’s cool?”

“Not really.” But a small smile comes across my face.

“Then I didn’t….but yeah I did.”

“Do you always name things?”

“Yeah, doesn’t everybody?” I shake my head. “Well, their loss. I think things work better if you name them.”

“Oh yeah? What about your cameras?”

“This one is Crow,” she points the fancy one. “And this guy is Conrad,” she points to the older one. She runs her fingers over the camera. “We go way back. Won my first contest with him.” She tilts her head back as she no doubt starts to reminisce about something. “But Crow makes me look more professional, different lenses and all.”

We turn a corner and the gas station is down the block. Rayla goes into the store to activate the pump and I quickly search her name on my phone. Among reviews, analysis, and praise for her work; a website with her name on it appears. It has a minimalist design with neatly organized archives of her work separated into categories. Portraits, Landscapes, Fashion, Misc, and one called Stories. Opening the fashion archive, some of the most gorgeous human beings I've ever seen appear on my screen.

I scroll down to see the risqué outfits she mentioned and they are indeed risqué. She's taken pictures of girls like these, and thinks I'm pretty? Is she dumb? Partially blind? But then I remember what she said about the photos being edited, then the small pang of jealousy I have quells. Rayla comes back and starts filling up her tank.

She shoots a wink at me and I start to blush again.

“Why’d you leave New York City? There ain’t much for you here.”

“Oh, don’t be so modest. There’s always something somewhere.”

“That doesn’t make any sense and it doesn’t answer my question.” Rayla thinks about it for a moment, closing her eyes.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love my city. But I realized a while back that I’ve never left it,” she frowns “well I did once but that was a school trip. Anyways, then I got to thinking about some of my favorite artists, and how they traveled for inspiration or just for fun. So then I hopped on Cassidy here, chose a direction and…” she gestures to everything around us “here I am.”

The girl left her hometown on a whim.

“And how do you know if you’re where you should be? Seems like a good way to get horribly lost.” She looks me up and down before she answers with a shrug.

“Anywhere you live can’t be so bad. I wouldn’t mind getting horribly lost with you,” she says. A second of silence between us gives her the chance to think about what exactly she just said. Rayla clears her throat. “Anyway, so that’s why I’m here.” She seems particularly interested in a spot on the ground, turning her head from me. I’m not sure what to say in response to such a...heavy flirtation. She’s kept it light and playful up til now, but that, the way she said it strummed a heartstring or two.

Thankfully she’s finished fueling up and we ride home.

I hear the commotion inside before I get the door. I turn to Rayla,

“Brace yourself.”

“What for? Sounds like a good time in there,” Rayla flashes that smile of hers.

“Oh you poor sweet thing,” I reply while opening the door. As soon as we get into the main room my sisters (except Bonnie who already met her and Bella who is cooking), cousins and aunts swarm Rayla; asking her questions ranging from the entirely trivial to the incredibly personal.

“Why’d you dye your hair blue?”

“I thought it would look cool.”

“Is it true New York is riddled with crime?”

“I hope not.”

“Are you one of those artsy weirdo New Yorker or a straight-up gangsta New Yorker?”

“I like to think I’m both but probably just the first one.”

“Are you a lesbian or do you just dress like one?”

“That’s a pretty loaded question; don’t you think?”

“GIRLS!” My mother yells over all of them. “Give her some peace! Stop acting like a buncha harpies and get ready for dinner!” They all know better than to argue with her and clear out. “Sorry about that; sometimes they act like they ain’t never met a stranger before. Go on, sweetie, dinner will be ready soon. You can have a seat or wash up if you want,” my mother says with her soothing voice and a warm smile. As everybody starts to settle in, Rayla sits next to me at the table.

They’ve put on a big spread for our guest. For dinner, we have chicken soup with dumplings, cornbread, chicken fried steak, barbecue pulled pork, collard greens, rice and beans, mac ‘n’ cheese, candied yams, potato wedges, and for dessert Bella’s famous cinnamon buns; creating a mixed heavenly aroma that goes throughout the house. After a short grace we dig in, I make a plate for Rayla; one of everything for the guest and she ain't picky. She devours it all and asks for seconds with that charming smile of hers and everyone at the table practically jumps at the chance to oblige. I wave off their advances, taking this opportunity to do some introductions.

“Rayla, meet my crazy family. You’ve already met Bonnie,” I point to her at the end of the table and my oldest sister does a small wave. “That’s Bella, head chef tonight, and my second oldest sister.” Bella gives a nod. She has her long dreadlocks up in a bun on top of her head. I start listing my sisters in age order. “That’s Beatrix, Bernice, Bridget, and Bethany.” Each gives their little greeting. I move on to my cousins. “These are my cousins, Brook, Breanne, Bibi, Blossom and Begonia (identical twins),” as I list them I can see Rayla nodding along but I know that she’s lost and isn’t remembering all these names. Still, I press on, “and these are my aunts; Betty, Brandy, Blake, and Bea.” I finish making her second plate.

“Last, but not least, my mother: Beverley.” Sitting at the far end of the table my mom waves and gestures to everything.

“Welcome to the Dover B&B,” she says. A question forms on Rayla’s lips but she thinks better of it and just starts on her food.

After dinner when everyone goes about their business, Rayla starts doing her laundry and hops in the shower. She gets out with a towel wrapped around her torso and goes to her room.

I’m considering just going to bed when I hear Rayla call for me.

She’s sitting on her bed with her laptop open, still in her towel.

“I wanted to show you my website,” she explains. I keep quiet about the fact that I already saw it. She pats the space next to her, inviting me to sit. If she doesn’t care that she’s almost naked then why should I?

As she starts up her computer I try and fail to keep my eyes off her. That smooth dark brown skin of hers is still damp. Beads of water glisten in the light and lazily trail down her arms. Her blue hair is short enough that it’s mostly dry. Without meaning to I spy a tattoo on her back; it looks like half a ring with a rainbow color gradient like you see on editing software. It spans the space between her shoulder blades and the other half is hidden behind her towel.

When she reopens her browser a story called “Sparks Between Us” pops up which she closes.

“Doing some light reading,” she says with a shy smile. She goes to her website quickly scrolls past the fashion section to show me her misc works. They’re pictures of random things, each with a paragraph or so of text.

“I like to write lil’ stories for pictures. Not many read them, but I enjoy it so,” she shrugs “I still do ‘em.” she scrolls through them all. There’s a lot.

“Is it hard, writing up all those stories?”

“Every picture has a story in it. Or maybe I only think that cuz I do it for a living. But if you want to know what a person holds dear, look at what they take pictures of,” Rayla says. “Anyway, I just wanted to uhhh, show it to you. To let you know I’m not just some creepy bozo,” she reveals.

“If I thought you were a ‘creepy bozo’ I wouldn’t have invited to my home.”

“Fair enough.”

“And, if you were, I’d probably be in trouble since I’m on your bed and you’re just in a towel,” I point out. Rayla, for the second time today, just now seems to notice her state of dress and starts laughing in a burst of nervous energy.

“Oh, yikes. Yeah, I can see how that would send some messages.” She gets up while clutching the towel closer to herself like it’s doing something. “I’m going to check on my laundry.” Rayla leaves on that note. Seems the photographer can’t handle being noticed.

Well into the night when I’m up late for no reason again, Rayla comes out of her room. This time fully dressed in her track pants and a big black hoodie. She has her tripod and fancy camera with her.

“Can I get to the roof?” She asks me, unwilling to elaborate any further.

“Not really. C’mon, I’ll show you the top floor.” She follows up the metal staircase to the third-floor balcony. The cool summer air breezes by lazily this high up. There isn’t much to see, behind the house is the Drinking Gourd forest and in front is the town. A dark and small thing from this far at this height. Rayla has her phone out, with a compass app open.

She walks the entire balcony before getting to the easternmost point. Rayla tosses her tripod onto the roof before I can ask what she’s planning she runs up the wall and climbs onto the roof. Offering her arm for me to grab, I struggle to get up there with the same ease as her. Rayla manages to pull me up and we stumble together. I land on top of her, my face just inches from hers. The warmth of her body under mine radiates into the small space between us.

This close I start to take in whatever finer details I can in this low light. Her round nose, the gentle slope of her cheekbones, the part of her full lips, and how wide her brown eyes are. I can feel them scanning them my face and know she’s doing the same. Too many seconds pass in silence for it not to be awkward. We both start mumbling excuses as we straighten ourselves out. I clear my throat and needlessly play with my hair.

“You run up walls often?”

“Let’s just say that some of my best photos were taken while trespassing.” She offers a shrug with the statement.

“So why are we on the roof?”

“Well I’ve never seen these many stars before, being from the city and all,” she starts setting up her tripod. “And I wanted to do a long exposure shot of them till sunrise. Thought that would be cool.” She attaches her camera. “Also wanted to see the view from up here.”

“You’re going to stay up all night?” She just nods her head as she makes whatever adjustments she needs to the camera. Suddenly her staying up for three days straight makes sense. I just watch her set it up when she looks over her shoulder at me.

“Wanna learn about cameras?” She invites me over with a wave of her hand. Rayla starts going over the different parts of the camera. Her face lights up explaining what each part does. When I get behind the viewfinder, she comes close behind me. Her breath tickles my cheek while she goes over the function of each button and dial. I try to absorb what “shutter speed” is but Rayla has herself pressed against my back and I can’t concentrate. Her hands guide mine over the device, letting me know what to press but I only think about how soft her skin is.

“There, it’s adjusted for low light. Take a picture.” I click the button and take a picture of the forest. “See, you’re a natural!” She praises. Rayla aims her camera again to the east.

“Sun should rise right through those trees and it’ll be a great shot.” Rayla sits down and starts admiring the night sky. “Ya can’t see many stars in the city so I never bothered to learn them. You know any constellations?” She asks me. I remember some when Bonnie had a brief interest in astronomy. I point them out and a cool breeze sweeps over the roof. Shivering slightly; I’m contemplating going inside for a blanket when Rayla unzips her hoodie and wraps her arm around my shoulders, covering me in the soft fabric.

She pulls me in close to her so we both fit in the garment. I can’t resist the urge to rest my head on her warm body. We stargaze in silence. Growing up with these stars, I never thought much about them. But the fascination on Rayla’s face says this isn’t a common sight. If they make her this happy, I guess they’re good for something. I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open.

“You can sleep if you want to. I’ll wake you when the sun comes up,” Rayla says as she shifts to make me more comfortable.

“I bet you say that to every girl you stargaze with on a rooftop,” I joke.

“You’d be the first, babe.” She flashes that smile at me again.

“Oh, so you’ve done this with other girls before?” Her expression becomes blank. “Guess I’m just another notch on the bedpost, huh?” Panic quickly spreads over her face as I tease her.

“No! I-i meant you’d be the first to stargaze with me. Not that you’re the first girl I said that too, there-” I can’t help but laugh aloud at her visibly squirm while trying to correct herself.

“I’m just playing, relax girl.”

“Yea- yeah I knew that,” she tries to play it off but she sighs in relief. “I’d hate to ruin the vibe on such a nice night.” Nice night, huh? Her collar is slender, it takes me a second to find a comfortable spot as a gentle tiredness washes over me.

“Don’t try anything slick, ya hear?” She starts mumbling her response before I cut her off. “I’m kidding, Rayla.” She nervously chuckles again.

I think I might like messing with her.

I think I might like Rayla.

Chapter 2 End