With a secret, at least.

"Sure you can. I'll take it to my grave."

"Good, but," she put her hands on his shoulders and fixed him with a serious stare, "you can't ask a single question about what I'm about to say. After I get it off my chest, I don't want to think about it, and I don't want to talk about it. Can you deal with that?”

"Uh- yeah, I think so. But I don’t even kn-"

"Hush," she moved a hand from his shoulder and placed her index finger on his lips. It reminded him of the way she’d done the same when he found her under the bench all those years ago. "Don't say a word until I'm through. Okay?" All he could do was nod.

She closed her eyes with the weight of someone much older than 18, and after a few seconds spent collecting herself, she started talking.

"Something bad happened to me. Something really, truly awful. I'm not going to say what it was, but you can probably guess. And after it happened once, it kept happening to me over and over. I’ve never been able to escape it. It made me stop trusting men- No, it made me stop trusting anyone at all. And that's been a terrible thing to live with. Having to constantly be alone out of a fear that feels like it will never leave me alone.” The sorrow in her voice was palpable as he listened in horror. She was right, he had a pretty good about what had happened to her, and it pissed him off to a dangerous extent. If he knew who the bastard was...

She brought him out of his thoughts as she continued speaking. “Yet here I am, and for some reason that I can't figure out, I want to trust you. Maybe because I’m so lonely that I can’t stand it anymore. Maybe because I’ve really missed having a brother.” Maybe because your emotions are being messed with, he thought guiltily.

“But then you ask me to model for you, and I have this... thing settled in the bottom of my stomach like a cancer. So I'm just trying to figure out if you're someone I need to be careful around."

She walked over to where he sat on the floor, and sat next to him. She leaned against him and said, "You can talk now, but remember. I don't want to talk about it. That conversation is over and done with."

Even though he had permission, he chose not to talk. There was a lot to think about what she'd just told him, and there wasn't much he could say if she refused to talk about it. Instead, he put a protective arm around her shoulders and sat with her. This time she didn't cry. It was too familiar a pain to waste the tears on.

At some point he dozed off, so when he heard her voice he thought it was a dream at first.

"I'll be your model."

"Huh?"

"I've decided. You can learn photography, and I'll learn to trust again at the same time. We both win,” she said with a winning smile.

“What kind of photography do you have in mind? I’m NOT doing porn," he was going to tell her he'd never ask her to do that, but when he glanced at her face he saw a Cheshire look plastered across her face. Apparently, jokes like that weren’t off limits.

"Err... well we can do portrait photography. Like closeups of your face and that kinda thing. It’s pretty easy but you’ll probably get a little bored."

"I didn't say 'what kind of photography do you think I can handle' now did I? What's your dream?"

"...Model photography."

"I see. And I'll probably have to wear all sorts of different outfits, right?"

"Generally speak-"

"And some of those outfits might be more revealing than others, right?"

"Only if-"

"Right?"

"Eventually, probably."

"And you think I'm very stunning, right?"

A very scary question to answer right now, but she was going to find out eventually if they went through with this. "Extremely," he admitted.

Hands appeared on his cheeks, and suddenly he was inches away from her face. She'd quite literally turned his head.

"It's sweet of you to say so," she said. The light pink rising in her cheeks accented her delicate features in a way that enthralled him.

"I can't promise that I'll be okay, and it would mean the world to me if you'd respect that. If I say to stop, or that I'm uncomfortable, or that I can't do something... please don't get mad at me."

"I won't."

"And don't get mad if I'm the shittiest model the world has ever seen."

It felt good to laugh off the heavy atmosphere of that conversation. "You won't be!"

"We'll see about that, won't we? What time is it anyways?"

He glanced at his phone. "11:30pm? How long did I doze off for?"

"Like an hour, I think?"

"Holy shit! I’m sorry you had to sit there so long, that must have been the worst."

"I had a lot to think about anyways, so it was fine. You didn’t even snore!”

"Well shit. I guess I slept through all of our hang out time. I'll probably mess around with my camera for awhile before bed then, I won't be able to sleep right away." Time to play 20 questions with Cammy again.

"You couldddd... or we could... try a photoshoot tonight?"

"A midnight photoshoot?"

"Sure. We'll call it: Jessie Marshall - After Hours," she replied, striking an exaggerated pose.

Getting turned on right now was wrong for two extremely legitimate reasons, but that name sounded so dirty. "What do you say? If we don't do it tonight I'm going to be too nervous thinking about it to sleep! Maybe once I see what it’s like, I'll feel more chill about the whole thing.” She looked at him expectantly.