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“There’s good light coming through the trees.”
He finds a safe place to stop, and I grab my camera, and this time he follows me.
The forest is quieter a few steps away from the road, with the ground soft beneath our shoes and sunlight breaking through the canopy in narrow streaks. I take a few shots of the trees, then lower the camera and study the way the light cuts across Zander’s shoulder.
He catches me looking. “Do I need to move?”
“No. I’m looking at the light.”
“Sure you are.”
I raise the camera and take a picture before he can ruin it by posing. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“You’re the one photographing me.”
“I’m photographing the contrast. You just happen to be standing in it.”
His eyebrows lift slightly, but before he can say anything, I raise the camera and take another shot.
When I lower it, Zander comes closer to look at the screen. His shoulder brushes mine as he leans in, and suddenly I’m more aware of him than the picture.
“That came out good,” he says.
“It did.”
He studies it for another second, then glances at me. “You keeping that one?”
I look back at the image. He’s only partly in frame, more shadow and shape than portrait, which is exactly why I like it.
“Maybe.”
I laugh and bump him away with my shoulder. He catches my hand before I can step off, and instead of letting go, he gives it a small tug that brings me back toward him.
The kiss is quick, warm, and completely unplanned. By the time he pulls back, I’m smiling against his mouth, surprised by how easy this is starting to feel.
When he pulls back, I realize I’m smiling again. Zander stays close for another second, his hand still around mine, before he reaches for the camera bag on my shoulder.
“Let me get that for you.”
“You know I can carry my own bag.”
He slips it over his shoulder anyway, and we head back toward the truck together, close enough that our arms brush every few steps.
By late morning, I have more than enough photos to start working with. Shadows against bark. Broken stretches of road. Dark water against pale rock. The edge of the coast where everything opens up after miles of trees.
None of it is a cover yet, but I don’t need it to be. The album has started giving me a feeling, and the images are starting to support it.
We stop at an overlook above the water, and I take one last series of photographs before lowering the camera.
Zander stands beside me with his hands in his jacket pockets. “You getting anything good?”
“I think so.” I lower the camera and look out at the water again. “I’ve got a few ideas now.”
“That sounds promising.”
“It is. I just need to stop them from turning into bad album-cover clichés.”
He laughs. “So no dramatic ocean?”
