Prologue

PROLOGUE

T he first time we met was through the lens of a camera.

It was my last chance to capture the dazzling glow of the beach at night, tiny sea creatures stirred up by the waves. Distant laughter and music drifted over from the beachfront bar. Torches were arranged in a string of bright pearls that lined the wooden walkway leading along the resort’s shoreline.

As I swung my camera around, I happened upon a guy—dark-haired and tall, his skin tanned bronze in the shimmering torchlight. His head was thrown back in wild laughter, gripping a blond guy’s shoulder as he sketched out stories with his free hand. He seemed a couple of years older than me, eighteen or so, and I was instantly fascinated by the unrestrained happiness that shone on his face.

One picture, and I moved on.

It turned out grainy, dark, and smudged. I deleted it.