Chapter 19

NINETEEN

I still can't get over Alek Anders apologizing to me.

I didn't think he knew how to, but there he was, apologizing in a tiara. It doesn't change everything that happened—it's just too messy between us. I need to focus on my studies, but I'll admit it softened me to him. I stopped purposely, not looking his way this morning, and the little grin he wore was almost one of vivacity. I tell myself it doesn't mean anything.

All thoughts of him disappear soon, though, because today is a big day.

It's shoot day, and I've been working toward this all week. All my planning, location reconnaissance, and information gathering has led to this. It's a big part of my grade, and the professor finally signed off on my proposal at the beginning of the week. I didn't want to waste any time on starting it.

I head to the equipment building, picking up everything I need. Luckily, Lally and Tommy are assisting me today, and they are already waiting to help me haul everything to the location I chose—the park.

It's one of the first places I found when I explored Pine Valley, and it's beautiful right now. The weatherman forecasted sun today, but I had my fingers crossed all week just in case. Fortunately, they were right. The sun shines brightly, warming us as we set up near the water with blossoms in the background. People mill about, looking on curiously.

Once I'm content, I step back. "Okay, my model should be here soon. Lally, you're on makeup. I want sleek and minimal. Think Vogue . Tommy, you are helping me with lighting, right?"

"Yes, you've told us a million times. It's going to be great, Evvie." He slaps my shoulder. "Oh, hey, look, there's your model."

I turn to see Terrie heading my way, grinning. I wave, so happy she agreed to be part of this. I know a lot of media students wanted her. She's beautiful, like drop-dead stunning, and so kind, and she agreed to help me if I would assist with her figure studies class. She said she liked the way my body looked, so it's a good deal.

"Hey, Terrie." I hug her. "Thank you. I won't take too much time. I know you have the film later as well."

"Never too busy for you, Evvie." She grins. "Let's do this."

"Let's."

Despite my nerves, I give it my all.

This is what I want, this is my future, and I'm never happier than I am when taking photographs. Today is no different.

We spent two hours shooting, and Terrie hurried off after, but I think I got everything I needed. The photos are going to be amazing, I just know it. She was a natural, letting me direct her how I wanted without complaint, and the camera loved her.

After turning my equipment back in, I thank Lally and Tommy by buying them a meal before heading back to campus. Technically, I have a month to get the pictures turned in, but I'm eager to see and edit them, so I walk to the photo lab. There are a few other students using the computers in here, all with headphones on, so I pick one at the back and plug in my hard drive.

When they load, I could cry. They are so pretty and exactly how I imagined them. Sometimes, it's hard to translate my ideas into reality, but these are exactly how I wanted them to be, and I feel so proud as I prepare them for editing. I can do this. This is what I'm here for—to become a photographer. Forget everything else.

I spend the next hour picking out photos I think are the best and ready to edit. I'm so lost in my task, I don't even hear someone next to me until they tap on the desk, making me jump. My head snaps up.

"Evan." The professor smiles when he sees me sitting in the photo lab, peering at the unedited pictures on the screen. "You did your shoot today. How did it go?" He sits on a rolling chair, and I lean back, my eyes aching.

"Good. They haven't been edited yet, but I think they are what I wanted."

"Can I see?" He raises his eyebrow, and I nod. The professor rolls closer and clicks through the unedited, raw files, and my heart races at his silence. Nervousness fills me as well as excitement.

The minutes drag on, and I worry when he finally sits back, watching me for a moment.

"The compositions are beautiful. The coloring, the lighting, even the model . . . Everything is perfect." He smiles, and I sag in relief, but the smile disappears. "But it's missing heart, purpose, a story. It's missing emotion. We capture images to convey something. All these show me is perfection. It has no passion. Do you understand? I don't just want to see your technical skills. I want to see you and who you are. Find out what you want to take pictures of. Remember what inspired you to get into photography. Was it something you saw and couldn't resist capturing? Find out what you're passionate about, Evan. These pictures are good, but they aren't going to get you where you need to go, and I know you can do better." It's said nicely, and the criticism is meant to help me, but I crumble.

I keep it in, though, and nod as he stands, squeezing my shoulder. "Don't take it too hard. You still have plenty of time. I can teach skills, but I can't teach heart, so find yours."

Fuck.

I slump back, defeated, and stare at the photos. Is he right?

I was so worried about them being beautiful that I forgot the first rule—why I'm taking them.

I picked Terrie because she was gorgeous, and I picked the park because it was perfect. He's right. I'm not saying anything with them. Not only did I waste his time, but I also wasted this whole day. Packing up in defeat, I wander around campus, feeling dejected.

I don't know what I'm going to shoot now. I was so sure. What if I'm not meant to do this? What if I'm not good enough to be a photographer? What if I have no original ideas or passion for it? What if all this time, I was chasing this dream, but I'm not good enough for it?

That thought bums me out more. There are plenty of talented photographers out there, but it takes more than being proficient with a camera to be successful. It's understanding what you're taking and the audience viewing it. It's what I've wanted to be for so long, and I can't imagine doing anything else.

I know I'm overthinking, but how could I not?

I think over everything my teacher said as I walk. Is he right? Do I have nothing to say?

What am I passionate about?

Taking photos, that's all I know. I've never really considered my object/model to be my passion. They're just an instrument I need to use. I've never felt connected to or emotional about them, and maybe that's the problem. Maybe I need to find something that ignites my emotions.

Only one thing pops into my head right away—Alek Anders. Good or bad, I feel when I'm with him. I feel stronger than I have ever felt, like he taught me what true emotions are.

Rage, desire, happiness, guilt, and want are all magnified with him.

As if my thoughts conjured the asshole, I see him before me.

I don't know how or why I ended up at the park once more, only that my feet brought me here. Hell, I can still see where we were shooting earlier. It's later now, but there he sits, alone on a bench, with a sandwich in one hand and a book in the other. His eyes are locked on it, his brow furrowed slightly. My heart kick-starts. It's like I come to life when I see him .

Every argument, fight, kiss, and stolen moment fuels me.

Before I realize what I've done, I lift my camera and take a picture. It's black and white because the settings are fucked, but as I look down at it, I realize it might as well be the first real photo I have ever taken. It's raw and gritty, but it has emotion.

There is longing, want, hatred, and desire.

It captures what it's like looking in from the outside, never quite fitting in or getting what I want.

This is the passion my teacher was talking about. I could turn in those other images, but they would pale in comparison to this quickly shot photo. They are empty. Pretty, but empty.

He told me to find my passion, and I did, it just so happens to be Alek Anders, and that's both a good and bad thing. My life seems so entwined with his, like the threads of fate keep bringing us back together.

What we have together is just that—passion. It's fucked up, but it's something worth exploring, even if it hurts in the long run. It might not be everyone's version, but it's mine, and maybe by exploring what makes me feel, I'll start to understand and become a better photographer.

I decide to take one more chance with him.

I tell myself this is the last time. I won't come back after this if he kicks me away again. No more hot and cold. This is it.

Taking a deep breath, I sit silently next to him. I know the moment he notices me, his inhale loud, but I just stare down at my camera.

"Evan?"

Not rich boy, not an insult.

Just my name with a lilt of hope in it.

I know no matter where this goes, it'll be worth it.

It's worth all the pain it can cause.