Chapter Seven

"Just a reminder that your persuasive papers are due on Tuesday." The students, eager to be dismissed, began gathering their belongings, which meant Charlie had to speak a little louder. "Here's a tip. Read your work out loud. If you're getting bored, guess who else might? Look for endless and confusing sentences. Hearing the words will also help you spot grammatical mistakes. I promise." She saw several nods from the more committed students and some jotting down of notes. "If you have questions, hang around after." She checked the clock. "I have ten minutes, and I'm happy to assist. Good class today. Have a great rest of your morning."

Charlie watched as the thirty-two students in her freshman comp section packed up their belongings and moved to the door. Only four or five hung back.

"I'm struggling with a compelling thesis statement," Zane Mullins said. His hair was disheveled as always, but that seemed to be the look he was going for. He shoved his printed-out draft in her face. There were scribbles in the margins and crossed-out lines throughout. Just the kind of revisions she'd hope to see on a draft. He really did try, which scored points. She read the introductory paragraph and nodded.

"You lay out the reason for your argument nicely, but watch out for repetition. That's why your thesis isn't packing the punch you want it to. You've already gone there earlier in the paragraph. It's a rerun."

"A rerun. Which is unexciting." His eyes went wide. "That makes so much sense. Thank you." He accepted the paper and backed away slowly like she'd just handed him the keys to a new car.

"He has it so bad for you," Ellie Tremble said with a shake of her head. Charlie smiled politely but chose not to respond. Instead, she looked over Ellie's shoulder to her laptop screen to answer her question about formatting. She enjoyed the one-on-ones with her students and often wondered if teaching might be something she'd be interested in continuing beyond grad school, should her writing career not go the way she hoped it would. The life of a teacher didn't seem so bad at all. She was feeling unusually optimistic today and wasn't quite sure why. She had a tiny hunch, however, that it was the dinner around her coffee table she'd had with Taryn. Their unexpected friendship had swiped her completely off guard, injecting interesting conversations, playful banter, and a new, intriguing pull in Taryn's direction. Charlie wasn't sure she'd ever experienced such a judgment-free zone in her adult life. Everyone she knew came with some kind of agenda these days. But Taryn? She was all heart, and in many ways, it felt like she'd filled an empty space Charlie hadn't even known needed to be filled.

She finished up with her students and checked her watch. She had an hour break and should rush home to grab an early lunch so she wouldn't have to carve out time later. She was actually a little sad that Taryn wouldn't be on her couch right where she'd left her that morning, looking sleepy and like she belonged. As she walked across the spacious lawn full of lounging kids and a group of guys kicking a soccer ball back and forth, she fired off a text to Taryn.

You didn't fall back asleep, did you?

Moments later, the dots danced beneath her message, which made her stomach tighten and a bolt of electricity hit. What was that? Why did contact with Taryn have such a powerful effect? She was simply at its mercy.

I'm shocked I didn't. My review is already up on Yelp. Five stars. How was class?

Charlie smiled, warm and on a high now as she typed.

Persuasive papers are due so lots of guidance needed.

Damn those dots and the happy anticipation they inspired. She rolled her shoulders and allowed herself to melt as she waited. Totally okay. Not everything needed its own analysis. Couldn't she just enjoy a new friend? She was going to.

You need to help me with my homework.

Charlie didn't hesitate. Anytime.

She slid her phone into her bag as she arrived at her car.

"Who's got you so smiley, ma'am?"

Emerson. Caught. Damn.

"I didn't even see you there." Charlie rested her back up against the driver's side door and attempted to deemphasize her grin.

"I know because you were somewhere else entirely. Somewhere kind of sexy, I would say."

Charlie felt her eyes go wide. "No. Nothing like that. I was texting with a…new friend."

"Oh yeah? For a minute there I was wondering if you and Danny were scheduling a midday meetup, if you know what I mean." She bounced her eyebrows.

"Unfortunately, no. I've got a busy day." And she and Danny had never done anything of the sort. Not that he wouldn't welcome it. There was a time when she would have, too. Everything felt different now.

Emerson nodded. "I feel you on that. I wish we could find a way to just slow things down a little. Enjoy each other. I'm jealous, if I'm being honest, of what you two have, but I have no time to date. Aren't we a pair?"

Charlie paused, attempting to translate. "Oh. You mean what I have with Danny?" It was a concept that caught her off guard. "You want to date someone like Danny?"

Emerson shrugged. "I wouldn't mind having something so set in stone. You and Danny are a lock, and that's something you can depend on beyond grad school."

Charlie blinked. "Right. That's true." She circled around how she felt and couldn't quite land. Part of her wanted to argue that things in her world weren't perfect. There was something missing, a click that never quite manifested. The fire, the passion, the hurricane of emotion that she'd always expected to catch up to them never quite had. But she could never admit that to Emerson.

"Well, I'm glad you're smiling. That's the headline," Emerson said, nodding toward Charlie's phone.

"Right. Totally." Charlie hooked a thumb over her shoulder, feeling strangely uncomfortable, as if she'd been spotted enjoying a rated R movie when she wasn't yet old enough. "I gotta run. Hope your day is a good one."

"That's the goal, but this semester has me questioning my entire slate of life choices." Emerson beamed through the proclamation, but Charlie didn't. Her stomach turned because she felt the same way. There was something just beyond the edges of her understanding that called to her, tapping her on the shoulder and asking to be noticed. A faint voice in the wind she couldn't quite decipher.

"I think we're all in that spot about now. Maybe it's because we're about to be shoved into the great big world without a net."

"That's gotta be it," Emerson said. "Take care of you, and keep up the amazing writing. And the Danny thing? Play it by ear."

Charlie blinked because was Emerson that intuitive? She understood that she was supposed to say something like What are you talking about? We're completely good. But she was feeling disoriented about her trajectory, and Emerson's advice actually landed. "Thank you. I think I will."

Charlie slid into the driver's seat of her used Nissan Rogue and did the one thing that might bring a smile back to her face. She messaged Taryn.

When do I get to see some of your photos?

Like water to the parched, it only took a few moments before she had her reply.

When are you free?

* * *

The hallway was empty as Taryn sat outside her professor's office studying the photographs that lined the hallway in 17x20 inch frames. The work all seemed to come from past students whose work had been deemed worthy of display. The choices were good ones and left her feeling inspired. She studied the captivating image of a ballet dancer midperformance. She was bending at the waist with her back leg extended, the stage light in the corner of the frame pointing directly down on her. The lines were beautiful and full of tension. She tilted her head, taking in the use of highlight to direct the eye impressively. Taryn wanted to be that good, to capture a moment, ice it with beauty, and create interest in a subject otherwise overlooked.

"Taryn, are you ready?" She stood from the uncomfortable black metal chair, ushering her thoughts back to the here and now. Her professor, who'd asked the class to call him Roger, stood in the doorway to his office. She was his two o'clock and more nervous than she probably should have been. Each member of the class had been asked to sign up for a time to meet with Roger to go over their progress before moving toward final projects. In many ways, she felt like she'd been playing catchup. Most of her classmates had experience before Roger's narrative photography class. Meanwhile, she'd been relying more on instinct than technique, scurrying to apply technical skills they already seemed to have. To compensate, she'd been reading beyond the given assignments, tearing through trade magazines, online message boards, tech articles, absorbing as much on her own time as she could.

"Have a seat. Have a seat." Roger often said things twice, she'd found. He was also a nice enough guy, if intense when it came to craft. His office certainly mirrored his personality. The walls were dark. A futuristic-looking lamp stood tall in the corner and served as the only light source in the room. A variety of photographs, likely his work, hung in metal frames on the wall. A black-and-white portrait of a child. Car headlights in close-up. A group of people leaping into the air at the same time in the middle of a forest. She tried not to stare but also attempted to gulp it all in. "How do you like the class?"

"I love it," Taryn said without even thinking. While she still had a couple of basics to get out of the way, the three courses in her field of study kept her energized, learning what her future just might have in store. She wanted to capture and create. After a few months of living in the photography world, she was gone on the art form. "I just sometimes feel like I'm winging it."

"I don't think so," Roger said, frowning. He thumbed through a series of shots she recognized as hers, along with their attached specs and notations. "The series from the on-campus protest is compelling. What made you choose to cover it?"

She nodded. She'd been on her way to class and came upon a group of students protesting a speaker on campus. "I saw their angry faces, jagged movements, and the way they stood united and knew there was a visual story there. It made me late to my Spanish class, but I think it was worth it."

"You weren't wrong about the story." He set one photo on the desk and slid it in her direction. "This one in particular resonates." It was a shot of a girl who'd sat down on the lawn, her sign face down in front of her. "Defeat."

"That's exactly what it was."

"You have an eye for the quiet moments. That's been your most powerful trend." His finger pressed just shy of the photograph. "But don't get too poetic. That's a trap. The grit is every bit as worthy. I'm going to encourage you to get messy. Get ugly. You said the word jagged earlier."

"Right. That's how it felt."

"I like the inclination. More of that. More of that." He met her eyes with a fire and vigor in his.

Taryn understood the note and also knew it was contrary to her nature. She wanted the world to be a beautiful place, so perhaps that's the reason she seized the quiet humanity within a tense situation, like the angry protest. "I hear you. I will work through the urge to soften."

"I also want you to continue to work on the technical. Use foreground images for orientation in your darker shots."

"Okay." She wrote a note. "I hear you."

"And get yourself more practice in the darkroom. Sign up for extra slots, and I'll okay them. You're overexposing your photos by a hair. Pull back."

"I can do that, too. What else?" She was hungry for this kind of feedback. It motivated her in a way she hadn't been prepared for.

"Make it a goal to learn from the others in the department." He sat back, both hands resting on the back of his head. "The truth is I see a kernel of something really cool going on with your work, but you're green as hell."

A compliment and deflater in one. "I know. I feel it."

"What would you say to me pairing you up with a student mentor? We've done it before to great success."

"I'd be all-in. I want to get better." She was sitting on the edge of her chair. Her heart pumped double time, excitement building. If Roger, who she very much respected, saw something in her, then maybe she wasn't off base in her pursuits. "Great. I think I'll have Ashley reach out. She's a semester from graduation and one of my top students. She's got a good eye and well-developed skills behind the lens. I think you two will hit it off."

"Thank you. Awesome. I'll wait to hear from her." She stood, sensing their chat had come to a close.

"Thanks for stopping by. And Taryn?" He leaned forward.

"Yes?"

"You're doing great, okay? Work on the things we talked about. Get uncomfortable, and I don't just mean in your work. Push yourself. Fucking push yourself." He stared at her, letting the point linger in the air. "That's how you achieve what you never thought possible. You hear me?"

She turned the words over in her mind. She was committed to taking his advice and would search out ways to push herself beyond her comfort zone behind the lens and in life. "Every word. I'm gonna do just that."

"Hit me up with whatever questions you have. I'm happy to be your cheerleader or worst nightmare of a critic."

She paused. "I think I need both."

He laughed, low and full. "Let's talk again in a couple weeks."

"Cool. Thank you." She left Roger's office more energized than ever. She vowed to keep her camera with her whenever possible and find the messy side of reality just as often as the picturesque. Energized by their meeting, she spent an hour walking through campus, grabbing shots, experimenting with shady spots and her f-stop. By early evening, she had an email from Ashley Wendell, asking her if she'd want to meet up in the lab in a couple of days. Roger had delivered on his promise to pair her up with a mentor. Taryn couldn't type her acceptance fast enough. Things were truly starting to come together, and doors were opening. Was it surprising that the first person she wanted to share her news with wasn't a member of her family, or Caz, or any of her new friends, but Charlie? No, because some things never changed.

An hour later, she paused in front of Charlie's apartment, her portfolio tucked away in her bag. She raised her hand to knock and froze at the sound of Charlie's voice. "It's open. Come on in."

Taryn opened the door and searched the empty living room for Charlie. "You're invisible. Where'd you go?" Taryn called.

Charlie jutted a head out from the hallway bathroom. Her hair was wet, and she wore a fluffy white robe that crisscrossed her chest, offering a generous glimpse of cleavage. Whoa. Okay. Taryn swallowed and glanced away as nonchalantly as possible, ordering herself not to steal another eyeful. Yet she did anyway. Holy fuck.

"I grabbed a shower. Give me five." Charlie frowned. "What's going on? Why are you looking at me like you almost just got hit by a car?"

"I'm not." Taryn focused all her energy on the dark television screen, gathering herself. Yet Charlie was likely naked beneath that robe, and she couldn't unknow it. Pivot. But when she turned back to Charlie in an attempt to change the subject and mask her overt reaction, she saw Charlie's features change. She looked down at her neckline, and back to Taryn. Her cheeks flamed and she held up a one-minute sign before disappearing behind the closed bathroom door.

Taryn tried to swallow back the regret but was unsuccessful. If she'd made Charlie feel uncomfortable or objectified, she wanted to right things between them at the soonest possible opportunity. Embarrassment swarmed as she paced the small expanse of the living room, searching for words that would bury the last five minutes. Her face was still hot and her palms itched. Her crush on Charlie was beginning to cause problems and interfere with their friendship, and that meant Taryn had to do everything in her power to kill it. She would, too.

"Fuck," she said quietly.

* * *

Alone in the bathroom, Charlie gripped the pedestal sink. Her heart thudded, her mind raced, and her body was turned the hell on without anyone issuing permission. What was happening and why? This wasn't like her in any way, shape, or form. The white robe that had felt fluffy and light just moments before now oppressed her overly sensitive skin. She loosened the tie and let the robe fall open. Deep inhale. Her breasts ached ever so slightly, and her thighs were trembling. She touched her cheek with her palm as if to erase the heat. The desire to be touched then and now rocked her.

She couldn't have this reaction right now. There was a guest in her home, and not one that should bring on such an overwhelming sexual response. Would Taryn be able to tell? None of this was ideal, but at the top of that list was the source of her attraction. A kid she used to take care of? Okay, well, maybe not so much a kid these days, but still. They were at different stations in life, which placed caution tape all around Taryn. No. No. Nope. Time to move the hell out of this whole line of thought. Just as she tried, the memory of Taryn's gaze moving across her exposed skin flashed, and her limbs went liquid all over again. The way Taryn had immediately looked away, respectful of the boundary, only added to the allure. A forbidden moment.

Charlie dressed quietly, leaving her hair to air-dry, and chalked up the reaction to an isolated anomaly. She was likely in the midst of some kind of hormone surge and should check her calendar.

Deep breath. She forced a smile on to her face and shook off the strange event. "Sorry about that," she said, as she emerged from the bathroom. "But I'm ready now."

Taryn, standing across the room in the kitchen, whirled around, and her dark hair swung and landed on her shoulder. Effortlessly gorgeous. Luminous brown eyes and thick dark hair. She naturally appeared more thoughtfully moody than thrilled with the world, and damn, it worked for her. That was Taryn. Unaware in her brooding perfection. Until today, Charlie thought she was jealous of how cool Taryn presented. Today, she felt more confident that another reason crept beneath the surface. "No problem. Just studying the, uh, backsplash." She touched the wall. "Love this green and gray tile. The craftsmanship is just…top."

"I'll tell the rental office." She gestured behind her. "I just needed to stand under a warm stream of water and decompress for about twenty hours. Have you ever done that?"

"More times than I care to count. They're also great for crying." Taryn's gaze hit the floor. She got the feeling that Taryn regretted the confession seconds after she'd made it. She remembered Taryn's anxiety and the struggle to tame it privately, which maybe explained why she held it in until the shower. Heartbreaking.

"You wait until you're alone?"

"Yeah," Taryn said quietly with a nod.

"You don't have to do that, you know? Come cry here. I have a shoulder." Charlie moved closer, took Taryn's hand, and squeezed it. When she did, something vital clicked in place and the vibrations of the world around them went quiet. Charlie knew unequivocally that their connection was meant to be. They were destined to be something together. She could feel it all over the second their hands came together.

"You don't understand how much that means to me." She attempted to continue but couldn't, emotion strangling her words. Her hand fluttered to dry the tears that had gathered in her eyes. Charlie gave her hand a squeeze and waited patiently, allowing the moment to move at its own pace. Finally, Taryn lifted her gaze and sent a grateful smile. "If it helps, there's less shower crying these days. Since you." That statement brought on an avalanche of feelings Charlie didn't know how to receive, sort out, or handle. She stared at their hands and made the choice to let go, unequipped in the moment. To distract them both, she walked to Taryn's attaché on her kitchen table.

"Show me your work. I've been excited to see it."

"Okay," Taryn said, as if waking from a dream, and joined Charlie next to the table. "I'm a little nervous."

The only thing that hinted at nerves was the quiet quality of Taryn's voice. Charlie was learning her signals. Her hands were steady and purposeful—beautiful, really, now that Charlie was focused on them. Her nails were neatly manicured, and her slender fingers were graceful in their movement from one side of the portfolio case to the other. She already knew how soft Taryn's hands were after just having held one. Charlie flashed on an image of their fingers intertwined, Taryn's on top and Charlie's resting on the sheet beside her as she looked up into those determined brown eyes. Her stomach dipped and clenched. Yep. She'd just gone there.

"Should I ask again or just give you a minute?"

Charlie blinked a few times and found her anchor in the here and now. Taryn had just said something. "Sorry. My bad. I drifted."

"You're having a day, aren't you?" Taryn asked gently. Everything about her was.

"Yes," she said, seizing onto the lifeline. "It was a really grueling afternoon, but I'm happy to be here with you now."

"Are you sure? I can go if you'd rather some down time."

Charlie bumped Taryn's shoulder with her own. "You better not. I was promised photos."

They held eye contact a moment. It was rather wonderful, and Charlie didn't look away. She was learning to not be afraid, but it was a process. "I was just asking if you wanted to see examples from my narrative photography class or my portraits."

"Let's start with portraits."

Taryn flipped to the right side of the case and pulled out a stack of 8x10s. As Charlie took in the first one, the world went still. It was a photo of an older woman, maybe in her early eighties, standing in front of a window, her face turned to the camera. The light clung to one side of her face, bringing every detail of the life she'd lived into startling focus. Her gaze was trained on the camera with a hint of a smile directed at the lens. "They brought in a handful of men and women from the assisted living center over on Delmont to pose for us. That's Annie. She was amazing." Taryn tapped the photo reverently. "She made me work for it, but her face had so much to say."

"I can't even imagine the stories she could tell." Charlie couldn't stop staring. There was something haunting about the shot, and triumphant at the same time. "I feel like she's been through a lot and has emerged victorious." She nodded at the photo, absorbing every detail of the moment Taryn had so elegantly captured. "I suppose in a way I identify."

Taryn paused.

Guilt struck. "I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"I just didn't imagine my shots having an effect on anyone." She met Charlie's eyes. "It's an honor, in a way."

"I like that better, because this is a very moving photo, Taryn." She went through the rest of the shots, laying out her favorites on the table and offering her insight and reaction to each because Taryn seemed to gobble it up, just like Charlie did when someone read a piece she'd written.

"You don't think the distance causes a disconnect?" Taryn asked about her photo of a rather happy-looking man sitting sideways on a chair.

"No. That's the best part. The shape of his body in contrast to the chair offers a certain amount of…I don't know. Tension."

Every inch of the room seemed to tighten with that word, as if the walls might pull apart at any moment, giving way to something Charlie couldn't quite voice.

"Yes. I agree. Tension," Taryn said softly, her voice smooth and quiet. "It's powerful stuff." They shuffled through the remaining twenty or so photographs that Taryn had selected to print. Charlie was astounded. She wasn't an expert, but this didn't feel like the work of a beginner. "Are you sure you haven't taken courses in the past? Not even an intro back home?"

"No, but I'm eager to learn, so I spend most of my free time reading photography journals, even when they don't fully make sense to me, and fucking around with my camera."

"You might be the only undergrad I've ever met who grabs a journal instead of heading out to Toby's with their friends."

She grinned. "I like Toby's, too. I've always been the type to consume myself with new and exciting things, and right now that's photography. I'm actually meeting with a student mentor my professor set me up with."

"I love that," Charlie said. "Let me know how it goes, because these"—she picked up the stack—"have really surprised me. You have true talent, Taryn." She watched the color hit Taryn's cheeks.

"That means a lot. Thank you." The vibration of a phone interrupted their exchange, and Taryn grabbed hers. "Speaking of Ashley-the-mentor, she wants to know if I want to go on a shoot with her."

"And do you?"

Taryn hesitated. Charlie sensed she didn't want to be rude and flee the scene.

"Oh, don't worry about me. In fact, I think you should go. I'm just going to chill and probably be really boring. You're not going to miss a thing."

Taryn tilted her head. "Are you sure? I just want to show her that I'm eager." But Taryn had been zapped with a shot of energy the moment that text message had come in, and Charlie didn't want to hold her back.

"I'm sure," she said, pulling Taryn into a hug. "Go be great, and catch me up later."

Taryn's arms went around her, and Charlie went still because she felt them all over. Her skin tingled in the spots Taryn held her, and she didn't want the moment to end, which was the exact reason it had to. And fast. She dropped her arms, stepped back, and wrapped them around herself. Luckily, Taryn hadn't seemed to notice and busied herself gathering her photos.

"Thank you for having confidence in me." Taryn's eyes were soft, which meant Charlie's words had resonated. "It makes me want to get out there and prove you right."

"You will. I believe in you."

Taryn, in the midst of lifting her portfolio case, turned, grinning. "Yeah?"

"Definitely."

The smile expanded exponentially. It reminded Charlie of the sun warming her face on a cold day. "The way you smile," Charlie said, shaking her head in awe. "It's amazing. You should know that."

"That's funny. I feel the same way about yours." They shared a moment of eye contact that felt important.

"I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"You definitely will. Bye, Charlie."