“Taking photos of strangers is kind of creepy, you know?” the person said. “Especially in the middle of the night… on a roof… when we’re the only two people around.” It was a woman with a British accent.
Drew stepped out of his photo-induced haze and back into reality. He looked down at his camera, suddenly self-conscious of his impulse to capture every moment. When he stepped back and assessed the situation, itdidseem kind of creepy. He stepped into the light so the woman could see him, then put his hands up to show he meant no harm.
“Sorry, force of habit,” he said.
“So, this is just a regular Wednesday-night activity for you?” He could hear the smile in her voice.
“EveryotherWednesday,” he joked. “Don’t worry, I was brought in to take photos of the party. I’m not just some creepy guy who lurks on rooftops.”
“Who says you can’t be both?” she asked, a playful lilt in her voice. “But if you are the latter, just know I have enough upper-body strength to dangle you off the edge of the roof until you cry and throw up. So… no funny business.” It wasn’t until she turned away from the skyline that he finally saw her face. She had deep brown skin and a halo of curly hair. She wore a blue dress with silver details that shimmered under the twinkly lights strewn around the rooftop. There was a glint of curiosity in her eyes. As if she was trying to figure him out.
“Well, I only have enough upper-body strength to carry a camera bag and a few spare batteries, so I’ll keep my distance,” he joked in response to her threat. She laughed. It was a warm, genuine laugh that instantly made him feel at ease.
“I’m Drew,” he said by way of introduction.
“Ari,” she replied.
Ari took a seat on a bench with a perfect view of the skyline. Then she gestured to the space beside her. Drew walked over, put his camera in his pocket, and sat down.
“Do you know how many New Year’s Eve parties there are in London every year?” she asked.
“Nineteen thousand two hundred and forty-six,” he said, not missing a beat.
“Really?”
“I made that up.” He shrugged.
“Well, let’s say therewerenineteen thousand two hundred and forty-six. What do you think the chances are that out of all the New Year’s Eve parties I could have gone to tonight, the one I agreed to is the same one that my least favorite person in the world showed up to?”
“I knew I shouldn’t have come.”
“You could have at least brought flowers to make up for ruining my night,” she teased.
“Damn it, I had one job.”
Ari was smiling, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Drew didn’t know her, but she seemed distant, burdened. He wanted to stop and ask her if everything was alright, but he was on assignment. He was supposed to be downstairs taking photos of the last ten minutes of the year. Putting his all into the kind of freelance gig that could give him the connections he so desperately needed. But he couldn’t leave a stranger on the roof by herself. Not when she seemed this sad on what was supposed to be one of the best nights of the year.
“Do you want to see the photo I took of you?” he asked. He was always inclined to make people feel better by showing them beautiful things. So, he picked up his camera and scrolled through until he landed on the photo of her silhouette framed bythe night sky. She examined it for a moment, swiping through a few more from the party, before studying him.
“You’re good at this. So why are you lurking on the roof instead of taking photos?”
Drew paused for a moment. Thinking about his grandma, college, and the life he’d just left behind was a part of it. But the truth was, he’d started to feel like he was intruding on the party.
“People stop enjoying themselves when they see a lens,” he said. Because as hard as he tried to blend into the scenery, eventually, the actors put their glasses down, and the athletes stopped dancing. He’d gotten a few good candid photos, but the moment he’d felt his camera making people self-conscious, he put it away. “They put on their best selves when there’s a camera involved.”
“But isn’t that what this is all about?” she asked, gently tapping his camera. “Capturing people at their best?”
“Their most honest,” he said. “If I take the photo before people realize, I get them when they’re being themselves.”
“It’s kind of like you’re trying to figure out their secrets,” she said.
He’d never looked at it that way but she was right.
There was a gleam in her eyes. “So now that you’ve taken a photo ofme, what do you thinkmysecret is?”
He paused and reached down to look at the photo on his camera again. But she gently put her hand out to stop him. Their fingers touched, his skin tingled. For a moment, time stood still. He met her gaze and held it.
“You can’t check your notes,” she said softly. “That would be cheating.”
