“I’m a photographer, Alex. Look, I know I didn’t say anything before, but this is exactly why I didn’t, and you went and did it anyway!”
“Well, you didn’t say anything, but I kind of figured it out with the big camera and whatnot.”
“No, Alex.” I opened my eyes and looked at him. I could feel my lip starting to quiver and bit it, trying to hide my frustration. “I’m a photographer—as in, that trip was comped, and I was getting paid to be there. This is what I do now.”
His face shifted to deeper puzzlement. “On Instagram?”
“That’s how it started, with Ion. He was tired of the photography and trying to figure out how to self-promote on Instagram, so I took over his account. That was me behind the camera, me posting and figuring out hashtags and Stories and how to position him to grow his fan base. And I’m really good at it. Not just the marketing, but the camera.”
Alex watched me. “I didn’t mean that you aren’t good at it.”
“I know that. And I know there’s photographers out there who are better than me, but you, you pick up everything I do, and you rub it in my face and make me feel small and inadequate.”
“I don’t—” Alex started.
“Yeah, you do. Do you remember when I ran the London Marathon to fundraise for that children’s charity? I went around our friend group and my mother’s social clubs to get people to pitch in. I did months of training and then, suddenly, you’re running the race, too, and you tripled what I raised and then, finally, we ran the race and you came in so much faster than I did.” A tear slipped down my face, and I brushed it away. “And then I had been talking to Coach Johnston to train me for that regatta in Malta, and suddenly he emails me back with, ‘I will be unable to make a commitment to you, I’ve been hired by another team to coach.’ And shocker, it was you. It sounds small and dumb when I say it out loud, but you always dig your way into my favorite things, and it’s honestly, just not that much fun when someone’s always coming along and besting me. Over and over again.”
I sat up a little straighter, my anger building. “You’re always there, Alex, and I won’t let you take this away from me too.”
Alex’s jaw had set, a flush rising in his cheeks. “Right, okay, you don’t want me to take up photography, fine.” He turned and, despite his anger, carefully packed the camera away.
“Don’t turn this on me to make me the bad guy. You’re always swooping in, and you’re always better.”
“That’s not… that’s not what this is about, Nikki. I’m not trying to take your career away. I just . . . I thought we could do this together.”
“By beating me all the time? You’re competitive, and so bloody awful about it. That is not a good plan.”
His jaw tightened further, and I could see that I’d hurt him. “Fine, forget it, Nikki. I’ll return the camera. I’ll leave you alone to do your own thing, okay?”
“Fine.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest. We stared at each other for a beat and then Alex started to pull his clothes on.
“You make it sound like I’m awful to spend time with. Why would you want to be around me when I ruin things for you?” His voice was clipped, and he dressed faster, barely buttoning his shirt before pulling on his socks.
“Stop ruining things for me, then.”
“So, what, I’ll just work constantly?”
He said it as if there was no alternative, as if his options were work or compete. As if, without the pleasure of competition, he didn’t want me playing in his sandbox.
“Right, go be workaholic Alex. Let’s just pretend this whole trip never happened. Forget the date.” Tears were filling up my eyes, threatening to spill down, and I clenched my jaw. If I could just get him out the door. I didn’t want him to see me cry.
Alex stood up, his jaw clenched and his fingers shaking in anger. “If that’s what you want, fine. Goodnight, Nikki.”
And he was gone. The door slammed shut, and I burst into tears.
16
The yoga retreatwas going wonderfully, from a photography perspective. I was in Sri Lanka for four days, but the work had really only taken up two. I had wandered around the retreat, taking photos of everything I could find: sun salutations on a hill overlooking rows of winding tea bushes, serene pools of water with lush jungle providing shade while people bent into downward dog, and small basins of water with flower petals floating on the surface laid out in delicate patterns. My SD card filled with photos of serenity and calm every day, and I dumped it out every night.
During the day I could focus on work, but at night I lay in bed and thought of Alex. It was so different here. Instead of a king-sized bed, I slept on a double, and wondered how it would be to share this smaller space with Alex. I’d imagine how it would feel to wake up tangled in him.
Instead of rowdy, family-style dinners, it was quiet meals often eaten on my own, fresh fruits, smoothies, and vegan dishes. No wild game steaks like at the lodge.
Alex was so competitive. It would never work between us. He needed someone to compete with him, tooth and nail. Someone with more drive and ambition than me.
It was a vacation fling. A temporary insanity. Why would I be falling in love with the guy who antagonized me at every turn?
But I couldn’t let it go. What if I’d just told him outright to stop competing with me? What if I’d told him how much it meant to me to do my own thing?
