Sydney shifted slightly, as if she’d realized she’d been caught, pretending she was capturing the tree line beyond me. Though it might have all been in my head, considering she might be taking photos of me was exhilarating.
“Can I try?” I asked.
“Try what?”
I pointed at the camera in her hands. “Taking a photo.”
She stood up, assessing me once again under that microscopic gaze. “This is a very expensive camera, and I don’t normally let anyone touch it.”
“I understand that,” I said. And I did. It seemed to be important to her. “I was just curious, is all.”
She shifted on her feet in thought, looking down at the digital screen. Then she removed the strap from around her neck and held it out to me. “If you break it, I will bury you in this field.”
I took it from her, handling it with care as I slipped the strap around my neck. The camera fell heavily against my chest, a weight I wasn’t used to.
“How does it work?” I asked.
“Have you never used a camera?”
“I have,” I said. “But this one is way fancier than any I’ve touched.”
“Come here,” she said, gesturing for me to sink down to her height so she could see it. Being at her level made me much closer to her than I normally was. Her sweet, floral scent wafted towards me, making me want to lick up the column of her neck, where I could see her pulse race against her luscious skin. “The photo button is in the same spot as every camera. You do this to zoom, this to adjust aperture, which is how much light it lets in, and this to adjust shutter speed. That tells the camera how fast to take the photo, so if you want to capture something moving, you can take it a bit faster to make it still.”
“Got it.” I didn’t really, but I was sure I could take something nice. “And how do I see the photo I took?”
“Here,” she told me, gesturing to the button.
I aimed the camera up toward the field, looked through the small window like I’d seen Sydney do, and snapped the photo. I then checked it. It was a bit crooked, and I thought I’d moved slightly when I took it, making everything a bit blurry, but it was still pretty.
I took a few more, finding myself facing the tree line off in the distance, my truck in the driveway, and finally, landing on Sydney, standing amongst the flowers. Looking like the prettiest one of all.
She was looking right at me, and before I could think about it, I snapped the photo.
“Did you take one of me?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “And I want to take another. Pose for me.”
“I don’t know how to pose,” she said.
I quirked a brow. “You take all these photos, and you don’t know how to pose?”
She furrowed her brow. “I’m usually behind the camera, not in front of it.”
I wanted to tell her itshouldbe the other way around. That I wanted to photograph her and keep her in my memory forever, but under the circumstances, that wouldn’t be appropriate.
“Why don’t you pretend to be looking over there? I’ve seen that in magazines.”
She sighed. “Fine.”
She turned so she was facing sideways and looked toward the sky in the distance. I was right; she should be in front of the camera. I snapped a few, listening to the shutter go off every time.
“I think you’d make a great model,” I said, and I wasn’t kidding.
“Yeah, right.” She showed me that bright smile that I couldn’t get enough of once again, and I took as many photos as I could manage before it slipped. I wondered if there was a way I could get copies of it without seeming weird, but probably not. Maybe I’d be okay with being weird if I got to see that smile every day.
“Want to see?” I asked.
“I’m sure I don’t look that great,” she said, but came over anyway.
