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“I just thought this was my chance to ask.”

For a moment, Jase looks at me, then chuckles a little. I don’t consider myself a funny person—that better describes Nora—so seeing his reaction is flattering. “My dad was a guitarist in his band. He showed me all these old videos of him with his long, nineties grunge hair, playing Pearl Jam covers. He also showed me a bunch of other bands like AC/DC and The Ramones. I thought it was cool that they could bring a song to life, and I wanted to do the same thing. So I asked my dad to teach me.”

“Aw, that’s cute, very sweet father-son bonding.”

I imagine a mini-Jase strumming the chords to a guitar twice his size. Too adorable for words. I find it even more adorable that he asked his dad to teach him.

“How about you?” Jase asks.

I tell him how my photography journey began when I took a photo of Nora’s tiny clay pot. After that day, I knew I wanted to take photography as an elective. It was originally a class I took just to fulfill a graduation requirement, boost my GPA, and help me stand out on my college applications. But the more photos I took, the more I started to love photography.

“You must have awesome photography classes if they got you to like it so much.”

“They are, but I think I just really enjoy taking photos.”

“Same with me and playing the guitar.”

He shows me more tricks like stepping forward during moments where I want to shine. In Jase’s case, he steps forward whenever he plays a guitar solo. Now, I step forward when I tell more qualities—this time, I go with adjectives—that I like about myself.

Me: “I like that I’m nice, smart, and respectful.”

Jase: “I like that I’m chill, confident, and brave.”

Another tip he shares is to use hand gestures for the words that have the most meaning. This, apparently, is my equivalent to his grooving along with the music. I apply this tip when I’m practicing my presentation, which runs smoother than I thought it would. There are times where I stumble or mumble, but at least I’m making progress. We practice my presentation again, this time applying all his tips, and I manage to run through the whole thing. Then I realize something. I’ve unconsciously stood in a power stance ever since I told Jase what I like about myself.

“That was great!” Jase says, clapping.

“Thanks, that was really helpful,” I say.

“No problem. Thank you too, for helping me study. I actually learned something.”

“It was my pleasure!”

He steps forward and smiles. “And you said you wouldn’t be good at it.”

“It was my first time.”

“You did pretty damn well for your first time.” Jase checks the time on his phone. “Well, I should probably head back inside and get ready for today’s show. You coming?”

“Wish I could, but I have to head home,” I say. “My mom’s going to check on my summer AP homework.”

Jase widens his eyes enough that I can see the gold rimmed around his pupils. “You smart kids have homework over the summer? And your mom checks on it?”

“Yeah, it’s the teachers’ way of preparing us for college and all the other work they give during the school year. My parents want to make sure I’m on the right track and that I understand everything.”

“That’s intense. If my mom checked on my homework, I’d be screwed because I always do mine right before class starts.”

“Procrastinator.”

“See, I’m an AP student—an Advanced Procrastinator.”

At this, I laugh out loud. My face flushes when girls my age whip around and shoot me a bemused look. To Jase, I say, “Sounds fitting.”

He chuckles at this and shrugs. “Maybe some pictures will help me procrastinate less.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You won’t let this Instagram thing go, will you?”

“I want to see them.”