Want and fear have been battling it out, but with Theo’s words, the want wins.
I check the ISO and aperture settings, adjust my shutter speed. Then, for the first time in six months, I put my eye to the viewfinder. My finger smooths over the shutter release, as light as the breeze that winds through my hair.
My mind goes blank, even as nerves dance under my skin. There are people around, but it’s a hum of energy, a soft buzz until it’s nothing. Until there’s no sound but my own heartbeat.
The last time I did this, I was with Gram. Somehow, I’m doing it now, and she’s here again. Or still.
I expel my emotion in the form of a watery exhale. Out of the corner of my eye, Theo rocks forward on his heels, but Paul cuffs his elbow.
It scares me. But I’ll do it anyway.
I catch a solar flare in my lens and microscopically shift my weight on my right leg, leaning so it slices more fully into the shot. I press the shutter release. The gentle click of the lens sounds like a firework.
Like that, the anticipatory anxiety is gone. I take a few more shots. My arms crawl with goosebumps. I pull back to watch the hairs rise, the skin under turning textured, and wish I could capture that, too. Then I turn to Paul, who’s lowering his own camera, beaming, and feel my smile spread across my mouth like the sun over the valley.
I shift my gaze to Theo. He comes up behind me, curving over my shoulder like he did in his kitchen. It’s equally distracting, but not nearly as annoying, and that makes my heart beat with a thrill and fear.
“Let’s see if these are TikTok approvable, Shep.”
I press the playback menu and scroll through the pictures I just took, the ones I’ll eventually share with thousands of people. Ones they’ll hopefully love.
I wait for the voice in my head telling me I’ll never amount to anything, but it doesn’t come.
Instead, I hear my own voice, assuring me that, though these photos aren’t the best I’ve ever taken, at least I took them. Maybe it doesn’t have to be my best to still be enough.
* * *
We spend the morning exploring the valley and drop in to the Ansel Adams Gallery. Paul waxes poetic about his technical skill and use of previsualization, as well as his enduring conservationist beliefs. Theo catches my eye at one point, his mouth twitching.
Fanboy, he mouths, and I bite against a smile.
We eat lunch on the Ahwahnee Hotel’s patio and the temperature climbs with the sun. Before my sandwich arrives, I’m peeling off my thin fleece pullover. I’m wearing a cropped tank underneath, nothing special, but Theo’s eyes linger through the rest of lunch, sending a shot of electricity down my spine.
Not happening.
I drain my iced tea, but it does nothing to quench this specific thirst.
On our shuttle ride to our Mirror Lake hike, Paul insists on sitting across the aisle from us. I spend the entire time staring down at Theo’s thigh nearly pressed against mine.
Thighs should not be so beautiful, especially smashed against a plastic seat.
Besides the continued struggle with my attraction to Theo, though, the day has been perfect. I’m trying to remember the last time I felt this content, but I can’t. There’s no small amount of shock in the realization that some of that contentment is directly tied to Theo’s company, though I don’t dwell on the reason.
Paul’s hiking sticks tap against the hard-packed dirt as we get onto the trail. “I can’t believe I haven’t asked this yet, Noelle, but have you ever been to Yosemite?”
I adjust my backpack, nodding. “A few times with my family. It’s been years, though. I forgot how beautiful it is.”
“It’s my favorite place in the world,” Theo says from beside me.
I turn to him, surprised at this voluntary share. “Yeah?”
He nods. The sun filters down through the thick canopy of trees, dappling his face and hair with afternoon light, caressing his shoulders. “I don’t know how many times I forced my granddad to camp here—”
“At least twenty.”
Theo gives Paul the smile he reserves for him alone—pure happiness, unabashed affection. “There’s something about it. It’s quiet, but not a heavy kind of quiet. Just peaceful. Feels like you can breathe here.”
I stare at him, trying to work out exactly what he means. A heavy kind of quiet. I’ve felt it in grief, but I’ve also seen it in the low tones in which his dad used to speak to him, a firm hand gripping his shoulder, in the grim silence after Theo got a lit paper returned to him with a 93 written at the top. I have to make assumptions. He’ll never tell me, but it still feels like he’s revealed something.
“What’s your second favorite place?” I ask.
“New Zealand as a whole. Milford Sound especially. I cried a little.”
My mouth drops open. “No, you didn’t.”
He gives me a sly look. “I love that I could not tell you and you’ll wonder forever.”
“Your grandson is a total menace, Paul.”
His laugh is jovial. “Sweetheart, I know.”
I continue my line of questioning, curious now. “How many countries have you been to?”
“I’ve stalled out at forty-two. Haven’t had much of a chance to travel the past couple years,” Theo says, his mouth twisting with obvious displeasure.
I look over my shoulder at Paul. “And you?”
“Ninety-seven.” He nods his chin at Theo. “He’s trying to catch up with me.”
“Forty-two is pretty impressive.”
“Yeah,” Theo agrees, but it’s not smug. He seems in awe of it, and confirms that when he continues, “I realized early on what a privilege it was to be able to travel. Granddad drilled into my head that seeing the world is expensive, and it requires time people may not have. I can’t do anything about the time part of it, but Where To Next was born from the idea that everyone should be able to afford a full-package experience.”
“I love the off-season packages you offer,” I admit. “Gram and I went to Scotland a couple years ago and practically paid pennies.”
His attention turns keen. “Do you use it often?”
I lift a shoulder. “When I have the time and money. Before Gram died, I didn’t have much of either. There’s no way I would’ve gone on the trip without the off-season deal. Gram would’ve wanted to pay for my way, and it would’ve turned into this big argument of me not wanting to be a burden—”
Gah. Major overshare. I bite my lip to prevent further confessions, but Theo seems to have a one-track mind.
“Do you think it’s a necessary feature?” he presses.
“Yeah, everyone I know has used it at least once. It’s the biggest draw of your app, in my opinion.” I eye him. “Why are you asking? Are you using me as some sort of one-woman focus group?”
He runs a hand over his jaw, distracted now. “Yeah, I guess.”
We spend the next few minutes walking in silence before coming up to a portion of the trail where a creek is revealed, water rushing over huge craggy rocks. Behind it, a massive slab of mountain thrusts into the sky. My fingers start tingling, and my heart beats faster at the feeling in response. It’s been so long since I’ve wanted to shoot anything so badly my fingers tingled.