He gives my hand a squeeze once he’s standing. “You, my dear, are a storyteller. I’ve seen it in your photographs, and I see it here. You’ll do more, right?”
The lump in my throat is so vicious that I can only nod at first. Eventually I get out, “Yes, I’ll keep going.”
My gaze slides to Theo. I’ve repeated his phrasing. He acknowledges it with a wink, and it tugs at me, a thread that’s just been created between us. If I’m not careful, it’ll turn into a web I can’t get out of.
I turn back to Paul. “I told Theo this, but I won’t include current pictures or videos of either of you unless you want that.”
“Oh.” Paul’s eyes widen, his mouth twitching into a smile. “Well, I’m already a little bit famous, aren’t I?”
“You’re very famous by TikTok standards,” I laugh.
“Tell the story how you want to tell it. If that includes the current version of me, I’d be honored.”
“I’m okay with it, too,” Theo says.
I arch an eyebrow at him. “It won’t affect your reputation as the very serious cofounder and CFO of Where To Next?”
“You showing me, the cofounder of a traveling app, traveling?” he responds. “No, I think it’ll be okay.”
“Maybe you’ll accumulate a fan club.”
Deep in my bones I know people will go wild for him. I swear he was specially made for fantasizing over. Already I’m thinking of the ways my camera will love the planes and angles of his face, that body, and the way hungry, anonymous eyes will devour whatever I put up. It stirs something in my stomach. Not jealousy, but something sticky like that.
Theo shrugs, cheeks flushing. “Not my problem. If you’re going to tell the story, might as well tell all of it. I’m not going to stand in your way.”
Paul grins at the two of us, then takes me by the elbow as we walk out to the van, sharing his favorite comments.
Theo’s already loading up the trunk by the time we get there, and instructs us to drop our bags so he can finish. Paul settles into the backseat as usual, and I take advantage of Theo’s absence to add my phone to the Bluetooth, disconnecting his.
When he slides into the driver’s seat and turns the ignition, Maggie Rogers’s voice snakes out through the speakers. He looks at the multimedia screen, then over at me, unimpressed.
“I told you, more Thom Yorke and I’m going to throw myself out of the car. Allow me to introduce you to modern music.”
He sighs. I settle into my seat, smug and singing along, as Theo puts us in reverse.
“All right.” Paul claps his hands. “Where to next?”
* * *
We make it to Death Valley before sunset, hiking the quarter mile to Badwater Basin, a popular tourist spot. The landscape is monochromatic, an ombre of browns that fuse together to make something beautiful. In the distance, the mountain range looks painted on the horizon. Though it’s evening, the air is still heavy with heat.
I walk next to Theo while Paul meanders ahead.
“So, which came first, Paul saying Where to next? or you naming your company?”
I know the answer already, but I want him to say it out loud.
Theo gives me a sideways glance, letting out a quiet laugh. “Of course you’d pick up on that.”
“Yes, I’m a genius. Did you name it after him?”
There’s a cornered look in his eyes, but he doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”
I let his silence hang for approximately two seconds. “I’m going to need more than that.”
Theo’s mouth curls into a barely-there smile before he squints out at the horizon. “It’s what he’d say to me every summer when we were getting ready to take off somewhere. He always knew where we were going—he had to clear it with my parents first—but he liked to pretend we were going on this unknown adventure together.”
“Why that moment, specifically?”
“It meant I got to spend time with someone who let me be me, without expectations. We got to go to places where no one knew us—all over the country when I was young, and internationally once I was older.” Our arms brush, bringing goosebumps to my skin despite the heat. But it’s not just Theo’s touch; it’s the emotion coating his voice. I recognize it in myself, the bittersweetness of recalling perfect moments you can’t get back. “It was freeing to get away from my life. So, when Anton and Matias and I were thinking about names, it was the first thing that popped up. It felt right. I want everyone to feel that when they travel.”
I fiddle with my lens cap. “That’s kind of a pay-it-forward moment for you, over and over again.”
Theo’s features are painted golden in the light falling down on us. The tips of his lashes are honey hued, the blue of his eyes so clear, nearly bright. After my disastrous assistant stint, I prefer to shoot landscapes instead of people, but the urge to get this shot of Theo is intense.
He swallows. “I’ve never thought of it that way. But yeah. I guess that’s right.”
“You’ve done something pretty amazing with it,” I say quietly.
“Yeah.” His voice breaks, and he lets out a breath, running his hand through his hair before giving me a wry look. “You still ask a lot of questions.”
I bite back a smile. Sometimes in class, he’d tally up all the questions I asked and slip the paper into my hand on his way out the door. I hated that touch as much as I wanted it. “Some things never change.”
“True.”
The air between us is thick, his sadness sitting on top of it. I bump his arm with my shoulder. “You can tell me to mind my business, you know.”
“I know.”
The basin stretches out in front of us, bleached-white salt flats shaped like polygons. The sun is starting to sink in earnest, and though I’m eager to take some photos, I’m disappointed our conversation is winding down. Theo giving a piece of himself to me feels like a gift, and I want to grab it with both hands. Ask for more.
He turns to me. His gaze traces the path of my ponytail pulled over my shoulder, moving up to that spot he touched with his mouth the other night. But it’s not sexual; it’s familiar. It makes me ache.
“No one’s ever asked me that question before. I didn’t realize how much I wanted to answer it.”
I hear the thank you he doesn’t say. I nod, too taken aback to come up with a casual response. He flashes me a quick smile, then wanders away, hands in his pockets.
I watch him for too long. I’m going to miss the sunset. My pictures. But I can’t seem to step outside of our moment.
A gentle hand on my arm sends me crashing back down to earth.
“I didn’t mean to startle you, sweetheart,” Paul says when I whip around. His camera is cradled in his hands.
“It’s okay, I was just . . . thinking.” About your grandson and how I seem to be sliding headfirst into something a little terrifying—
Paul saves me from myself. “You shoot mostly landscape, right?”
“It’s what I’m most comfortable with, yeah.”
“Have you done much portrait work?”
“I—” I lift a shoulder. “I assisted a photographer for almost a year right out of college. I got burned, so I stepped away from it.”