“What about the picture?” Amy called after me. I held back a sigh. I had already bailed on the picture once, and Amy was super nice to let it go. She didn’t deserve any blowback for my recent wave of flakiness. I picked up my backpack that carried my camera and my laptop. My phone was fully charged, so I quickly scrolled through my contacts and found Mike’s number.
Meet you at library tonight?
Sure, came the quick response.
The campus movie theater, the Varsity, sat on the very edge of the south end of campus, down by the diner. We’d just walk. I didn’t want this to appear any more date-like than it already did.
I pulled the backpack on and picked up my tripod. Opening my bedroom door, I said to both, “Let’s go.”
As we descended, I could hear footsteps on the stairs below. Noah’s face appeared around the next turn.
“Great. I didn’t want to be late for my tutorial,” Noah smiled at us. I heard Amy give a breathy sigh behind me.
“I’m the assistant,” Lana told Noah.
I muttered, “Fine,” motioning him to turn and go down the stairs.
At the porch, Noah stopped me and tugged at my backpack with one hand, grabbing the tripod with the other. For a moment I resisted until I realized how ridiculous we looked, as if we were two dogs fighting over a bone. I let both the backpack and the tripod go.
“Let me guess—something to do with your momma.” I rolled my eyes.
Noah shrugged on the backpack. “I had it easier than you, you know.”
“I don’t think that just because you lost your mom when you were born, and I lost my dad when I was twelve that you had it easier than me,” I replied softly. I didn’t want Lana or Amy to hear me, but I also didn’t want Noah to believe I thought his loss was less than mine. As if sensing I needed a moment, Lana hurried a reluctant Amy along.
“It’s true. I don’t think you can miss what you don’t know,” Noah replied.
“Sure you can.” I think Noah missed his mother more than he ever would admit.
“I don’t have memories of her, but you have twelve years of them with your dad.
“I also didn’t have someone blaming me for my dad’s death like your dad has.”
“Are we going to try to out-horrible the other?” Noah ran a hand through his hair.
“Out-horrible?”
“Like my life is more horrible than yours?” Noah explained.
I shook my head. “Is that what I’m doing? Because I didn’t mean to.”
“I know it wasn’t,” he let out a deep breath. “This is too heavy a discussion for a sunny day.”
I looked up and squinted. Full midday sun.
“What’s wrong?” Noah asked. Maybe I did have a black-ants-on-a-white-blanket face.
“I’m just hoping for a little cloud cover.”
“Why is that? I thought pictures needed a lot of light.”
“Full sun is great for taking photos of the sky, but it casts hard shadows and makes even really beautiful people look kind of awful. You have to have a lot of experience to take good full sun pictures, and I’m not there yet.”
Noah opened his mouth, but I jumped in to add, “And don’t say that’s why I should major in art, because the best way to become a better photographer is just to practice.”
“Fair enough. Tell me about how you create these pictures that look like Bo’s old mechanical football game with the tiny plastic guys.”
“I’ll do better than that,” I said. “I’ll show you.”
After climbing the three flights of stairs to a messy room at the top of the Delt house, I was grateful Noah was carrying my bag and tripod. Lana and I were both a bit winded, as was Jack, who escorted us up. Two younger Delts stood in the room frantically trying clean up, but it was too late. While a path from the door to the windows had been cleared, it still smelled like old socks and pizza boxes. Red plastic cups lay haphazardly on their sides, and the two desks pushed away from the window were piled high with video game boxes, textbooks, and a variety of T-shirts.
“Sorry,” Jack said as we entered. He glared at the two fleeing Delts. It looked like someone was likely to get a house punishment later.
I took my tripod from Noah, and set it in front of the window. “Can we take the screen out?” I asked Jack.
“Sure.” He walked over and peered around the sill. I could tell he didn’t know how to remove it. Noah gently nudged him aside and pulled two clips from the bottom, tugged the screen out and set it aside.
I pulled out my camera and clipped the base onto the tripod. Noah stepped closer until his arm brushed mine.
For a moment, I just paused. It seemed too unreal that Noah was standing next to me while I was taking a photograph. I wanted to yell at him, and, at the same time, I wanted to burrow under his arm and wrap myself in his scent. I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to clear my head, but instead my nose filled with the clean, warm male aroma that made me think of parks in mid-spring when all the greenery was sprouting and there was freshly turned dirt in all the flower beds.
“So Lana, you do this stuff too?” Jack’s overly loud voice reminded me why we were all here. Or at least why I was here. And it wasn’t to sniff Noah’s T-shirt and imagine we were running through a field of daisies.
“‘This stuff’ as in photography?” Lana replied, waving in my direction as I positioned my camera. I peered through the lens and saw Amy signaling me from across the street. I debated whether I should get a stronger zoom lens out.
“Um, yeah.” Jack sounded confused by the impatient tone in Lana’s voice.
“I told you last night I was a psych major.”
“Oh, ah, that’s right.” Clearly Jack had little memory of the night. Too many tequila shots. “So a psych major. That’s like head stuff.”
Noah and I looked at each other, and I could read his expression just as well as he could read mine. We shared a private grin. Jack’s presidency here at the Delts wasn’t due to his big brain. Either that or Jack’s ability to think was being short-circuited by Lana’s presence. This was a definite possibility. If anyone I knew belonged on a magazine cover, it was Lana.
She was one of my favorite subjects, although she rarely allowed me to take her picture. Her eating disorder left her with a distorted self-image, and, though the photographs I took of her showed how gorgeous she was, she never quite believed I didn’t use some secret photography trick. I’d given up trying to explain that the distortion happens in her head and not with my lens. But I guess we all had our blind spots. Mine was standing right next to me, so I couldn’t judge Lana too harshly.
“Tell me how this works,” Noah ordered. I refrained from rolling my eyes and saluting. If I did, it might give him the idea he could give me instructions all the time.
“Most of the time, when you take a picture, you are trying to take a straight-on photograph. With tilt shift, you’re tricking the eye into thinking you’re seeing something closer than it really is by focusing on a point or object from a distance and then blurring the edges. I have the camera on the rails so it can move up and down,” I gestured toward the two thin metal rods on either side of the camera. “The tilt is the pivot here on the lens.” I moved the lens and tilted it up and down to show how it hinged at angles away from the body of the camera. “Some real pros can do it without all this equipment, and some just use computer hacks.”
“So is it like the opposite of a rearview mirror?”
“Kind of, but imagine the rear-view mirror being able to shift up and down and then tilt.”
“Do you have to be high up to make it look like a model toy town?”
“Not always. Some people are able to take ground level shots, but I’m better at taking them up high and at a distance.”
“Is it harder with people?” Noah seemed really interested, and I could talk about my hobby all day long.
“No, people make it great. They give it scale, actually. This type of thing is really
well-suited for having the girls against the backdrop of the house.”
I made a few more adjustments and then turned to Lana. “I think I’m ready.”
She texted someone. A few moments later, the Alpha Phis began streaming out of their house. They were all wearing red shorts and white and red T-shirts with their Greek insignia on the back. As they formed a line, I took a few pictures. Action shots were the best. Like the one I took of Noah kneeling in the library when I thought he was some random lacrosse player.
“Have them move around some more, like in a circle or something,” I called to Lana. She must have relayed the message, because the girls on the lawn moved into a round formation and started walking in unison. I motioned for Noah to look through the viewfinder. I noticed that he was careful not to touch anything, like Lana always was. Most people would’ve put their hand up to the lens or bumped the tripod. I held the remote in my hands and took several photos while Noah was looking.
He stepped back. “That’s pretty cool. I want to see the bigger versions, though. It’s hard to get the full effect with the tiny viewfinder.”
“I always tell Grace that I can’t see what she sees,” Lana interjected.
Noah nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I mean I kind of see it, but it’s not the same as the prints Grace sent me.”
“What ones did she send you? My favorite is the football one with Josh,” Lana said. I let the two of them chatter about their favorites while I raised and lowered the camera and adjusted the tilt, taking several photographs.
The Alpha Phis had gotten tired of doing circles and were breaking into small groups. A few sat down on the stairs of the house and some others stretched out on the lawn. The different body positions gave the image so much more composition. This was the photo. I would still review them all, but this one spoke the most to me, and I just knew that when I scrolled through the images this would be my favorite.
The sisters might choose something else more polished, but the relaxed and conversational nature of the scattered crowd would be the best image of the set.
“I’m ready,” I said, straightening up. I rubbed my neck a little to ease the slight ache that had gathered from bending over the camera. I felt a warm hand push mine away. Large, strong fingers cupped the base of my skull and flexed against my neck, gently but firmly massaging me. I closed my eyes for a moment and allowed the pleasure to wash over me.
The room was utterly silent, but I could feel Noah’s body, the heat and mass of it, next to me. I wanted to place my hands on him, stroke that marble-hard chest that Lana and Amy had patted down last night. But I knew that would be an invitation I wasn’t prepared to extend.
I curled my hands into fists, and the sting of my nails in my palms brought me back. I opened my eyes to find Noah staring at me, his hand still on my neck. His brown eyes had darkened and the skin over his cheekbones was pulled tight. He looked hungry and more than a little predatory. I shivered, a matching hunger building inside of me. It would be so easy to drop my defenses and tumble into his arms, but what would happen when he let go? I didn’t think I’d recover from the fall.
His fingers tightened for a minute and then dropped away. I took a deep breath and turned to dismantle my equipment. “Thanks for your help. I’m going to go over to the house for a little bit and look through the photos. See which ones they want.”
Noah understood that this was a dismissal. “I’ll walk you over.”
He carried everything for me, down the four flights of stairs, across the street, and into the front reception room of the house. The girls fluttered around him like butterflies trying to alight on the same flower. He didn’t talk or flirt or even acknowledge them. He set down my things and then hooked his hand around my neck again, turning me so I was looking directly at him.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he said.
I only nodded my response.
It took longer to fend off questions about Noah than it did to pick out a picture. The consensus of the rush committee was to use the image that had them circled around the Alpha Phi sign on the front lawn. It was one of my least favorites, but with a little processing, I could make it acceptable even for me. I ended up eating dinner at the sorority house, so I had little time to get ready for my date with Mike. And Noah. And whomever Noah was bringing.
***
“What’s showing?” I asked Mike when I met up with him at the library.
“Some movie with subtitles. I never thought Noah Jackson would be into this sort of thing. Who do you think he’s dating?” Flip went his hair.
“Dunno,” I mumbled. This thought had tormented me all afternoon, and by dinnertime I had stoked my anxiety into anger. Mike seemed nervous, and maybe if we were on a real date, I would be nervous too. Instead, I was kind of angry, and anger burned away nervousness and made me feel stupidly brave. Anger: the sober student’s high.
I broached the Sarah subject with Mike, figuring this might be the only time I’d have alone with him before the movie started. “We should’ve invited Sarah.”
“Why?” Mike asked, this time pushing his hair back with his hand.
“Because she’s a cool girl, and I think she’d have liked this movie.”
“Really? I got the impression she didn’t like movies,” Mike said.
“How so?”
He shrugged, shoving both hands in his pockets. “I asked her to a few, and she always had excuses not to go. Maybe she just didn’t want to go with me.”
Good lord. Was it possible that Sarah’s unrequited feelings were actually returned, but through a series of miscommunications, Sarah and Mike each thought the other didn’t return their feelings? It was like a classic romance novel, where I could play the adorable Cupid matchmaker, doing something productive for once. In the book, however, I’d have tangled red curls. I always loved the heroines with red hair—and so did their male counterparts. Before I could ask any questions, though, we arrived at the theater.
Noah was already standing there, and Bo was standing right next to him. There were three theater students, all beautiful, talking to both of them. One of them had tangled red hair. The universe hated me. Was this like a multiple couple thing, a sextuplet? An orgy of moviegoers? Noah broke away from the group when he saw us arrive.
“Which one’s your date?” I asked, bracing myself. Please don’t let it be the cute redhead, I prayed.
“Bo’s my date,” Noah smiled, turned and gestured for Bo to extricate himself from the others.
“You two are dating?” Mike asked, mouth agape. Apparently, to Mike, Noah Jackson liking movies with subtitles was less astonishing than Noah liking men. I could only sigh in relief that I wasn’t in competition with some gorgeous romance book heroine with red hair.
“Nope, just needed some bro time,” Noah said, and he turned and bumped fists with Bo.
“Bro time at a foreign, subtitled film?” I asked, skepticism heavy in my tone.
“Sure. Aren’t we here to be better educated?” This was from Bo. He handed out tickets to Mike and me.
I stared at Bo and Noah’s smiling faces when the reality of the situation struck me. Noah hadn’t brought a date. He’d brought his best friend and battle buddy. Most importantly, he had brought a guy. I felt guilty at all the angry thoughts I had directed at him earlier while having dinner with the Alpha Phis. I felt even worse having used Mike as a defense against my feelings toward Noah. Neither one of them deserved that.
“Thanks,” Mike snatched his up. He didn’t offer to reimburse them.
“What do we owe you?” I asked. Bo looked offended, and Noah shook his head in mock dismay.
“Bo’s momma is still alive, but hearing that her son didn’t buy a girl’s movie ticket might send her to an early death,” Noah said, drawing out his vowels to exaggerate his Texas accent.
I rolled my eyes, but Mike just shrugged. When we got inside, Bo said, “Why don’t you and Noah grab some seats, and Mike and I’ll field the refreshments.”
> “Why don’t you and Noah go get the seats, and Mike and I will get the popcorn and stuff.” I wanted to speak to Mike about Sarah before the movie started, and being separated wouldn’t provide that opportunity.
“Since you paid for the movie,” Mike added. I realized that Mike’s silence on the tickets wasn’t him being a cheap jerk, just picking his battles. Maybe I had misconceptions of Mike too. This made me want to work even harder to get him together with Sarah and make up for my jerkiness.
I left Noah, Bo, and Mike debating who was going to buy popcorn, soda, and water (the latter being Noah’s drink of choice), and found an open section a quarter of the way down the auditorium-style seats. The Varsity Theatre was old and the royal blue velvet seats hadn’t been updated for at least a couple decades. The cloth was worn through on the arms, and some of the springs’ resilience had been weakened, so when you sat in them, the seats kind of collapsed.
A movie here was about the cost of a soda. I don’t even know why I argued about paying my way. If I really meant for Noah to be deterred, I should act like I didn’t care. Arguing over everything and ignoring him were obvious signs that I was trying too hard. I resolved to try to be friendlier and less bitchy. I wanted to project an“ I don’t care” attitude, not an“ I’m so hurt that I can barely stand to look at you, yet I don’t want to be away from you either” message.
Looking around, I was surprised by the number of people in the theater for a Saturday night, early on in the year. I figured everyone would be at some house party, or over on Greek Street, or in one of the campus bars.
I leaned over to a girl next to me. “What’s the movie?”
She looked at me like I was crazy. “Lust, Caution.”
“That doesn’t sound very French.”
“It’s not. It’s Chinese. Directed by Ang Lee,” She bit out each word as if I was five years old.
“I thought it was a French film with subtitles,” I couldn’t let go of the fact that it wasn’t a French film.
“You got half that right. It’s got subtitles.” With that she turned away and resumed her conversation with her friend. I think it had something to do with half-wits and how they shouldn’t even come to subtitled movies if they weren’t serious film students.
Undeclared (The Woodlands) Page 8
