This is What Goodbye Looks Like (22 page)

He suddenly laughs, and the sound shocks me so much, I flinch back. But it instantly makes me understand why Brie’s so sad she doesn’t get to hear him do this anymore. His laugh is like improvised music, deep and beautiful and just a little wild, all its different notes coming together and begging me to join in on his amusement.

“I forgot how dangerous cameras can be to my reputation,” he says, shaking his head.

He’s the dangerous one, not the camera. Although, it’s not like I could ever explain that to him. Seth would never understand the way he makes me want to throw caution and morals and common sense out the window. Hell, even
I
don’t get it.

My urge to laugh shrivels in my throat, leaving it dry and scratchy. “Okay,” I say more quietly. “Walk back for real this time. No strutting.”

Seth sticks his tongue out at me, a move that’s so juvenile and so cute, it shocks me out of my despair for a second. Before I realize what I’m doing, I raise my camera and snap a picture of him. He freezes at the sound of the shutter, his tongue still half-extended. Then his face gets all flushed again.

“You took a picture that time, didn’t you?”

“Yup,” I say with a smirk. “And everyone’s going to see it if you don’t start behaving.”

“You’re a brat,” he says with another small laugh. “But a cute one.”

It’s my turn to blush. “Okay, but seriously, walk back to me. Slowly, so your tracks in the snow are clear.”

Seth sighs dramatically, but does as he’s told and makes his way toward me. His strides are sure and powerful, and it’s strangely mesmerizing knowing he can look so confident when he can’t even see what’s right in front of him. Koda follows at his side, four of her steps matching each of his two.

It’s not until he’s standing right in front of me that I realize I’m looking at him through my viewfinder. I slowly lower my camera and blink a few times, surprised to see a little “23” flashing in the corner of the LCD screen. Twenty-three pictures loaded on my new memory card. Twenty-three pictures I just took while hardly realizing it, the action so natural it’s like breathing.

Seth raises an eyebrow. “Well?”

My heart pounds, the sound filling my ears, and my words are a little shaky as I say, “I got some good shots, I think.”

“So we’re done?”

“No,” I say, the word rushing out of me. “No, definitely not.”

I look around the courtyard, suddenly noticing little shadows and stones and snow patches I hadn’t before, suddenly desperate to photograph them all, to capture every detail around me. My finger itches on the trigger of the camera, wanting to snap a million pictures at once.

Nine months without taking a single photo. That’s a lot to make up for.

I nod toward the gate. “I’m going to go out there, but you stay here in the courtyard. I want to get you from a bunch of different angles.”

He tilts his head and considers me, not realizing that he’s staring at the ivy next to my shoulder and not actually my face. From this angle, he doesn’t look quite so intense, and I’m able to see the fragile glimmer of affection in his expression, spidery lines of it weaving through his sadness.

“You know, I really didn’t think I’d ever find anyone to pull off this project,” he says. “ But if anyone can get close to replicating Parker’s work, I’m pretty sure it’s you.”

I raise my camera and take one more picture of him, this one a reminder for myself. A way to remember that even the most broken things can be beautiful.

His frown deepens at the sound of the shutter. “What was that one for?”

“Um, I was just taking a picture of a bird over there,” I say, hating how easily the lie comes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

He shrugs, but the way he lets out a small breath makes me think he’s more relieved than annoyed by my sudden change of topic. “No problem. Were you going to take the rest of those pictures now?”

The rest of the shots are surprisingly easy—Brie and I mapped out the photos pretty thoroughly yesterday, and I just mentally run through our notes as I take pictures. Calmness washes back over me as soon as I start clicking away. The process is ingrained in me, just like it’s been for years—examine the area, find the right angle, adjust the settings, focus, click, shoot. Repeat.

My knee is on fire right from the beginning, and it only takes a few minutes for me to regret leaving my cane. But even with my wobbly leg, it’s easier than I expected to fall back into the rhythm of snapping photos at various angles. A few minutes later, Seth starts stamping his feet from the cold, and I realize I’d better wrap up the shoot before both of us end up with frostbite.

“I’m done,” I call as I limp back into the courtyard. The gates loom over me for a second, casting a shadow, but it feels more welcoming than menacing.

Seth’s phone starts ringing, shattering the peacefulness of the courtyard, and I recognize the ringtone he’s programmed in for his mom. Apparently, the events of our last meeting are enough to make him wary of answering, because he just takes it out and holds it in his palm. The ringtone cuts out, but a few moments later, a voicemail alert chirps. Seth curses and shoves his phone back in his pocket, only to have it start ringing again a few seconds later.

“That’s your mom?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I was supposed to go home this morning. Landon’s going into town, and my house is only like thirty minutes away. So, yeah, he’s giving me a ride.”

“I thought you weren’t going back to your house this weekend?”

He smiles bitterly. “My mom can be persuasive.”

“She’s grieving,” I remind him gently. “I... I don’t think she’s thinking straight.”

“I’m grieving, too,” he mutters. “And I don’t go around making everyone’s life miserable because of it.”

I bite my lip and absently flick at a snowflake that lands on my arm. “I’m sorry. I should stay out of your business.”

He lets out a long, pained sigh. “No, it’s just...I’m sorry, okay? I’m not good at talking about this sort of stuff.” He scuffs his foot against the snow, sending a cloud of powder flying. “I need to go. Landon’s going to be pissed if he has to wait around much longer for me.”

“Does anyone ever actually get pissed at you for being late?”

He smirks, but he at least has the courtesy to look a little sheepish. “No, not really.”

A gust of wind whistles through the gates. I cross my arms to ward off the cold, but Seth just leans into the wind and breathes deeply. He seems soothed by the chill, which I almost understand. It can be comforting to know something out there is colder than the gnawing feeling in your gut.

“We should get inside,” he says as the wind settles back to a whisper. “This storm is going to pick up soon. You got the pictures you need, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll have to look them all over later, but I’m pretty sure I got some good ones. It shouldn’t be too hard to pick one to use for the fifth step of the project.”

He nods sharply and then says to his dog, “Dorm, Koda. Go to the dorm.” Koda leaps to her feet and starts trotting toward the main buildings, just as the wind picks up again. Snow swirls down around us, thick and glimmering, and Seth calls over his shoulder, “You coming?”

“Yeah,” I say as I start after the pair. Seth makes Koda slow down, and as we near the dorms, I catch up to them.

“You asked me why I came here,” I say. I grimace with every step I take on my throbbing knee, but I focus on keeping my tone even and stoic. “When we first met. You wanted to know what made me choose this school.”

“I still do.” His entire body seems taut, every muscle tensed as we get closer to the dorms, and he gets closer to having to leave for home. But his tone stays gentle, almost concerned. “You never gave me much of an answer. And everyone who comes to Harting knows exactly why they want to be here.”

I clear my throat a little. “My home kind of sucks right now, too. So that’s why I’m here.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I guess.”

“Well, it doesn’t. You deserve a good home.”

I don’t try to hide my surprise. It never occurred to me that he might want me to be happy.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

Koda veers to the right, taking Seth down the small path that leads to the senior boys’ dorm. But Seth only takes a couple more steps before stopping.

“Do you want me to walk you back to your room?” he asks.

It takes all my self-control to stop myself from answering “yes.” I don’t want to have to say goodbye, and even more than that, I don’t want to watch him look so absolutely miserable as he heads away.

But he needs to go back home, and he needs to be with his family, or else things are just going to get worse for him.

“No,” I say. “I can get back just fine by myself.”

Seth nods. “Can you do me one more favor?” He bites at his lip for a second, then adds, “It’s not as big as the photo project, I promise.”

“Yeah, sure.” I’ll do as many favors as he wants, if it will just make him stop looking so damn miserable.

He makes a vague gesture to our surroundings. “Quit acting so shy with everyone around here. Harting might not be a real home, but if you don’t have an actual family to lean on, it’s pretty much the best thing you’ll get.”

I don’t bother trying to hide my surprise, and I open and close my mouth a few times, struggling for words. “So,” I finally manage. “Does that make you my brother or something?”

He smiles, his angular face making the expression sharp and gentle all at once. “No. No, definitely not.” He shakes his head and lets out a small chuckle.

“What’s so funny?”

“The idea of us being siblings.”

I can’t help but smile with him, even though I don’t really get the joke. “What? You wouldn’t want to be related to me?”

“Hell, no.” One corner of his mouth tilts up in a smirk. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve always thought incest was pretty disgusting.”

He winks and heads off toward his dorm. I’m left standing there with my mouth dropped open, my confused thoughts just as numerous as the swirling snowflakes.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“He likes you,” Brie announces. She peers at her nails as she paints them a sparkly silver color, the tip of her tongue stuck out in concentration.

I snatch up my copy of
Robinson Crusoe
from my desk and hold it up to the top shelf of our bookcase next to the closet. I’m re-organizing the shelves, mostly for Brie’s sake, since she’s been moaning about how I keep my books lined up in order of awesomeness. Too messy, she claims. I managed to convince her to not make me do alphabetical order, so now I’m organizing by the color of the spine. Trouble is,
Robinson Crusoe
has a dual-colored spine, white at the top and red at the bottom.

“It goes with the reds,” Brie says, noticing my hesitation. “And he likes you. And I’m going to keep saying he likes you until you do something about it.”

“Brie, we’re not having this conversation again,” I say, shoving the book on the bottom shelf with
Inferno
and my other red novels. If Brie says that’s where it belongs, I’ll trust her. Ends up, she’s even more of a book nerd than I am.

Over the past couple weeks, I’ve discovered we both have a soft spot for British authors and classics, but other than that, our tastes are pretty different. Brie likes long novels with happy endings, and she doesn’t understand poetry. I like books that are short, as long as they’re not super sweet, and I’ve been reading more and more poetry lately, mostly so I can talk to Seth about it.

“I’m just tutoring Seth,” I say, knowing it’s a lie even before the words leave my mouth. “That’s the end of the story.”

And I wish it was my current story, instead of being trapped in my dorm room, waiting around for my dad to call. He usually calls every Sunday afternoon, and I’ve been dreading it all day.

“You tutor Seth almost every day,” Brie insists. “I mean, the dude’s bad at science, but he’s not
that
bad.”

I bite my lip, not sure how to respond to that, since it’s completely true. Seth is actually pulling great grades in his Chem class, and we really don’t need to be meeting as often as we do. We’ve also been getting together for the photo project, and after reading Parker’s paper another time, working on the photos feels even more natural. We’ve gotten two more shoots done, so I now have photos for the sixth and seventh steps of the project. We took them in the cafeteria and the library, which seemed to fit the steps’ themes of friendship and introspection.

Even though I technically have good reason to be around Seth so much, our times together are starting to feel more than just friendly. I know I should have put an end to it weeks ago, but...

He’s Seth. He’s sweet and witty and smart, and I want to be around him, and it’s so messed up, but my whole damn life is messed up.

Brie lets out a frustrated sigh when she doesn’t get a response from me. “Plus,” she says, “you’re helping him with Parker’s project. That means something.”

I shoot her an exasperated look as I snatch up
Little Women
and shove it toward the yellows. “Oh, that’s right, I’d forgotten. Collaborating on the photo projects of dead relatives is the next big thing in romance.
Seventeen Magazine
totally said so.”