Page 9 of You Are Not Me

“No idea. It’s got autofocus. That’s about all I know.”

“Oh. Autofocus is good.”

Daniel’s smile tilted at the edges playfully. “But…?”

I shrugged. “But there’s so much more you can get out of a camera when you have control.”

“Oh, I bet.” Somehow he made it sound dirty.

Hoping he thought my cheeks were red from the thick humidity, I adjusted the f-stops and shutter speed, making an educated guess at the settings. Then I unhooked the Leica from my neck and held it out to him, my heart thudding. I didn’t normally let anyone touch my cameras.

“Here. It’s not as hard as it looks.”

Daniel’s large hand folded around the body of my Leica. He stared at it like it might bite or take flight, chuckling under his breath. “I don’t—”

“It’s easy. Hold it up. In the viewfinder, you’ll see a yellow rectangle.”

“Okay.” Daniel nodded, the camera body obscuring half his face. “I see it.”

“That’s the rangefinder. Now, aim for something you want to take a picture of.”

He pointed the camera at me, and my stomach flipped.

“You see how there are two images that don’t overlap?”

“I see two of you. Should I?”

“Yeah. Slowly adjust the lens until there’s just one of me.” I resisted the urge to run a hand over my humidity-frizzed hair. “Once the images overlap completely take the shot.”

Daniel clicked and then clicked again. “Nice.”

My cheeks had to be as red as the sunset blooming over the woods. Daniel handed the camera back.

I took it and tried to think of something to say. “Good work.”

Wow, could I be any more boring? Probably.

Daniel frowned down at the parking lot where only Betty Blue remained. “Where’s your car?”

“At Carl Cowan. I walked the trail over here.”

Daniel looked back over his shoulder toward the woods. “How far is it?”

“Not bad. Less than a mile.”

Daniel shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll go with you. You can show me more about your camera.” He nudged my shoulder as I fell into step beside him. “And I can watch the genius at work.”

Night was descending rapidly, and the trail was a lot darker than when I’d come over. I couldn’t say I hated the idea of his company—both because the woods were scarier now and because, well, he was Daniel. Something about him always made my heart trip.

“Are you sure? You shouldn’t walk the trail back alone in the dark.”

“You can drive me over here for Blue Betty.”

“All right.” Happiness fizzed inside. I might be the same dork I’d always been, but Daniel didn’t seem to mind. Maybe Adam wasn’t the only one who could still like me after getting to know me.

Back on the trail, the river lapped at the rocks on our left. The twitter of night birds and cicadas ramped up in the woods to our right. The trees overhead muted the already fading light.

I helped Daniel take a few more shots with the Leica, trying and failing to explain the f-stops and shutter speed. I set them for him and then allowed him to take any pictures he wanted. Every time, he took a picture of me.

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