“Can you take our pictures sometime?” 

Jenny approached me with this question one day during lunch one September day. She was holding hands with her boyfriend, Grant. He was walking slowly behind Jenny and let go of her hand as soon as they got to me. He put his hands in his pocket and looked out into the distance. This is the first time I had actually seen him in person. I heard a ton about him from Jenny. But he didn’t seem like how she’d described him to be. He was definitely a jock. He seemed very aloof and a little bit dumb. By that, I mean, it didn’t seem like he had a lot going on in his mind. Maybe that was just me thinking he was a stereotypical jock. I got the sense that he was the type to get nervous easily. He was pretty too. He was in wrestling, so he had to be muscular. With a physique almost like a lean Greek statue, you could see his big arms through the sleeves of his shirt. His chiseled legs peeked out from under his khaki shorts. Aside from that, he had fluffy dark hair that framed his golden-colored face and cheekbones. It almost looked like he styled his hair that morning, yet he didn’t seem like the type to put effort into his appearance. And then there were his eyes. They might not have looked that special to other people, but I would have been able to stare into those eyes forever. 

“Please, Dean?”

“Sure,” I told Jenny. 

The day that I took their pictures was the first time that I hung out with both of them together. We had gone to West Park, a park in town where everyone goes to take pictures, but for good reason. It was a really pretty day. We smoked beforehand (West Park was also where everyone in town goes to smoke). The pictures came out alright; they were a little bit overexposed from the sun. The session photos came out alright, albeit a little awkward. Mostly, I think Jenny kept wanting to be really affectionate with Grant, but he was being really hesitant. 

The three of us went to get ice cream afterward. It was more pleasurable than I expected and not just because we smoked before. I found out Grant was witty and funny. He had that sense of humor, where he would tell some stupid joke, and he would reuse it over and over again. But that made it funnier for some reason.

I learned he liked movies and books and that became something we would bond over. I said something about a small foreign film I saw recently, and I was surprised to find out he had seen it as well. He seemed to be engaged in our conversations; it seemed like he enjoyed my company. The idea that I might befriend a straight guy enraptured but also frightened me. It had been so long since I was regularly in the company with one and I did not know what the dynamic would be like. And we did become friends, in fact, we hung out, the three of us, several times throughout the semester.

–

One November day, Grant approached me during lunch. It was like when he and Jenny came up to me for the first time, except he was alone this time. 

“Do you think you can take my senior pictures?” He said. I forgot he was a senior; Jenny and I were juniors. He was nervous when he asked me this, which made me nervous to answer. I just looked up at him, while I thought.

“I know. Senior pictures are dumb. But my mom really wants me to get some, and you’re the only photographer I know.”

“Sure, of course I will.” 

Sure, we were friends. But I think that the idea of us being friends outside of hanging with Jenny was weird for us to imagine at first. 

On the day of the shoot, he picked me up in his black Ford pickup truck. He was wearing his bright red letterman and a pair of blue Wranglers. It was a little awkward at first. I don’t think either of us knew what to talk about. He raised the volume on a rock song he had played and told me a little about the artist; I hadn’t heard of him before.

We went to West Park, again. We smoked in the woods, again. It was a really bright day, with lots of overcast. It was windy and not too cold. I remember it being the first day that felt like a fall to me. I always thought that different seasons had different energies and different scents. That day smelled like fall. Being there reminded me of taking pictures of Jenny and him. That day was very different. It felt more intimate, almost. 

It was hard to get good shots of Grant at first. He seemed generally tense and every time he posed, he gave an almost pitiful smile. It was like taking pictures in the yearbook, he just showed his teeth, but wasn’t really smiling. I asked him to start dancing in the field; he thought I was joking. I wasn’t. I find that when I ask a client to dance, it makes for a good candid picture. It also helps loosen them up and make the session feel more comfortable. He started shimmying- weakly. 

“No. Really dance. Pretend there is music playing!”

He started to spin and move from side to side to a nonexistent song. It was funny and cute. He instantly acted more relaxed. I wanted him to know he could feel comfortable not only during the session but also around me. He cheesed and, with his hands in the air, looked at the camera. I took the picture.

I never liked how overcast made my pictures look, but I didn’t mind it that time. After a bit, we took a break. We sat and lay on the yellow grass. Grant took off his letterman. Underneath, he was wearing a white t-shirt. It fit him just right, showing off his muscles. It made him look really good. He mostly looked out into the distance, like he usually does. But it still felt like he was present. He asked me questions. Mostly random questions like how I got into photography or why I like it. I hate talking about myself, but I did try to answer his questions. I told him how I got a camera when I was 13 and realized I was kind of good. I decided to start taking pictures of my friends and family. 

I told him how my favorite part of photography is being able to capture special moments and authentic emotions on camera. He asked me if I was able to capture any authentic emotions of his that day. I responded with a joke about him being less awkward than when he was with Jenny on camera, which was kind of true.

When he was done interrogating me on my craft, I asked him about his plans after graduation. He explained to me how he was unsure. Then, he opened up about how he felt like everyone around him had their own expectations for him. He didn’t know what he wanted for himself, though he knew he didn’t like his family or friends’ ideas of him. I told him I understood what he meant, and we both went quiet and just looked out at the park, at the field and the trees and the distant hills. I always forgot that the view was actually really pretty- astounding, in some regards. A gushing wind came by, and I noticed that he fixed his position and got closer to me. He put his arm behind me, and I quickly became very aware of my breathing. I looked over at him; he was already looking at me. 

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“Do you want to get back to, um, taking pictures,” I asked, and neither of us moved at all. I wasn’t sure where this was going, actually. I just stayed and stared.

“Yeah. In a second.”

The next thing I knew his lips found their way to mine. 

We didn’t kiss for very long but enough that it meant something. “Sorry,” he told me. It was like we were in a Hollywood romance, the way he kissed me and the way he turned his head after. He was contemplating things, I could tell. “Don’t be,” I whispered so quietly I’m not even sure if he heard.

Our car ride home was quiet and peaceful, almost. When he dropped me off, I ached for him to kiss me goodbye. But all I got was, “Thanks for the pictures.” 

“Yeah, of course,” I replied and gave him a smile as I got out of his car. At home that day, I didn’t know what to think, how to feel. I was giddy. I was nervous. I was excited. In some ways, I was unsure what our kiss that day meant. I had no reason to believe it meant anything more than a straight man who was curious and wanted to test out his curiosity. He could have been just really high. He could have been bored. I decided not to do or think anything more about it until/unless he made another move. 

“So how did the pictures come out?” Grant asked me as he sat down next to me at the library, a few days later. I put my book down and told him I hadn’t developed any of them yet.

“I was actually going to go to the darkroom today to start on them.”

“You know, I’ve always wanted to go into a dark room.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I always see it in movies and think it would be cool. Plus, I don’t know anything about how photography works. It would be cool to see what it’s like.”

“I suppose.”

I paused for a moment. I wasn’t sure if I should say what I ended up saying, which was:

“Would you want to come with me to develop the photos? I could teach you a few things.”

“I would love that.”

He would love that, he said. 

I never thought much about dark rooms, but Grant found the red fascinating. That day, I showed him the process of developing photos and let him pull out the first one from the tray. When it dried, the image revealed a smiling Grant leaning against a tree. I grinned and let him know it was a good picture. He turned to look at me. I felt his strong, yet tender, hand run through my hair. He’s about a foot taller than me, so I just kept looking up at him. He moved closer to me and put us in the kiss or hit zone. 

“You’re a good photographer, you know?” He whispered as if someone was listening to us.

“Thank you,” Wanting to keep the conversation going, I told him, “You’re so mysterious.” I don’t know why I said he was mysterious, that’s not the word I wanted to use.

“Am I?” He laughed.

“Kinda. Maybe, I just find you intriguing. But you’re not quite the person you appear to be.” I struggled with wanting to look at him. I kept getting scared of making eye contact with him. I’m not sure why. Perhaps I was scared I would become too infatuated, or I knew that I would.

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes, it’s a good thing.”

“Good.” 

I looked at him and made eye contact. The truth is, I really was so intrigued by him. There was so much I wanted to ask him. But all I did ask was, “What do you want to do?” I wanted to ask if he liked me and if he wanted to go out with me. Or, if he wanted to go on a date. Or, if he wanted to come over or go to dinner and hold my hand. I wanted to know if he wanted to love me, and I wondered what love meant to him. 

“Like right now,” he asked, and I nodded. “Um,” he paused then continued, “I’m meeting up with Jenny in a bit, so I should probably go soon, actually.”

“Oh, right.” I didn’t forget about Jenny, but maybe part of me wished he had. He looked at me like he was sorry, which I’m sure he was. I didn’t wish to have a conversation about it. The rest of our time together that day was short. It felt romantic being there under the red lamp with him until he had to rush off to meet his girlfriend. I can’t say I was not upset on some level about the situation. Part of me liked the idea of being someone’s secret, of sneaking off with someone. But at the same time, I had no desire to be like this forever. I wanted something real.

The next time I saw him was at a party Jenny invited me to. The three of us were hanging out for some part of the night, but Jenny kept running into friends. Grant and I were left sitting on a random couch. It was safe to say, we were very drunk. He asked me if I was having fun, and I told him I was. When I asked if he was having fun, he said he was bored.

“I want to dance.”

I smiled. “Okay. Let’s go dance then.” I stopped thinking and grabbed his hand and dragged him to the so-called dance floor. It was really just someone’s living room with a bunch of teenagers dancing off beat. The music was probably bad. The makeshift red and blue party lights were probably pitiful. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t thinking, just moving and existing. Maybe Grant wasn’t as drunk as me, but at times, it seemed like he was worried about something. He kept looking around. I think he might’ve been worried someone would suspect something. At one point a slow song came on, and he said, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Okay.”

He grinned, then mouthed, “Come with me.”

I didn’t respond; I just followed him to the bathroom. I sat on the ledge of the tub while he did his business. After he washed his hands, he came over and sat next to me. He started touching my torso. I just kept following his eyes.

“I really like you, Dean.”  

I don’t remember how long we were in the bathroom, but it was a while until we figured we should return to the party.

–

Jenny asked me to coffee the next day. It had been a while since we hung out just the two of us. I can’t deny that I was nervous. She asked how I was, and I said I was doing good, which was true. She said she was doing well. When I asked her how she and Grant were, she paused. At first, she said they were alright. Then, she started confessing. She told me how she felt like he was growing distant and how he had been acting differently. As we sat at the coffee shop table, I couldn’t help but feel guilty. I kept drinking my glass of water, faster than I should, trying to act as normal as possible. I hoped she would not notice if I was acting weird. She knew we had hung out a couple of times, though it was unclear how much she knew or suspected. She asked me if, by any chance, Grant had opened up to me at all.

“Not really. I guess I didn’t notice much of a difference. I don’t really know him that well,” I lied to her. She changed the subject faster than I expected, and I felt a sudden sense of relief. To a certain extent, it was nice to catch up with her. I forgot what it was like to be with her just one-on-one. In the back of my mind, however, I kept thinking about Grant. 

I took the next week as a way for me to focus on myself. I didn’t see Jenny. I didn’t see Grant. I just thought a lot. I realized that I couldn’t let the situation continue. But that is a lot easier to realize than it is to think about following through on. Grant was the first guy to admit that he liked me, the first guy I kissed, and the first person to make me feel admired and wanted. The thought crossed my mind a couple of times that I should confess to Jenny what was going on. I decided against it as it gave me too much anxiety to think about. More than anything, I got really scared. I was scared of losing something that made me happy, and I was scared of losing my friends. 

I biked to Grant’s house one cold Winter morning to give him his senior photos. When he opened the door, he was acting weird. I said “Hi,” but he just motioned for me to come inside. We sat on his bed, with some distance between us. I looked around his room. He had a bunch of movie posters and a huge bookcase filled with novels and albums. He had a record playing, so softly I couldn’t make out what song was playing. He was wearing a white tank top and running shorts. I think earlier in the relationship, I would have been obsessed with the way he looked that day, but my mind was thinking of other things. He threw a sweatshirt on and asked me if I had talked to Jenny. I hadn’t, not since coffee. 

They broke up, he told me. He didn’t say who dumped who, though I don’t think it mattered. I felt some sort of momentary relief. For half a second, I thought it meant we could be together. This thought went away quickly. I knew we couldn’t. I knew he would not come out for me, and I knew we could not keep sneaking around. I knew we couldn’t even be friends. I told him. We couldn’t do this anymore. He just nodded. He seemed solemn, but I couldn’t get a feel for what he was thinking. It’s odd. Thinking back to when I was getting to know him, I thought that I understood him more, or at least differently than other people. At that moment, I had no idea. 

I handed him his photos. 

“I hope you like them. I hope your mom likes them.” He gave me a laugh. “There are some really great pictures of you in there.”

He walked me out shortly after that. I thought I was not going to see or speak to him again. A few years later, I saw him at a nightclub in the city, one of the queer ones. It was Jenny who spotted him, actually. She pulled me aside and said, “Did I ever tell you that Grant came out?” She hadn’t. “Well, apparently, he did. In college. Thinking back, it kind of explains some things. Anyway, he’s here. Isn’t that crazy?”

It was crazy. It was crazy to see him again, to be at a gay club with him. I was drunk and having a good time, yet I couldn’t help but remember when I met him, when I took his photos, and when we kissed. When I finally locked eyes with him across the room, I waved at him. I was happy for him, and I wanted him to know that. He smiled when he saw me but didn’t approach since I’m sure he saw Jenny. His style hadn’t changed much, and he still looked the same. But you could tell he was very different. He seemed content, genuine. He was himself. 

I went to the outdoor patio as I waited for Jenny to get back from the bathroom. I was looking around to find someone cute or someone with a cigarette. I would’ve settled for either. Instead, what I found was Grant walking over to me, which I wasn’t expecting him to do. This sobered me up, and I started to get nervous. I wasn’t sure what to say, what to do. Despite being happy for him, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to talk to him, especially not as Jenny was bound to return at any second.

“I was hoping I would be able to find you out here,” he slurred out and sat down next to me. He was a lot drunker than I was. There was sweat across his face and his hair was slicked back. 

“It’s funny seeing you here. I was surprised.” I didn’t know what else to say.

“Yeah, things have changed for me, as you might be able to tell.” He laughed, put his hand on my thigh, then continued. “I think I made a mistake. When we stopped seeing each other.” He rambled. He just kept talking about how he should have come out in high school. We should have kept seeing each other. He missed me, he said. If I was still in high school, hearing this would have been different for me. By this point however, I was over him. I had no intention of really reconnecting with him, at least I thought so. I stood up and tried to tell him. 

“Look, I appreciate it, but-” I was going to tell him I didn’t have feelings for him anymore. What’s in the past is the past, and even if it wasn’t, that wasn’t the time nor place to have that conversation. Except I couldn’t tell him that because he interrupted me with a kiss. I let him. Still being kind of intoxicated, it felt nice at first, I felt the sound from the dance floor drown out. His hands on my face were warm and sweaty from dancing. It felt almost comfortable to be that close with him again. It quickly reminded me of high school. It reminded me of being lonely and desperate for company, I guess in some ways I still was. It reminded me of my mistakes and my guilt. I thought about Jenny, and how sad she was when she and Grant broke up. I pulled away from his face.

Shaking my head, I told him, “I have to go.” I turned around to find Jenny walking towards the door. I wasn’t sure what she saw. I couldn’t look at her. 

“What was that? Were you talking to Grant?”

“I’ll tell you later. We should call a car home.” She just followed me through the sea of bodies, quietly. I didn’t look back at her, and never looked back at Grant. I wasn’t sure what I would say to her in the car. 

The two of us sat in the back seat with the middle seat between us. It felt like we were a world apart. Getting close to the verge of tears, I stared at the window and didn’t look at Jenny. 

“Did you kiss Grant?” I froze. Of course, she saw the kiss. How could she not have? I nodded. “Do you like him?” I shook my head, then thought about the question.

“I don’t. I don’t think so.”

“Why are you crying?” There was anger in her voice. I didn’t realize it, but there were tears streaming down my face. “I’m so sorry,” I mumbled out. I took a couple of moments to wipe my face, then proceeded to tell her everything. The few times I looked over at her, she was sitting just like I was, with her eyes planted on the mirror, avoiding my face like the plague. The driver dropped us at her apartment. I briefly wondered what the old man driving thought of the situation, what he thought of me. Did he think I was a shitty friend? I knew I was. 

I followed Jenny up the walkway, knowing she wouldn’t let me stay with her that night. I just wanted to talk to her and let her know how sorry I was. 

“Jenny, please say something. I know you’re mad, but we need to talk.”

“I’m not mad. Not really.” She faced me as she wiped her eyes. “I’m sad. I’m distraught. I don’t know if I’m mad. I don’t really care about Grant anymore. But it fucking sucks to hear that you lied to me for so many years. Like how could you do that? Did you have such disregard for me that you can go behind my back like that? And keep me in the dark about it?

“I asked you! I asked what was going on with Grant. I gave you an opportunity to come forward. You lied. Did you love him that much?”

She was completely right. 

“I don’t know. I didn’t do it to spite you or hurt you. You have to believe that. Being with him was just different. I felt such a deep connection with him, that despite not liking that we had to keep it a secret, I felt the need to. He made me feel comfortable, and it felt nice to be the object of someone’s desires. I didn’t know what to do with myself.” I knew this didn’t make the wound I inflicted on her sting any less. I had to say it. Even if she never forgave me, deep down, I needed her to know. 

She didn’t say anything else. I was left outside her apartment with only my tears and regret.

–

I got two messages a few days later. The first was from Grant, which I guess I was expecting after he drunkenly poured his heart to me at the nightclub. He told me he was sorry about the other night. He shouldn’t have kissed me or told me all of that. He said he still meant what he said. He told me he was returning to college soon, and he wanted to see me before he left. I never responded to his message. I wished him the best.

Jenny also sent me a message. Her message seemed relatively calm. She told me she didn’t want me to think she hated me (which I was thinking). However, she stood by what she said the other night. She still didn’t understand completely why I did what I did. But on some level, she recognized that I was being genuine when I described how I felt about Grant. That being said, I knew she would have to take some time before we could reconnect. 

I sent her a message of my own. I told her more than anything, I wanted her forgiveness. I wasn’t sure if we would ever be friends again or be as close as we were before. I let her know that despite what she may have thought, she meant a lot to me.

I realized that no matter how lonely and single I felt, the relationships that I ought to have focused on were right in front of me. I felt more devastated t when I hurt Jenny and lost my friendship with her than when I broke things off with Grant. I found comfort in myself and in being alone. I would grow to sometimes even desire solitude. I can’t lie and say I never felt unhappy when I thought about my love life or my past. Yet when I thought of it, I thought about the person I was and the obstacles I went through to find love in, what often seems, a lonely world. I knew I couldn’t and wouldn’t be that person again, and I found peace in that.