This selfie session felt different.Less forced, more natural.Surely the pictures reflected that.
“Wow, these are actually ...pretty awful.”He scrunched his nose as his thumb swiped left.
“What?Let me see.”I pulled the screen down and heard his chuckle as I did.
“Actually, I lied.They’re beautiful; like you.”
I swallowed and looked at the photo staring at me.There was something there, something I didn’t see in our selfies from Lake Louise.It caused our faces to brighten, our grins to crinkle our eyes, and we appeared relaxed.Whatever the reasoning was, it had changed us as the smiles were genuine, especially the ones where we faced each other.
A faint heat warmed my cheeks when it dawned on me what it was.It was affection, natural and pure, and undeniably; it radiated it from us both.
The ferry horn sounded long and low, and something in my chest echoed back.
“You ever think about how strange it is,” I said, “that we’re always in between places?Like, we’re never actually where we’re going.We’re just...getting there.”
“That might be the most Anna thing you’ve ever said,” he replied.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.You’re always thinking about what’s next.”
The waves danced across the water, moving slowly with purpose.
“Is that a bad thing?”
He considered it.“Not bad.Just...careful.”
Careful.The word landed like a bruise.
We stood there in silence again, the kind that wasn’t empty but full of everything we weren’t saying.
A couple passed behind us, laughing, arms slung easily around each other.I felt it then; the sharp, unexpected ache of wanting something I wasn’t sure I was allowed to reach for.
“Anna,” Tristan said quietly.
I turned toward him, heart stuttering.
“Can I ask you something?”he continued.“And you can absolutely say no.”
I tried to joke.“You’ve already asked that question once today.You’re on thin ice, Buddy.”
With that statement, his smile flickered.“I know.I just...need to know where your head is.”
I swallowed the lump forming in the back of my throat.The wind tugged impatiently at my jacket.
“I’m scared,” I admitted, but felt a wave of relief in vocalizing it.
His brow furrowed slightly.“Of me?”
“No, no.Of course not.”I shook my head and lowered my gaze to the top of his sweater.“Of how easy this feels.”
That did it.His expression shifted.It wasn’t surprised, or smug, just honest.
He tipped my chin up with the crook of his finger and looked deep into my eyes.“I am too.”
The admission sat between us, fragile and shared.
“Easy doesn’t last,” I continued, words spilling now.“Because I’ve built my life around not needing anyone.Around being enough on my own.And wanting you—wanting this—feels like standing on a dock with one foot already off.”
