Page 75 of Safe With You

“What do you want to know?”

“When did you know you wanted to be a photographer?”

I looked down at the laptop between us.

There wasn’t one answer.

I’d taken pictures long before I ever thought somebody might pay me for them. Disposable cameras when I was a kid. My mother’s old digital camera when I got older. A used DSLR I’d saved for months to buy because I was convinced better equipment would automatically make me better at using it.

It hadn’t.

“I don’t think I knew,” I said. “Not at first.”

Luna waited.

“I just liked taking pictures.”

“Of what?”

“Everything.”

“That sounds expensive.”

“It got expensive.”

She smiled.

“I was the annoying person who always had a camera around. Family stuff. Friends. Random things I thought looked interesting.”

“Were you good?”

“No.”

She laughed. “Not even a little?”

“I thought I was.”

“That’s worse.”

“Much worse.”

Her laugh lingered as she reached for her mug, and I found myself smiling with her.

“I got better. Eventually people started asking me to take pictures for them. Graduations first. A couple family sessions. Then somebody trusted me with a wedding, which I’m still not convinced was a good decision on their part.”

“Did you ruin it?”

“No.”

“Then I think you were fine.”

“They got lucky.”

“Or you were good.”

“Maybe both.”

I ran my thumb along the edge of my mug as she studied me for a second.