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He nods to himself. “Okay. Test passed.”
“What?” He was testing me to see if I’d run with that idea? He really thinks I learnednothingfrom all this shit.
“I’m still pissed at you,” he says matter-of-factly. “So, if you’re not submitting the doc so I won’t be mad at you, you might as well just do it. Don’t throw away your chance at the spot just for forgiveness.”
“It wouldn’t be right. I’ll just hold out hope they have the program next year and transfer in, if I can.” If I even want to pursue documentaries after this. If anything would deter me, it would be this whole experience. I’m in no shape to be adirector, a storyteller. My grandma would be disappointed. I’m just as bad asJersey Shore.
“I watched the footage. It was good.” He meets my eyes. “And those scenes you added... you were always filming?”
“It’s kind of my default setting, sorry.”
“No, it was nice.” He zones out over my shoulder for a second. “I think if I were in Trevor’s position, I would miss those normal moments more than the fun stuff.”
“I’m sorry,” I say again, and cringe because it’s such a Corrine thing to say over and over again. I’ve hit my wall. I literally don’t know what else to say. I fucked up and I’m so so so so sorry.
“I don’t like being mad at my best friend.”
My brain screams at my heart to not get its hopes up, and yet it starts racing. I shrug off his words. “Taj?”
“I obviously mean you. But you can’t do something like that again. Youcan’t.” His voice breaks and it echoes so loudly that I feel my heart crack, threatening to shatter.
“I promise I won’t. It was so fucking stupid and not worth it. Losing you was not worth it.”
He watches me for a moment. “You’ll have to make it up to me.”
“I’ll do anything.” The words fly out of my mouth faster than I expect them to and I stumble on the last word. “Anything,” I say again.
“I have an incomplete portrait assignment due next week.”
“Great, I have a face.” I even point at it to emphasize this very obvious fact.
He smirks. “Coming on a little strong, don’t you think?”
“That’s me: Saine ‘coming-on-a-little-strong’ Sinclair.”
For a moment we just stare at each other. He takes in my face, eyes roaming from top to bottom, while I just wait, nearly holding my breath. It feels like we’re on a precipice of something big, something that will define us for years to come, like the spin the bottle game I never expected to dictate my future.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and holds it up, clearly taking a photo of me. I let him, still waiting.
He smiles at the screen and then shows me. My cheeks are red, my hair is a little frizzy, my eyes are wide with dark circles that are only amplified by the terrible hospital lighting. And yet... I think I can see myself the way he sees me right now.
Vulnerable.
And it’s not a bad look.
Unknown
Today 3:07 PM
HI IT’S MARA
3:07 PM
I had to physically fight Holden to get your number
3:07 PM
So I assume you won?
