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I nod. I get it. It’s the same thing I feel when I get behind the camera: a loss of time, a flow, a perfection.
“Thank you,” he says, his hands going to my shoulders. His face looks different than I’ve seen it, as if some undefinable sort of tension has loosened. “This is what I came here for.”
“Really?” I can’t help but ask. “To catch shots of weird tapirs?”
“No, to catch great shots and work with great people.” His mouth quirks to the side. “From a business point of view, I’m just here to get the job done, but…”
“What’s the point if you don’t love it?” I finish, hyper-aware of how his hands are still resting on my shoulders, how I don’t want them to leave. “But you do. We do.”
And how we both get it is so satisfying that we stand there for a bit longer. Seconds, minutes, who knows. All I know is that we break apart and head back to the camp only when the next “Greyson!” comes and the spell is broken.Chapter 11Greyson
That night, I can’t sleep. I roll back and forth in my sleeping bag. I flip my pillow, smack my pillow, get rid of my pillow. But I can’t.
Something’s buzzing inside of me.
Something I haven’t felt since… the last time I sat in the producer’s chair.
Getting up, I sit with my sleeping bag bunched all around me and scowl at nothing.
Finally, I get out and look around me and see…
“Wow,” I whisper, my neck craned up.
I hadn’t even realized we’d reached a clearing until now. It’s not a full clearing, but enough that trees aren’t blocking the overhead view completely. With the result of a view that has me staring.
Before I know quite what I’m doing, I’m going over to Harley’s tent and, crouched at the door flap, whispering, “Harley?”
Nothing.
Good.
What was I thinking, coming over here to wake her? Sure, she should see this, but us alone at night isn’t a good idea.
“Ay?” comes back a murmur just as I’m turning away.
Shuffling, then an unzipping and her adorably rumpled head pops out. “Something wrong?”
Her eyes are still half-closed, her lips curled in a sleepy smile.
I grind my feet into the ground to avoid lunging there and kissing that smile bigger, rumpling that hair more. “Nothing important.”
A blink, then her eyes narrow my way. “Then why… wake up?”
Fuck, do I want her. Instead, I turn away. “I’ll tell you in the morning.”
More unzipping, more shuffling, and next thing I know she’s beside me.
“Do you ever listen to anyone?” I ask her wryly.
“Yeah, sometimes,” she says.
“Oh?”
“I used to listen to my parents, until I realized they were just flawed people.”
Surprised, I glance at her and she grimaces. “Sorry. I’m tired and a bit dopey. Kind of a depressing thing to say.”
“It’s true, though,” I admit. “It’s a sad day when you realize they aren’t the omnipotent beings you once thought they were.”
“But necessary,” she agrees, “to becoming an adult. That and owning your shit. Like, even if they did screw you up, it’s your responsibility to unscrew yourself.”
I laugh and inwardly curse myself at the same time. God, she’s so cool and fresh and honest and yet… why in the fuck do I have to get a boner when she says the word ‘screw’?
“So, how’s that going for you?” I find myself asking. “Unscrewing yourself.”
“It’s a process.”
Silence, then she says, “Hey, as much as I like wandering through potentially treacherous rainforests with no aim in sight, what are we doing?”
I freeze, and this time curse out loud.
You fuckwad. This is no way for a producer to act, and maybe even endangering Harley too?
Luckily, I’ve been leading us in wide circles around the still smoldering campfire, so we aren’t too far off.
“Shit, sorry, I…”
I trail off. I’m not about to admit that being around her messes with my head in a way I’ve never experienced before. That it’s almost like being in the producer’s chair, a clarity, a loss of time, a focus, a desire to stay in the state as long as humanly possible.
Get it together, Greyson.
I make a mental note to call up Nolan. He’s always been good at sorting out my brothers whenever they think they’ve found ‘the one’.
I point up overhead. “Thought you should see these.”
“Oh, I…” She falls silent as she sees what I see. Seeing them through her eyes, it’s like seeing them for the first time.
A mind-shattering amount of stars. The kind of view you expect to see in the middle of the desert maybe, or in some high-res image in a nature museum exhibit. Not just randomly trekking and happening to look up.
There’s big stars, small stars, spread-out dots of stars, constellations of stars.
“It makes you think.” Her voice is soft and clear in the night, like an auditory star. Our hands have found each other’s, hers cool and fitting right in mine. “Who else has seen stars like these? Peoples all throughout history, maybe even beings on other planets. Even me, as a kid, I was so self-absorbed, I didn’t give a shit about stars or stuff like that, so whenever I did see them, I didn’t really see them, if you know what I mean?”
