Photography, much like any form of art, can be a risk. That’s always been the appeal for me, but truth be told, I didn’t really care for photography at first. In fact, I kind of hated it—only because I put a lot of pressure on myself to come up with the perfect image. After spending an entire semester last year messing around with the camera, I realized the best images aren’t perfect at all. Sometimes, they’re a little rough around the edges, even perceived in different ways depending on who’s looking at them. Most importantly, they’re special because they’re unique.

If only the world viewed life the same way.

Hurrying back to class, I’m so anxious to get inside the darkroom, I didn’t even realize it only took me fifteen minutes, but when I walk into an empty classroom, it’s clear I’m the first to finish.

“That was fast, Kinsley.”

I nod my head at Mr. Jasper. “I knew what I wanted to take a picture of before I left the room.”

After I put my camera back in its case, I stand inside the column that spins me around into the darkroom. I love taking pictures, but developing them, watching as they come to life, is what had me falling in love with the medium last year.

“Hey, Kinsley.”

I thought I was the first one back, but as I step into the darkroom and hear my name, there’s no mistaking Rhett—even if my eyes are still adjusting. “Hey.”

I walk over to where he’s standing, grabbing an apron off the hook on the wall. It’s next to the list of darkroom rules, but right now, my only concern is remembering how to breathe.

He looks up and smiles at me. It’s not the reaction I was expecting considering I figured he’d ignore me like he usually does. Rhett even makes room for me at the end of the table, right next to him.

We work in silence for the first few minutes, making the small room seem even more awkward than it already is. But what do I say to him? It’s not like we’re friends or anything.

“I feel like I could hear an ant sneeze right now,” Rhett says, out of the blue.

“You probably could.”

“Did you have a good summer?”

Again, he surprises me when he asks me questions like he actually cares. “I worked a lot and I spent a week at the beach with Becca’s family. Wyatt took me to a Luke Bryan concert. That was pretty cool. How was yours?”

He shrugs his shoulders like it was just, eh. There’s no way his life is ever mediocre, so I know he had to have done at least a couple of interesting things. His family usually goes on pretty expensive vacations every summer. “Decent. Did the beach thing and worked my summer job before football started. The usual.”

I nod my head, surprised again when he doesn’t brag or boast. “Sounds nice.”

There’s another lull in the conversation, but it’s not as uncomfortable as when I first walked in. In fact, if I was meeting Rhett for the first time today, I’d think he was reserved—slightly quiet even. And that’s not the kind of word anyone would typically use to describe him.

“How’s Wyatt? He’s at PSU right?”

“Yeah, I haven’t heard from him in a couple days. I’m sure he’s living it up though. Usually does.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Rhett says, with a knowing smile.

Being teammates for a couple years, he knows all too well how much my brother enjoys partying and female attention. “He can be a jackass, I know.”

Rhett laughs, “Can’t argue there, either.”

“Most guys in this school are though–especially the ones on the team.”

“Ouch,” he says, covering his heart.

“I didn’t mean you. You’re different.”

He looks up at me, a confused expression on his face. “Thank you, I think.”

“Sorry, that came out wrong.”

“What did you mean?”

I tuck my hair behind my ear, thankful it’s dark enough in here to hide the fact that I’m turning red. “I don’t know what I was trying to say. They definitely wouldn’t be talking to me right now if they were in your shoes though, that’s for sure. That already makes you a non-asshole—at least for today.”

His shoulders shake, as he laughs at me. I regret ever opening my mouth. “Forget it, sorry.”

“Na, I get what you’re saying—even if you did have a shitty delivery.”

“Thanks, I wasn’t trying to call you an asshole. You aren’t.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

Why am I so bad at this? “My opinion doesn’t really matter anyway.”

I wait for him to laugh at me, again, but he doesn’t. This time, he looks at me with a straight face when he says, “Your opinion matters, Kinsley.”

I shrug my shoulders. “Probably not.”

“Well, it matters to me.”

I stop what I’m doing to look at him. The way he said it matters to him, was kind, caring even. It makes no sense why he of all people would care. “It does?”

He nods his head, turning to face me. “Of course it does. You’re real. You don’t bullshit. I respect that from a chick.”

“I’m a girl, not a chick. Chicks are usually bitchy—at least from my experiences. Wyatt’s had enough of them at the house over the years for me to know the difference.”

“Sounds like you met some winners.”

“I have, but I have a lot of time to think, too. People watching is my thing. You can figure out a lot about a person just by watching them.”

“Okay, then tell me what else you think—about me.”

If I answer him, I’m pretty much admitting I watch him. Though he did ask for my opinion, it doesn’t seem like a good idea to give it. I swallow, chewing on my lip, as I try to come up with something to say that won’t result in any embarrassing confessions or hurt feelings. “Um, well. I don’t know, Rhett.”

“Sure you do. You have lots of opinions, you just don’t say them out loud very often.”

He couldn’t be more right. I’m usually too afraid to speak up, so I don’t. “True.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because everyone has too much dirt on me as it is, and nobody really cares what I have to say anyway. I’d rather stay invisible than stand out.” I don’t need anyone slinging trash at me about my past. It’s not worth being heard if I’m only going to be mocked. Plus, until this year, my brother did enough talking for the both of us.

“Kinsley, we’ve known each other a really long time. Just because we don’t hang out, doesn’t mean I don’t observe things, too. You don’t think people see you, but they do. I see you. Every single day.”

“I like to blend in.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not some spray tanned, cheerleader Barbie with long legs, hair extensions, fake nails, and a push-up bra. Those girls are living one big lie. Their appearance is as fake as their personality. And I can’t be fake.” I have too many skeletons to pretend to be anything other than what I am.

“And that’s why I notice you, Kinsley.”

“You notice me? You want me to believe the Rhett Taylor notices me.”

“Yes.”

“Why? You’re you, and I’m me. We’re opposites.” I don’t ask him because I’m fishing for compliments. I ask because I’m intrigued—genuinely curious as to why Rhett would ever be trying to figure me out.

“Maybe I like you,” he says, without a hint of mockery in his tone. “And opposites attract.”

“Okay, Paula Abdul.” I try to play off what he said, but all I can do is swallow around the lump in my throat. I wasn’t expecting an answer like that one. “What’s the deal?”

“There is no deal, Kinsley. Can I borrow that?” He gestures toward the bottle of developer in my hand.

I stand, staring at him, wondering what the catch is. There’s no way Rhett likes me for me. There has to be more to it.

“The bottle,” he says, again.

I hand it to him. “Sure, I’m finished.”

As he takes it from me, our fingers touch ever so slightly. I pull my hand away from his like he electrocuted me, again earning a chuckle from him.

“You okay?” he questions.

I clear my throat. “I’m fine.” I want to ask him what he means when he says he likes me, but I don’t. The dreamer in me wants it to mean exactly what it sounds like, but that’s only setting myself up for disappointment. High school isn’t a Disney movie.