“No,” I said, waving her away. “Really?”
Jojo grinned, putting her elbows on the table and leaning in. “Really. You’ll still be helping at the office and cleaning his coffee table, I’m sure, but you’re going to be great. I can tell.”
“I’m not a journalist. I can’t write. I paid someone to do my papers in college.”
Jojo made a face. “You had to write papers for a degree in ceramics?”
I closed my eyes, embarrassed. “Yes.”
Jojo cackled, and I laughed with her, really laughed, for the first time in a long time.
“Thank you,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “I didn’t know I could laugh like that sober.”
Jojo rested her chin on the heel of her hand. “I know you’re supposed to be some kind of family fuck-up, but you’re not that bad. I can’t imagine you’ve changed that much in a month.”
“It’s amazing what detox and responsibility will do for a girl,” I said, only half-teasing.
“You’ve been doing so well. Not one slip-up.”
“It’s hard to drink or buy weed when you’re broke. And even if I had, I wouldn’t tell my boss.”
“I’m not your boss, and you’re not a liar. It’s not just about the money, Ellie, and it’s kind of sad, because I’ve been watching you work so hard, you’re still waiting to get it wrong.”
“That’s not true,” I said, shaking my head and fidgeting with my water glass.
Jojo breathed out a small laugh, and then began gathering her things. “Let’s go. You have work to do.”
Jojo dropped me off a block from the magazine, and I bent down, glaring at her through the open passenger side window. The exhaust was puffing from the back of her car, and my breath didn’t look much different.
“Really? Is this photography Survivor? It’s like nine degrees.”
Jojo waved at me. “There are some interesting things this way. I want to see how you see it.”
“Fine.”
“See you in a bit,” she said with a shit-eating grin.
My camera was cold against my skin, and I struggled to change the settings with my stiff fingers while Jojo pulled away, heading for the back lot behind our building.
I turned around, seeing an old house, and leaned back to see the antennae. I took a practice shot and checked it, tuned the settings again, and took another. When the display filled with my shot, I smiled. Jojo was right. Automatic mode sucked ass. It was a world of difference knowing how the adjustments would affect the picture.
I walked down the road, away from the MountainEar, getting lost in taking shots and then watching how the quality changed with the different variations of ISO, shutter speed, and exposure time. I took close-ups of leaves with snow, roofs with snow, broken down cars covered in snow, windows panes with snow … There was a lot of snow in my shots, but I made it work.
“Did you get fired?” Tyler, or Taylor, said from across the street. “Zeke and I have a bet going how long you’ll last.” He was squinting one eye against the setting sun, and I turned around, noticing it was peeking behind the mountains. I pulled back my coat sleeve to look at my watch. I’d been outside in freezing temps for two and half hours and had barely noticed.
“Which one are you?” I asked, putting away my camera.
He chuckled. “Tyler. Are you an insurance adjuster or something?” he asked with a smile.
“No. I’m taking pictures for the magazine now.”
“They must be hurting for help,” he teased.
“Fuck off,” I said, turning to walk the three blocks back to my building. Tyler had been standing in front of his station. I hadn’t realized I’d walked that far, either.
“Hey,” he called. I could hear his boots sloshing against the wet street and crunching against the rock salt before he reached me. “I was kidding.”
“So was I,” I said, continuing down the sidewalk.
“So, um.” He shoved his hands in his tan cargo pants. “You and Paige…”
“There is no me and Paige.”
“No? Why? Someone said you and her might be … You like guys, right? I mean … you’d have to after the night we had. I just can’t figure you out.”
“What’s to figure out?”
A grin slowly made its way across his face. “You, Ellie. I’m trying to figure you out.”
“You’re talking to me again.”
“I thought maybe this time it would be okay.”
“Why?”
His eyebrows pulled in. He was getting frustrated. “Do you, uh … still think about that night?”
“Not really, no.”
He sighed. “It’s been a month, Ellie.”
“I’m aware.”
“I still think about it.”
I took a breath, hoping I could exhale away how he made me feel. “We’ve talked about this,” I said, continuing my trek to the MountainEar.
“Ellie,” he said, chuckling nervously. “Could you stop and talk to me for just a second?”
I stopped, lifting my chin to meet his gaze. “So are you interested in me because I didn’t just fade away like the rest of your one-night stands, because of my father, or because I may or may not be into guys?”
“None of the above. Why are you being so difficult?”
“It was one night, Tyler. I was a different person then. I don’t want to be attracted to the sweaty fighter willing to take a drunk girl to bed anymore.”
He shoved his fists in his pockets and squinted one eye—that damned dimple in his cheek making another appearance. “You don’t want to be, but you are.”
He was so overconfident my insults didn’t faze him. He was too arrogant to believe me.
I kept walking. “You’re making this difficult. I’m trying to be clear. Just because I may not be at my strongest at the moment doesn’t mean I’m trying to send you mixed signals.”
“I’ve already taken you to bed. I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out.”
I stopped to scan his face, deciding if he was telling the truth or not. There was hope in his eyes, maybe a little bit of fear. Tyler was tall and bulky and wrestled with wildfires for a living, but he was scared of me, and with good reason. Behind all that muscle and badassery, Tyler was good, and that meant I was bad for him—even if I was better than I used to be.