I wanted to capture moments in time – movements that were otherwise rarely photographed. I wanted to capture communication, joy, and intimate gestures between people, but also sadness, tensions, and the dark sides of humanity. I wanted reality in my pictures. And so far, this campus has offered quite a bit of it.
I stopped and picked up my camera. When I pressed the little black button on the side, the album opened, filled with the pictures of the last 3 hours. Flowers, flowers, and more flowers.
Groaning, I scrolled at the little wheel, and little by little, it showed me several pictures of the faculty. For a second, I wondered what it would be like to create a collection of pictures of Vanderwood, but quickly dismissed the idea.
I wondered how many had done that before me.
The next picture was of Bay. She was lying in bed, half-covered, and the rising sun was casting a shadow of stripes on her sweet face.
As I looked at it longer, I noticed her red cheeks and tousled hair.
The worry I was feeling about her had almost made me not leave the house this morning. Bayla was still not conscious. And I couldn’t possibly have left her alone, but Grace, who had put a foul-smelling cloth bag under my friend’s nose and promised me she’d wake up all right, had also been the one who had finally been able to convince me to go to English class with sexy Alarik Copeland.
I regretted it a little. What if she had another one of those seizures like the Bardot guy had described? Bay had apparently passed out. That was all he had said.
What had she been doing with this guy anyway? She had wanted to look for Emely, hadn’t she?
Emely had come back at some point and had asked this Bardot what he was doing in our room. And then they had both disappeared together.
Nothing more had happened since then. Bay had slept like a bear drugged with sleeping pills, and since I always liked to annoy her, I had finally taken the photo that I would sooner or later put in one of the numerous university binders.
I had already done something like that before. Just let a few embarrassing pictures of us – or of her alone – disappear in her things until they reappeared one day and put a big grin on my best friend’s face.
Now, standing here in an empty hallway with the camera in my hands, I kind of regretted it. Bay was having a shitty time and I just took pictures. What had I been thinking?
Determined, my fingers slid over the red button, and as I pressed, the question appeared asking if I really wanted to delete the picture. I chose yes and was about to confirm when I suddenly heard voices.
“Next time, I won’t just polish his pretty nose.”
“Leave it at that, Miles. We’re above these mutts.”
I quickly closed my camera’s gallery and lowered the camera, searching for the source of the voices.
A few feet away was a corner I couldn’t see around, so I crept quietly to the large column to see more.
“But you’re not going to let them boss you around like that, are you? We should show them what happens when they mess with a DeLoughrey,” replied a tall guy who wore his brown hair nearly down to his chin.
I recognized him and the others immediately by their clothing, including the handsome black-haired man with great cheekbones who, like the tall athletic one, was dressed entirely in black. The shirt clung tightly to his trained body...
“This is their territory. Don’t forget that,” he murmured, slightly annoyed, looking at the brown-haired guy warningly.
“They treat us like a bunch of dirt, Adrian,” the brown-haired one replied, slightly tense.
Adrian. What a nice name.
“You want trouble with Nicolaj?” The blond contributed to the conversation this time.
The brown-haired man rolled his eyes silently.
Apparently, he didn’t like something about the blond guy’s words at all.
I liked what I was seeing. A casual conversation full of tension. If that was not worth a photo...
Very carefully, I lifted my camera and peeked through the lens.
“And if Nicolaj never finds out?” the brown-haired guy finally continued.
And there it was. The expression on the black-haired man’s face. Full of disapproval, but at the same time there was so much more. A hint of boldness? Defiance? Almost longing and yet doubting.
I didn’t know, but I did what I thought was right at that moment and pressed the button. A small, barely audible click sounded.
With a jerk, three heads turned to me, and I disappeared as fast as I could behind the column.
Shit. There was no way they could have noticed that. I should get out of here as fast as possible before they would discover me for real.
But where was I supposed to go?
“Hello there. Who do we have here?”
I flinched in such a way that my camera would have almost slipped out of my hands if I hadn’t gripped it strongly. I hung it back around my neck far too quickly.
Standing in front of me was the brown-haired guy with a mischievous grin on his lips. How had he gotten here so hectically?
“Look, Adrian, who I found here...” he shouted.
The next second, the black-haired man appeared.
For a very brief moment, I seemed to discover surprise in his dark brown eyes, but in a split second, it turned into a look similar to that of the brown-haired man.
