Page 14 of Until Forever Falls

I bite my lip, looking over at the girl who just left. “She’s…something. Not the worst I’ve met, though.”

There’s a beat of silence before he presses further. “Oh yeah? Then who takes that honor?”

It’s a knee-jerk reaction, spat out like I can separate myself from it. “My mother.”

Brooks’ gaze is intense, full of questions, but before he can say anything more, the teacher begins the lesson, effectively ending the moment.

Eventually, Mr. Lyons directs us to pair up for a photography assignment centered on the play of light and shadow, and as various desks slide together, metal legs scuffing against tile, students instinctively form pairs. A familiar sense of isolation settles over me. Everyone gravitates toward their chosen partners, while I remain an afterthought—left behind in the shuffle.

I hear the soft drag of a chair beside me and glance up just as Brooks scoots over, his movement unhurried, measured. He stretches his arms overhead before letting them drop with a finality that feels almost reassuring.

“Guess that settles it.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Did I miss the part where I actually agreed?”

“Hmm. No,” he teases. I figured I’d save you the trouble.”

“How considerate of you.”

“Always,” he quips, tilting his head toward the front of the room. “Come on, let’s go pretend we know what we’re doing.”

“Fine.” I roll my eyes, half-serious. “I guess I don’t have a choice.”

Brooks feigns offense. “And here I thought we had something special—you said so yourself at the bonfire.”

My brows shoot up, and I blink several times. “I saidImust be special, not thatwehave something special.”

“Semantics, Rivers.”

With a smirk, he guides me toward a quieter corner, his fingers moving over the camera with expertise. There’s no doubt, just fluid motions as he tweaks the settings, tests the angles and adjusts the focus like it’s second nature. I should be paying attention to what he’s doing, but instead, I’m caught up in the way he makes something technical look so effortless.

“Have you done this before?” I ask. “You don’t really seem like the artsy type.”

He exhales a short, amused breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well,” I say, fumbling for the right words, “you play football with my brother, so…”

“So you think I’m just a dumb hot jock?” he teases, giving me a quizzical smile as he looks down at me. Then, as if to drive to the point home, he winks.

“No! That’s not what I meant.”

“Hey, I’ll take what I can get, Rivers,” he says, smirking, and I swear my ears burn red.

Back home, I’d barely tolerated my brother’s teammates. They were loud, obnoxious, and mostly interested in showing off. The idea that one of them could be genuinely talented with a camera is surprising, to say the least.

“Relax, Dylan.” He leans in just enough to bump me, making sure I don’t take it too seriously. “I’m just messing with you. I took a photography class last year. Turns out, I’m decent at it.”

“Well, I’m impressed,” I say, acutely aware of the brief brush of his shoulder against mine.

“Good. So, you’ll be my subject today?”

“Your—” I narrow my eyes and wonder if this is some sort of test. “Subject?”

“Unless you have better plans?” he challenges, gesturing toward the room as if it holds endless possibilities.

“Nope, this was my dream,” I deadpan, crossing my arms.

“You’ll survive.” His words land with perfect timing, and I bite back a smile, but it’s a losing battle.

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