Page 59 of Hawaii Can Suck It

Oof.

“Oh! And my personal favorite—the underwater shark cage stunt. I got scuba certified in two days, learned how to handle an underwater camera rig while activelynotbecoming shark bait... and you told me my cinematography ‘sucked.’”

Fuuuuuuck.

I deserve to be punched in the dick… repeatedly. By her.

“The closest thing to a compliment from you was before your wedding, when you mentioned my camera angle was ‘alright.’ Which, I’m pathetic enough to admit, felt good. I almost called my mom.”

“Cam, I am so—”

“It’s fine.” She cuts me off with a defeated wave. “And I think maybe you’re right. I’m not meant to be on camera. And maybe my work is just… I don’t know, average.”

The shame hits like a tsunami. All this time, I’ve been using criticism as a shield, trying to maintain professional distance because I couldn’t handle being attracted to her. And what did I accomplish? I made this talented, vibrant woman—this woman who took every insane risk to make me look good—doubt herself.

When it comes to Camila Morales, I can’t stop fucking up.

“I’m sorry.” The words feel pathetically inadequate. “I am a prickwad douchecanoe.”

“Groundbreaking realization… Wait, where did you hear that phrase?”

“I’ve seen it pop up on your phone a couple times. I assumed it was about me.”

“My friends and I also call you assbag prettyboy fuckhole.”

“Also deserved.”

That earns me a slight smile. The air feels a little lighter after a few moments of silence.

“I have no right to ask, but I’m curious—why are you so confident holding the camera, but not when it’s pointed at you?”

She shrugs, digging her toes into the wet sand. “Not sure.”

“Okay, then what makes you worried when the cameraison you?”

Cam goes quiet for so long, I almost think she’s not going to answer. But then…

“People will judge me. Decide that I don’t really have anything interesting to say.” She inhales, as if forcing herself to continue talking. “That I’m basic. Or maybe talentless and stupid. And… being on your channel, millions of people will catch on.”

The way she says it—so raw, so certain—knocks the breath right out of my lungs.

I turn to her, but she won’t meet my eyes. Instead, she keeps her gaze fixed on the stars.

“Nothing about you is basic. Not one fucking thing.”

Cam is the most talented person I’ve ever met, and the fact that she doesn’t see that? That she thinks people will look at her and find her lacking?

It makes me want to wreck shit.

I want to tear apart every insecurity that’s ever been planted in her mind by me and burn them to the ground.

I move into her eyeline so she’s forced to see me. “And who cares what people think? Blaze is dumb as a rock, and he doesn’t give two shits. He’s the happiest person I know.”

A reluctant smile tugs at her lips. “I… can’t actually argue with that.”

“The way you capture the world through your lens—it’s not only skill, it’s art. Passion you can see in every frame. I should have told you this sooner, but you’re the heart of the channel. Without you, it wouldn’t exist. Honestly, I would’ve quit.”

“Really, Reece. I don’t need you to be nice for my feelings. I’m used to it.”

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