in our hands. I aimed my lens at the treetops, taking pictures of the branches backlit against the sky. I focused on my camera, avoiding eye contact with Rodney. I kept glancing at him and then glancing away, but he just fiddled with his own settings, like he didn't notice.
I couldn't believe so many leaves had dropped when the trees looked as full as ever. Still, leaves rained down around us. One caught in my hair, and Rodney turned his lens on me.
I lowered my camera. "What do you want me to do?" I asked.
Rodney smiled. "Just hold still."
I turned so the sun would fully light my profile, to give him more to work with.
"Check it out," Rodney said, inclining his screen toward me so I could see the shot. "Once we color correct that, it's going to be awesome."
Rodney had tilted the lens, so I looked off balance. The line from my forehead to my nose pointed to the vibrant red leaf.
"We'll have to brighten the leaf," I said. "Make it look larger than life."
Rodney grinned. "Exactly."
I turned my camera back to the sky, and then thought again and flopped down in the leaves.
"Are you getting anything from down there?" Rodney asked.
My heart thudded. "Come down here and see."
Leaves crunched as he lay down beside me and leaned into my shoulder so he could see my screen. I squinted at my camera, letting the exposure alternate bright and dark, depending on whether I focused on the branches or the sky.
"Switch it to manual," Rodney said.
I fiddled with the settings, finally bringing out the crisp, dark branches against the bright sky. I punched the shutter, taking bunches of shots at a time. My skin prickled, like every hair was aware of how near he was.
"Nice," Rodney said. He turned his camera along the ground away from me, focusing on a leaf four feet away. I propped my head on his shoulder so I could see, and he snapped a picture. The foreground and background blurred, but the leaf looked crisp, on the small screen at least.
Rodney turned back toward me, his face only a few inches from mine. I held my breath to keep from hyperventilating.
"That's a keeper," he said, still looking at the camera screen.
The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile, and a tendril of hair fell into his eyes. This was my moment. My heart beat faster. What was wrong with me? Was I laying a trap for him? Sneaking up to surprise him?
No. I was just trying to relax. Then we'd talk. I held my breath, and leaned in until my nose brushed his.
Rodney's face faded to serious, and he lowered the camera. His eyes wavered on my lips. A breeze picked up, scattering a bucketful of paper-thin leaves over the top of us. One caught behind Rodney's ear, and as he reached up to grab it, I kissed him. Leaves crunched under my hair as he leaned into me, rolling over me on the grass. More leaves tumbled over us, and our hips pressed together. Rodney's arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me closer. For a moment we moved in tandem—my mouth against his, his knees wrapped around mine. The world blurred like an out-of-focus picture as we disappeared beneath the shifting pile of leaves.
Then my stomach started to tingle, like a wriggling worm.
I giggled. Our mouths broke apart.
"What?" he asked. "Is my breath bad?"
I laughed harder. Rodney rolled over and watched me struggle to catch my breath. "No," I said finally. "It's nothing."
Rodney turned back to his camera. "Sure," he said. "I totally believe you."
But he didn't push. Rodney never pushed.
I brushed the leaves from my shirt, and they skittered away, becoming part of the traveling detritus.
Rodney held his screen up, pretending to look at it, but I caught him eying me.
"What?" I asked.
He smiled and shook his head. "You still have leaves in your hair."
I shook my head, trying to free them. "Help."
Instead, he held up his camera, snapping a picture of me.
I threw a fistful of leaves at him. "Sure," I said. "Take my picture when I look ridiculous."
Rodney bit his lip.
"What?" I
I couldn't believe so many leaves had dropped when the trees looked as full as ever. Still, leaves rained down around us. One caught in my hair, and Rodney turned his lens on me.
I lowered my camera. "What do you want me to do?" I asked.
Rodney smiled. "Just hold still."
I turned so the sun would fully light my profile, to give him more to work with.
"Check it out," Rodney said, inclining his screen toward me so I could see the shot. "Once we color correct that, it's going to be awesome."
Rodney had tilted the lens, so I looked off balance. The line from my forehead to my nose pointed to the vibrant red leaf.
"We'll have to brighten the leaf," I said. "Make it look larger than life."
Rodney grinned. "Exactly."
I turned my camera back to the sky, and then thought again and flopped down in the leaves.
"Are you getting anything from down there?" Rodney asked.
My heart thudded. "Come down here and see."
Leaves crunched as he lay down beside me and leaned into my shoulder so he could see my screen. I squinted at my camera, letting the exposure alternate bright and dark, depending on whether I focused on the branches or the sky.
"Switch it to manual," Rodney said.
I fiddled with the settings, finally bringing out the crisp, dark branches against the bright sky. I punched the shutter, taking bunches of shots at a time. My skin prickled, like every hair was aware of how near he was.
"Nice," Rodney said. He turned his camera along the ground away from me, focusing on a leaf four feet away. I propped my head on his shoulder so I could see, and he snapped a picture. The foreground and background blurred, but the leaf looked crisp, on the small screen at least.
Rodney turned back toward me, his face only a few inches from mine. I held my breath to keep from hyperventilating.
"That's a keeper," he said, still looking at the camera screen.
The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile, and a tendril of hair fell into his eyes. This was my moment. My heart beat faster. What was wrong with me? Was I laying a trap for him? Sneaking up to surprise him?
No. I was just trying to relax. Then we'd talk. I held my breath, and leaned in until my nose brushed his.
Rodney's face faded to serious, and he lowered the camera. His eyes wavered on my lips. A breeze picked up, scattering a bucketful of paper-thin leaves over the top of us. One caught behind Rodney's ear, and as he reached up to grab it, I kissed him. Leaves crunched under my hair as he leaned into me, rolling over me on the grass. More leaves tumbled over us, and our hips pressed together. Rodney's arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me closer. For a moment we moved in tandem—my mouth against his, his knees wrapped around mine. The world blurred like an out-of-focus picture as we disappeared beneath the shifting pile of leaves.
Then my stomach started to tingle, like a wriggling worm.
I giggled. Our mouths broke apart.
"What?" he asked. "Is my breath bad?"
I laughed harder. Rodney rolled over and watched me struggle to catch my breath. "No," I said finally. "It's nothing."
Rodney turned back to his camera. "Sure," he said. "I totally believe you."
But he didn't push. Rodney never pushed.
I brushed the leaves from my shirt, and they skittered away, becoming part of the traveling detritus.
Rodney held his screen up, pretending to look at it, but I caught him eying me.
"What?" I asked.
He smiled and shook his head. "You still have leaves in your hair."
I shook my head, trying to free them. "Help."
Instead, he held up his camera, snapping a picture of me.
I threw a fistful of leaves at him. "Sure," I said. "Take my picture when I look ridiculous."
Rodney bit his lip.
"What?" I
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