Touch me Not

8. awkward moments

I slouched against the wall, hearing Gabriel's boots clank against the metal on his way down. Farther and farther away he went, leaving me behind just as I had asked. An urge to run after him made my body twitch. I couldn't afford to lose him, and yet, I couldn't afford to pass up on this opportunity with Cameron, either.

Three steady breaths later, I dragged the door open and went inside. The light was far brighter than in the stairwell, and it helped with the transition.

Smile, I told myself, trying my best to forget Gabriel's agitation. We would deal with that later.

"There you are," Cameron said, poking his head out from one of the other rooms. "Come here, I want to show you something."

Bad atmosphere dispelled, I walked across the painted cement floor to his side. He was leaning over a desk, sorting through black and white photographs. "Why don't you check these out? Tell me what you think of the exposure and positioning of objects." He handed me a bunch and continued to sort through the rest.

Careful not to leave too many fingerprints, I went through them and thought about his words. Exposure. Object positioning. The photos were almost identical, or at least the scene was. A few items moved around at the scene, but many remained in place.

"Is this for a class of yours or something?" I asked, thinking it was an odd arrangement of various trinkets that had nothing to do with each other. I could see no other purpose for those pictures.

"It's a batch I asked the last class to take. They could arrange the objects as they liked. They got three attempts to snap the perfect picture."

It felt odd to grade someone else's efforts, but perhaps this was some sort of test. Going through the photos again, I sorted them into piles—one with the good ones, one with the crappy exposure, one with odd object placement, and one where the terrible ones went. I slowly came to the conclusion that I never wanted to be a teacher. Grading wasn't my thing—it made me feel uncomfortable.

"You done?" Cameron asked.

"I think so." My stomach felt queasy, but I steeled myself for his judgment.

Cameron snatched one of the piles and let out a few hums. Those were the 'good' ones, so I hoped I wasn't too far off the mark.

"Did you peek at the backside of these?"

I shook my head, too nervous to actually say anything.

He placed the photos back on the table and took the next one batch.

"Didn't like the exposure in those," I said, relieved that I didn't stutter. It was a small comfort, but an important one.

"You're right. These suck." He shrugged and threw them back onto the table.

I almost laughed. Cameron seemed to know exactly how to break a stale silence with a few pointed words filled with hidden humor. He was a nice guy, I had to admit. For a teacher, that is.

His gripped the third pile. After looking at the first photo, he smiled. "Let me guess, you didn't like the arrangement in these."

Pride, such a weird emotion—one I'd never come to terms with. "Yeah," I replied, hoping I could keep the satisfaction away from my voice.

"You've got a good eye."

Cue blush. My cheeks heated and my gaze shot to the floor. This was embarrassing, partly because his words meant a great deal. I felt like a school boy. Wrong, I was a school boy.

"Thank you."

"No need to thank me, it's the truth. What's in this last pile?"

"The ones I didn't like at all." I bit my lip. This was definitely awkward. At least I didn't know the people who took those photographs—that would be even worse.