"Did you just take a picture of me?"
That's the first time they meet. It's September and still warm enough for outdoor parties. She's holding her instant camera—an old-school one, none of that new hipster crap—and biting her lip to hide a guilty smile. He's sitting across from her on a bean bag, a bottle of some fancy, bio version of Coke in his hand. She can't see properly because of the hair falling across his forehead, but she'd wager his eyebrows are raised in indignation.
"Sorry," she says out of habit, even though she really isn't sorry at all. "I would've asked, but I didn't want to ruin the photo." Candids are the only way to get the truth out of a person.
"Can I at least see it?" he asks, leaning over the table between them. It's littered with red solo cups and empty beer bottles. Even a discarded not-quite-finished joint.
She checks the photo to see if it's developed enough before wordlessly handing it to him. She inevitably cringes when he gets his fingerprints all over it, but she's sort of nervous to hear what he thinks, too. If he says it's shit, she'll just throw his own sorry excuse for a beverage at his face.
He studies the Polaroid for a moment. It's slightly blurry and you can't really tell it's him in the shot unless you're very familiar with the mop of dark curls on top of his head. And still, it could be any other twenty-something boy with a non-descript face at a college party. He is aware there's nothing remarkable about his face—particularly when it's mostly hidden behind a bottle of soda as he takes a sip—but the fairy lights hanging all around the rooftop give the picture an almost a magical vibe. He almost looks magical.
The girl must have seen the unchecked wonder in his face, because when he gives it back, she's full-on smirking.
"My name is Tess," she says a little haughtily, almost like that, too, is something to be proud of. She's got a bit of an accent. Australian, maybe? He's never been good at placing accents. But she definitely doesn't sound like a pure-breed New Yorker.
"Like Tess of the d'Ubervilles?" he says, taking a finishing sip of his drink.
She looks impressed. "Are you an English major?"
"No, I'm Jason."
He likes that he made her laugh.
