The Art of Being Alone (Together)

13 | Thinking About It

I was right about one thing: Lizzie was so grateful for the alone time with Zack. Well, "alone time" surrounded by the twenty other campers who were learning origami with them. She talked my ear off about it the minute we were alone, gushing about how they finally had a real conversation that lasted more than thirty seconds and wasn't about the prank war.

It almost makes me feel bad that I don't ditch them when we go canoeing the next day after our workshops. The two of them sit across from me, which is great since it not only means they'll be brushing shoulders the whole time, but that I'm in the perfect position for getting some candid shots of the two of them.

After Ethan's picture turned out so great yesterday, I figured I may as well try my hand at some more portraits. And over the next hour, I'm really glad I listened to his advice-- it feels really good to finally be having fun with photography again. 

Like he said, I'm a lot easier on myself since it's an area I'm unfamiliar with, and I'm enjoying finding my way around the subject of people as opposed to nature. It's tricky, especially since I like candid pictures-- it isn't the easiest thing to catch people off guard when you're raising a big camera in their direction. Lizzie and Zack catch me in the act more than a few times, and my SD card is littered with a mix of genuine candids and pictures of them posing goofily at the last second. 

I'm looking through them the next day after breakfast while I'm waiting outside of the painting building, trying to distract myself from the nerves I have about meeting with Ethan. I scroll through them, amused at how often I managed to catch Zack sneaking glances at Lizzie. If I show her the evidence, maybe she'll finally realize he's head over heels for her.

As I contemplate the morality of exposing Zack's unadmitted crush, Ethan walks over from the mess hall with a smile on his face. I return it, watching as he brushes flour from his jeans, no doubt from the pancakes served this morning-- which were delicious, by the way.

"Morning," he greets, pointing to my camera. "Any luck?"

"Your advice was... pretty awesome," I say, immediately wanting to facepalm at the word choice. Pretty awesome? How eloquent. I need to start taking pointers from Zack-- yesterday at lunch, he dreamily described Lizzie's outfit as "strikingly psychedelic." Leave it to the poet to come up with such a bold compliment-- of course, he said it to me when Lizzie got up to throw away her trash, but his shyness doesn't take away from the word choice.

If Ethan minds my bumbling, he doesn't show it. He grins, face lighting up. "Really? It helped?"

I nod. "Portraits are a lot of fun-- I should've given 'em a chance a long time ago."

"And now, you'll know what it's like to be the subject of a portrait," he says, opening the door of the building and motioning for me to go in first. "Might give you some helpful insight."

We head inside and he leads me over to one of the large tables, which are surrounded by wooden stools. I sort of just stand there for a minute while Ethan wheels an easel over, disappears into a closet for a few seconds, and comes back out with a canvas that's larger than I anticipated. He looks over as he's locking it in place on the easel.

"You don't look very excited," he says with the hint of a laugh.

"It's not that! I just... " I sit on one of the stools, trying not to look so tense. "I've never had anyone paint me before. I don't really know what I'm supposed to do."

"All you have to do is sit. I'm the one who should be nervous-- I have to worry you might not like it."

I remove my camera from around my neck and set it on the table beside me, watching as he sets everything up. He's somewhat of a scattered worker, humming a song to himself and going back and forth around the room to gather the supplies he needs.