The Originals

“You’re the chosen dork,” I say, shaking my head. I realize we’re walking toward a wall of rocks; I hope he doesn’t think I’m climbing over it.

“Hey, Lizzie?” I look at his face. “Jokes aside, I’m glad you told me. As much as I might need time to process, I’m glad I know. I’m glad you trust me enough to let me in.”

“I’m glad, too,” I say just as we stop in front of the rocks. I furrow my brow at him.

“Now I need you to trust me again.”

“Oh, really?” I ask, playfulness in my tone. It feels nice. He points to an opening between two massive boulders.

“You want me to go in there?”

He nods. “It’s amazing; you’ll see.”

“What if there are wild animals hiding in the darkness?”

“There aren’t,” he says, grinning.

“Are you sure?” I take a step closer and try to peer inside, but all I can see is blackness.

“I’m sure. It’s just a passage. My dad used to bring me here all the time when I was a kid, back before my parents split. I come back sometimes to veg out or take pictures or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” I tease, a touch jealous. “Been here a lot, have you?” I take another step closer to the rocks.

“I’ve never brought another girl here, if that’s what you mean.”

Sean laughs, but it reassures me just the same; when he leads me into what looks like a cave, I feel reasonably safe. Then when we wind through and pop out the other side, I feel like I’ve just won the emotional lottery. The cove before me is a three-walled room with an open window to the ocean: the most beautiful escape I could ever imagine.

“It’s our own personal beach,” I murmur, looking out toward the water.

“Mm-hmm,” Sean says, taking out his camera and setting the bag in the sand. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him focusing on my profile. He’s standing next to and a little behind me, so I know that the background of the photo is water crashing on the far wall of rocks. I don’t hear the shutter snap, because the waves are too loud, but I hear what Sean says next.

“I’m glad to know you aren’t crazy.” I flip in his direction; he’s smirking at me.

“What are you talking about?”

He shrugs, snaps another photo of my now-surprised-slash-irritated expression, then answers. “I thought you might’ve had split personalities or something,” he says. “Because Ella and you are so…”

“Different,” I say. We quietly take each other in for a few seconds.

“You were wrong earlier,” he says.

“Oh, yeah? About what?”

“About not being unique. I mean, I know you look like Ella and Betsey. But I don’t see the three of you the same way. You’re… you.”

The waves crash; I shiver in the ocean breeze. Neither of us speaks for a few more moments.

“Can I take some pictures of you?” Sean asks sweetly. I smile and nod, happy to be moving on from the day’s heavy discussion to do something light.

We spend the next two hours snapping shot after shot. I climb onto a low rock and he takes a series of pictures of me standing there like a warrior. I sit on a log, legs outstretched, and Sean snaps a few close-ups of my face. I take off my shoes and consider wading into the water until I realize it’s too chilly. He takes a few photos of my toes before I put my shoes back on. I drop into the sand and laugh as Sean click, click, clicks from every angle, eventually having to use a flash when the fall day grows dark.

I feel silly at first, but Sean’s encouraging words put me at ease. I’ve never had an interest in modeling—or the size-zero frame that goes with it—but with Sean peering out from behind the camera, it feels much more intimate than just taking pretty pictures.

It feels more like making out.

I roll to my side in the sand, head propped on my hand. Sean’s on his stomach next to me, camera pointed at my face.