I nod, swallowing loudly. “Yeah. It’s kind of like...the world is super shitty sometimes, right? It feels like there’s no winning, no matter what we do. But for me, movies are the one ray of light in the darkness. They give me hope for something bigger and better and brighter.”

“Light,” Emmitt echoes, and there’s something strange in his gaze.

I offer him a helpless smile. “Is that what photography is for you? The light?”

He shrugs, glancing at the New York City skyline. “More or less. Sometimes, taking photos is the only time I feel like myself. It’s the only time I don’t have to hide.” He offers me a sidelong grin. “No putting on a show.”

Tension builds in my gut for no reason I can fathom. “Only the truth.”

“Exactly. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Just the world as it is, real and honest.” Then he sighs. “I’ve been—acting out, I guess, for lack of a better term, in interviews and the like. My publicist wants to strangle me for my reputation as a prick, but...” He tugs his earrings, something I’m beginning to recognize as a nervous habit. “I don’t know how else to tell Mum about all of this.”

“Has your mom seen your work? Maybe you could try explaining your dreams to her through your photographs.” And hope it doesn’t go as badly as it did with my parents.

Emmitt shakes his head. “Mum will see it as a distraction. That’s why I can’t tell her about this contest. She has this single-minded focus that makes me want to rip my hair out. She always says anything else outside of our goals is a disruption, and that anyone who serves as a block in our vision is someone we didn’t want by our side in the first place.” His expression is sour. “I don’t want to be one of the people in her way.”

I stare at him hopelessly, wishing there was an easy answer. But I don’t have one. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m really, really sorry.”

He offers me a grim smile. “If I win this contest, then maybe I’ll finally be able to prove my silly little hobby has its worth. That’s what I’m hoping anyway.”

“I hope you win,” I say and I mean it. This common link between us is growing stronger, a fraying thread lengthening into a solid rope that ties me to him in a way I can’t deny. And maybe I don’t want to, not anymore, not when he understands, not when he sees more than I ever expected him to.

We’re the same, he and I. Both chasing after our dreams, despite what it might cost us.

“No, love.” Emmitt’s gaze is steady. “I hope we win.”

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