Jojo dropped me off a block from the magazine, and I bent down, glaring at her through the open passenger side window. The exhaust was puffing from the back of her car, and my breath didn’t look much different.

“Really? Is this photography Survivor? It’s like nine degrees.”

Jojo waved at me. “There are some interesting things this way. I want to see how you see it.”

“Fine.”

“See you in a bit,” she said with a shit-eating grin.

My camera was cold against my skin, and I struggled to change the settings with my stiff fingers while Jojo pulled away, heading for the back lot behind our building.

I turned around, seeing an old house, and leaned back to see the antennae. I took a practice shot and checked it, tuned the settings again, and took another. When the display filled with my shot, I smiled. Jojo was right. Automatic mode sucked ass. It was a world of difference knowing how the adjustments would affect the picture.

I walked down the road, away from the MountainEar, getting lost in taking shots and then watching how the quality changed with the different variations of ISO, shutter speed, and exposure time. I took close-ups of leaves with snow, roofs with snow, broken down cars covered in snow, windows panes with snow … There was a lot of snow in my shots, but I made it work.

“Did you get fired?” Tyler, or Taylor, said from across the street. “Zeke and I have a bet going how long you’ll last.” He was squinting one eye against the setting sun, and I turned around, noticing it was peeking behind the mountains. I pulled back my coat sleeve to look at my watch. I’d been outside in freezing temps for two and half hours and had barely noticed.

“Which one are you?” I asked, putting away my camera.

He chuckled. “Tyler. Are you an insurance adjuster or something?” he asked with a smile.

“No. I’m taking pictures for the magazine now.”

“They must be hurting for help,” he teased.

“Fuck off,” I said, turning to walk the three blocks back to my building. Tyler had been standing in front of his station. I hadn’t realized I’d walked that far, either.

“Hey,” he called. I could hear his boots sloshing against the wet street and crunching against the rock salt before he reached me. “I was kidding.”

“So was I,” I said, continuing down the sidewalk.

“So, um.” He shoved his hands in his tan cargo pants. “You and Paige…”

“There is no me and Paige.”

“No? Why? Someone said you and her might be … You like guys, right? I mean … you’d have to after the night we had. I just can’t figure you out.”

“What’s to figure out?”

A grin slowly made its way across his face. “You, Ellie. I’m trying to figure you out.”

“You’re talking to me again.”