“I’m not doing this.”

Lance held his head in dismay as he leaned over the handrail of the restaurant’s dock. The shadows cast by the roof were a shield of protection from the sun’s fierce rays as he scanned the script for what might as well have been the hundredth time. He was resolute in his refusal, and I don’t blame him. Acting out this kind of script given its contents and his partner must have been a daunting task considering everything that had happened between them in the past two weeks. He had been pouting like a child who refused to eat the plate of greens laying at his table.

“You say that, but you got all dressed up for the part,” Naomi said.

Sure enough, he was dressed up in the suit jacket I had him bring over from his wardrobe. If he didn’t own one, we would’ve had to have gone out and scoured for a mock jacket somewhere.

“Oh, shut up already. Why are you so gung-ho about this ridiculous script?”

“Maybe because I’ll finally get you to be remorseful for once.” Naomi grinned. She was wearing a gorgeous wedding dress that Jaz had picked out for her. Where had she gotten it? I could only assume that it was a rental, and that she’d asked Naomi for her measurements beforehand. Either way, it was far too gorgeous for something haphazardly put together in a day.

“No way. Hell no. I’m not doing it. Why’d you write this shit, Trist? I thought we were friends.”

“It’s a good script,” Naomi said. “The only issue is that it says ‘fishes’ at this part. The plural of fish is just fish, Tristan.”

“What? Is that true?” Lance asked.

“Uh, yeah. Everyone knows that.”

“I thought fishes was fine,” I said. “Like that one line from The Godfather. ‘Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes.’”

“Aren’t they supposed to be Italian or something? That just means it’s definitely wrong,” Lance said.

“Maybe both work? English is such a hard language…” Naomi scratched her head. “Either way, the script is great. You did a good job, Trist!”

“Uh, yeah thanks. But… I didn’t write it.”

They both turned towards me in sync as if I’d said something strange.

“Okay, I got permission!” Jazmine said, carrying a wineglass of grape juice in each hand as she returned from the interior of the restaurant. Her expression of joy morphed into one of confusion when she noticed the two of them staring my way. “Wait, what’s wrong? Did Tristan tell a funny joke again?”

“He said he didn’t write the script,” Lance said.

“Hah! Classic Tristan, that’s a good one.” She laughed, then glanced at our faces until she realized that no one else was laughing with her. “Wait, what do you mean he didn’t write it? He sent it to me himself.”

Lance shrugged. “He said he didn’t write it.”

“Tristan?” Now she was staring at me.

“I never said I wrote it,” I said.

“Wait, who wrote it then? Did you hire someone?” Naomi asked.

“No, Gwen offered to write it.”

“Gwen wrote this?!” Naomi looked down at the script again, inspecting it more intently. “Wooooow, that’s cool! She can really write, huh?”

Lance was quiet. It seemed like something was turning in his head, but for the first time, he was too speechless to let everyone else know about it. He merely ran his eyes over the words once again.

“Well, it doesn’t matter who did or didn’t write it,” Jaz said. “It’s a good script, so we’re going to shoot it. Right, Lance?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“What? You should be jumping for joy. You get a romantic scene like this with Naomi when she’s all dolled-up like this.”

“Yeah,” Naomi said. “You should be groveling, even.”

“The two of you teaming up is like, the worst thing ever.”

Jaz smiled. “Okay, what now director?”

“Huh, oh.” I glanced at the three of them as all their eyes fell on me, hungry for instruction. Except for Lance, who appeared to just want to get it over with. “Okay uh, we’re going to get in position now. Naomi, you’re going to be leaning over the handrail already with your drink. Lance is going to walk into the scene after we’ve started filming like the script says. Jaz, I want the camera set up to my right. Yeah, right here.”

“Gotcha,” she said. “Come take the grape juice, guys.”

Following their instructions, they both took a glass from Jaz and made their way to the designated spots as Jaz herself turned to set the tripod up off to the side. For some reason, it felt like my job was the least important one here. They were doing all the work here. Even the absent Gwen who wasn’t even in the club did an entire script. All I had to my name was the silly clapper I made and a bunch of indecisive instructions.

“Aw man, fuck this.”

Well, there was one director-like thing for me to do. As Lance scratched his head in frustration, it was up to me to make sure that he could give a performance that would be worthy of all the hard work that everyone else was going to put in.

“Hey, Lance,” I said.

“Don’t ‘hey Lance’ me. You did this to me. You could’ve just made a cool action movie script. I could be James Bond or John Wick or some shit right now. Instead, I’m doing… this.”

“And uh, what’s wrong with this?”

“What do you mean what’s wrong? It’s fucking embarrassing. Hello? Listen to this line: ‘You’re still as young and beautiful as the sunflowers in that meadow.’”

“What’s wrong with it? Gwen’s the one who wrote it, that means girls love stuff like that.”

“Sure, but why should I say something like this to Naomi while we’re still fighting?”

“You wouldn’t still be fighting if you just told her why you broke up in the first place.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but he let out a sigh of resignation. I could tell that it was eating him apart to be stuck in this situation, but I couldn’t very well just stop the filming, could I? The showing was tomorrow, and we needed something to edit tonight.

“You know,” I said. “Naomi told Gwen and Lawrence about the first time you two met.”

“The first time we met?”

“Yeah, when you and I were talking about mutes.”

“Oh, right. Man, that brings me back.” He leaned against the handrail.

“She still loves you, even now. Even if she’s talking to Lawrence or whatever, it’s obvious to anyone who looks at her. All she wants is an excuse, anything at all, to run back to your side.”

“And you’re saying I can’t even find the strength to give her that excuse?”

“Why is that? Are you still scared? Of living like your parents.”

“I don’t know, maybe…” He sighed. “It just feels like we’ve been stuck in limbo like this for so long, that it’d be awkward to just take her out of it suddenly.” He took a sip of the grape juice. “I’ve wasted too much time.”

This wasn’t the Lance I wanted to see. Watching him hurt in his own uncertainty wasn’t like him at all. I just wanted things to go back to the way they were before. I didn’t like the heartache and the pain they were suffering through. It all seemed like nothing to me. Just tell her the truth and get back together again. But it wasn’t so simple for him, was it? Life isn’t like a movie, and people aren’t characters that conveniently say the right things. There are convoluted feelings involved, and stuff gets lost in communication. Words can only convey so much about what a person is feeling.

“We’re losers, Tristan. Born in the richest country in the world, into stable households with both parents, and access to every piece of information we could ever want with the microcomputers in our pockets. And yet all we do is fuck around and play video games in our free time.”

“You’re too hard on yourself. Sometimes you also get high while playing video games.”

“And my parents love lighting scented candles when I do it.” He laughed. “It’s just hard to escape the fact that my life is just as boring and easy as theirs is. I’m on autopilot every day and things always turn out fine. This thing with Naomi, this is the first time I’ve ever had a real problem. The biggest conflict in my life isn’t being conscripted to fight in some foreign country. I don’t have some great injustice to battle and defeat. No great childhood trauma to overcome. All I have is this stupid feeling. This feeling that this life of mine will be this pointless and boring forever.”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The breeze brushed past his bangs and caused them to glide across his forehead. The solemn look that was so unlike him hadn’t even met my eyes. He was a defeated warrior staring down in shame. The futility of life was getting down on him as well in his own way. We’re pretty similar, aren’t we? Perhaps that’s why we never drifted away from one another.

“Look over there.” My words led him to turn to face Naomi. The gorgeous white dress she was wearing as she leaned back against the rails, hair flowing down for once instead of tied into a ponytail, chatting with Jaz who was still setting the camera up. “If you really think a life with her is going to be boring, if you let her get away without fighting, then you have no idea what boring or fun really are.”

“Neither do you. You’re dating boring-ass Zoey.”

“I’d trade a hundred Zoeys for someone like Naomi.”

“Wait, huh? Where’d that come from?”

“Nowhere, why?”

“Nowhere? Don’t nowhere me, do you like Naomi or something?”

“No, that’s not what I… actually, you know what? Yeah, I like her. So fix it. Do this scene and make up with her or forget Lawrence, I’ll take her from you myself.”

“What the hell, man? What kind of backstabbing shit is that? I thought we were friends.”

“We are,” I said. “So don’t make a backstabber out of me.”

I didn’t know if I meant it or not. I would feel awful doing something like that to Lance. But what’s important was that he felt motivated to do this. A fire like that should help him take the steps forward. Maybe the pressure would be too much. Maybe he’d self-destruct because of my ‘help’. But he needed a push, and that was the only way I could think of helping.

“Okay, we’re all set up over here!” Jaz said.

I patted him on the back.

“Fix it.”

He didn’t respond. But it didn’t matter. Things were going to be resolved, I knew it. Even if I don’t make a move on her myself, Lawrence would definitely keep trying to steal her away. And only God knows if she’d be able to withstand him for long. I didn’t know if Lance truly understood this. He probably thought that Naomi would be his forever. That’s why my threat was necessary. He needed another excuse to make himself uncomfortable in order to fight for her.

“Hey, uh... can we talk for a sec?” Lance suddenly asked after approaching Naomi.

“What, now? Can’t it wait?” Jaz asked.

“No, it can’t. I’m not doing this scene unless we talk.”

Naomi’s eyes went wide, and Jaz only looked at him with a curious gaze, before resigning with a shrug.

“Well, you heard ‘im,” Jaz said, removing the camera from the tripod and placing the strap over her shoulders. “Come on Tristy. Let’s go outside until they’re done.”

“What? Do I have to?”

I thought I’d have someone on my side, but all three of them just stared my way as if my presence was nothing but an intrusion. I know I was the one who suggested that they make up, but I thought I’d be able to watch over them. As it turns out, I’m still just as much of a third wheel as I was before.

“Whatever, let’s go look at the water again.”

There was no point in fighting it. I sighed and accompanied the girl before me until we were once again at the steps of the restaurant’s docks.

“Sounds like you talked him into getting serious,” Jaz said, taking her shoes off.

“Yeah.”

I didn’t know how this would turn out, but I hoped that things would wrap up right then and there. The two of them were talking near the sea on the rails of the dock with serious looks on their face.

“So,” Jaz said with a grin. “You’re Mr. Popular now or what?”

“Huh?”

“Dating Zoey, close friends with Gwen and Naomi.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m close with Gwen…”

“No?” she asked, stepping into the shallow end of the lake. “You were just invited to her birthday, and she also wrote the script for your movie. Acquaintances then?”

“No.”

She turned to face me, her feet making a swishing sound in the water as she showed me a concerned look. “Is she the girl who didn’t answer your call the other day?”

I didn’t respond. How foolish. Why would I deny all her other questions if I wasn’t willing to deny the truth?

“Did something happen between the two of you?”

“I… don’t really want to talk about it.”

She peered my way, as if wondering if she really should keep asking about it.

“Did… Zoey do something again?”

“Listen…”

“Tristan, I just want to know if-“

“What, if I’m going to be another Tanner?” My outburst caused her to hold her breath. “That’s why you stuck with me, isn’t it? Back when Ben was looking for me. You regretted not doing anything to protect him from Zoey, and now you’re stuck looking out for me because of your guilt from back then.”

I hated that I was starting to believe Zoey. Were all of these people really only interested in me because of my association with her? No matter how I looked at it, that seemed to be the only conclusion that made any sense. If so, then what was the point?

“You don’t actually care for me, do you Jaz?”

“Tristy, I-“

“No, I’m sorry.” I looked down at my shoes. “ I shouldn’t be lashing out at you like this. I’m just… kind of disappointed. I thought you actually might have liked me. I thought that you thought I was cool or funny or whatever.”

“You are.”

“How?”

“Anyone who dedicates themselves to their love like you do is cool in my book.”

“Love, right.” I grinned sardonically, then took a seat on the stony shore. “I don’t think I have any love for Zoey anymore. I honestly don’t even think I ever had any love for her.”

“I see.” She walked over towards me then sat next to me. “For what it’s worth, I really did think you would be the one to change her.”

“Me?”

It was strange. Laura also said that I might be able to change her yesterday. And here was Jazmine, reaffirming it without any outside force steering her towards that conclusion.

“Yes, you. Tanner and Benjamin, they’re like two sides of the same coin. They’re both obsessive people to a fault. Their obsession made it so they couldn’t see who the girl in front of them really was. They just kept following her blindly until she ruined them by leading them by their obsession straight into a brick wall. But you, as far as I knew, you only knew her for a week. And in just that week, you’d already learned more about that dark part of her than any of them ever even caught a whiff of. The part of her that doesn’t let herself trust anyone. That views other people as lesser beings that you need leverage over in order to have something even remotely resembling a relationship. I think that, if someone were going to lead her down the right path, it would have been you. So that day, I encouraged you to follow your feelings. I don’t think you’re Tanner, and I don’t think you need my protection. But I do want to watch over you, and her. The girl who showed me how amazing photography can be, and the boy who could show her how amazing it is to be able to trust in others.”

“I don’t think psychos like her can be saved from themselves.”

“I don’t know if she’s a psycho. There might be something resembling a conscience in there, I can feel it. It’s just buried underneath the muck somewhere.”

“That must be a lot of muck.”

“Better start shoveling then, Tristy.”

I sighed. “So, is it just because she’s aromantic then?”

At my words, Jaz blinked. “She’s what, now?”

“Aromantic. She told me she was on Friday. How she can’t experience love or anything like that.”

For some reason, Jaz’s gaze fell to the ground as confusion dominated her expression.

“Tristy, that’s not…”

“Jaz?”

She stopped speaking for a moment, appearing to process what I’d said to her. And eventually, her confused expression morphed into a resigned smile.

“So Tanner told her, then…”

I didn’t understand what was going on.

“Jaz, what’s wrong?”

“She’s not aromantic, Tristy.”

“What? But she said-“

A tear rolled down her face, and she laughed.

“I guess it’s my fault, huh? I’m the one who stayed in the photography club despite knowing who she was all this time. I was the one playing with fire because I loved photography so much.”

“I don’t understand, but she said she was…”

“If I… If I had to guess, it’s because she’s trying to isolate you from me. If she’s already isolated you from Gwen like I suspect, then I must be next. I don’t know what the goal is, but she’s trying to separate you from me and everyone else. That’s all this is. She doesn’t want you to trust me anymore.”

My head was spinning. I hadn’t ever seen this type of behavior in Jaz before. What was she thinking about that caused her so much distress?

“Why would that… isolate us?” I asked.

“Because she wants you to associate her behavior with being aromantic, and because… I’m aro.”

My mind had gone blank. Jaz was? This entire time, it wasn’t Zoey who was aromantic, but Jaz?

“I told Tanner as much when I rejected him because I felt bad about it, but… I didn’t think he’d…”

Her voice trailed off, and I gulped anxiously. “Then… you can’t love either?”

“I can, Tristy. That’s the problem. We can love others. Just not romantically. God, she really wanted to drag me down with her, huh?” She let out a dismayed laugh. “Listen, okay? There’s lots of different flavors of love. It’s like ice cream. I like all of them, but romantic love just isn’t a flavor that does anything for me. Zoey is more like… she can’t love anyone except herself. I don’t know if it’s because she’s scared or because she’s incapable, but it’s completely different.”

I grit my teeth. “Isn’t it possible that she just confused herself into thinking that she was? You don’t know if Tanner told her.”

Jaz shook her head. “Zoey is too intelligent for something like that, Tristy. You should know that.”

She was right. Every action the girl named Zoey Brahm took was calculated and deliberate. Jaz must have been right. In the first place, Laura seemed apprehensive when I mentioned this to her too, so maybe they were both right about it.

“Jaz, I’m sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for?” she asked, resting her head on her knees. “I explained it as best as I could, it’s not like I can help it if you see me differently now.”

“I don’t,” I said.

“Liar.”

“It’s true, I don’t care about stuff like that. Lance might make a few jokes about it if he found out, but he won’t either.

“If he makes a joke about it then I’ll toss him into traffic.”

I found myself chuckling, and made a note to never tell Lance about this side of Jaz.

“I can’t see you differently anyhow. You made me feel at home when I joined the photography club. And you were there for me back when Ben was on my back. You’re a good person, Jaz. I’m not going to compare you to Zoey.”

“But what if I’m just doing it to manipulate you later? That’s something Zoey would do, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think you are,” I said.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, I guess it just feels like you wear your heart on your sleeves.”

Perhaps I was being naïve, but my gut told me that Jaz wasn’t like Zoey. The only time she’d ever asked me for something since we met was when she was trying her best to save the club that she loved. The club that meant so much to her that she’d risk being close with someone as terrible as Zoey Brahm just to continue experiencing it.

“By the way, um, if you don’t mind me asking…”

“What?” Jaz asked, still holding her head down on her knees.

“Uhm, I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but, what’s so amazing about photography that it’s convinced you to stay close to that monster?”

After a few moments of silence, before I could get a proper response, the sound of cheers came from the restaurant behind us. I turned to find a sight I hadn’t ever seen, nor did I ever expect to see. The white of her dress was flowing to the tune of a sudden gust of wind. The black of his suit enveloped and contrasted with the pure white as Lance Harly and Naomi Fraise, arms wrapped around one another, shared a kiss like lovers at the climax of a movie.

It happened.

It really happened.

I turned towards Jazmine, who had already taken a picture of the scene. When she pulled the camera down, she wiped a tear from her eye and smiled.

“Thank you, Tristy. I’ll cherish everything you said to me today.”

I found myself smiling back her way. Somehow, she had answered my question perfectly without saying a word. The ability to capture the moments that mattered the most. To Jazmine Lee, that was what the art of photography was all about. She was someone who enjoyed the good times, and always tried to see the good in others, and this was merely her way of preserving and cherishing it. I was glad to have shared an intimate moment with her today.

But the tears she’d shed had unfortunately filled my heart with more malice and had squashed my own ability to see the good in others. That a girl like Zoey Brahm was allowed to walk around with impunity despite the wreckage she left behind was a crime on its own. It appeared that my anger at that girl was slowly becoming more like Gwen’s with every passing day.