Editing photos at midnight is a whole other level of exhaustion. I’ve got shots of street corners, sunlit leaves, old building facades, and the lake at dawn—the colors almost too stunning to believe.

Sorting through them all is like trying to pick a favorite star in a crowded sky.

And once I’ve chosen the best, I need to edit, touch up, and then arrange them into a sequence that tells a story, the kind of story that sticks with people.

That’s the point of this competition: not just to show off technical skill but to make people feel something, even if it’s just a glimpse of my world.

Thankfully, I’ve had Rue in my corner the whole time.

My older sister has this quiet way of encouraging me, like she believes in me more than I believe in myself.

After her early morning shift at the coffee shop, she’ll sometimes drop by the house with a latte for me and talk about my project, offering little suggestions before she goes on with her business.

She’s got this easy confidence about her that I envy—she knows exactly what she wants: to leave this town and make something of herself somewhere new.

Rue’s been saving up for years, not for college but just to get out, to go anywhere. She talks about moving to a big city, maybe Portland or Seattle.
And I think that want has grown stronger with everything happening between Mom and Dad.

I admire her. She's bold but I love this town: its calm streets, the way the trees glow gold and orange in the fall, how the lake looks in the mornings when mist rises off the water.

Rue dreams big, but I’m not sure I’ll ever feel that urge to leave like she does. Maybe I’m just not wired like that.

When the thought of leaving my comfort zone feels like too much, I focus on what’s ahead.

Like today, when I text Naomi to meet me in the darkroom after school.

My stomach’s all twisted up as I press “send,” but this moment has been sitting with me, growing in intensity ever since the pier.

I’ve got a surprise planned—a little something to show her what’s been on my mind.

I’ve been replaying our moments together in my head all week, thinking about the way she looked at me that night. The way she made me feel.

I think I’m finally ready to say what I couldn’t say before.

The darkroom is empty when I arrive, which gives me a few minutes to breathe and set up.

I’ve printed out a handful of my favorite shots and pinned them to the wall, creating a small gallery just for her.

They’re pictures that I haven’t shown anyone else: the pier at night, her leaning against her motorcycle, the city skyline at dusk. Her at the party, all these little photos making up something big that I hope she will understand.

When the door opens, and Naomi steps inside, her face shifts from curious to shocked as she takes in the photos.

I can see the questions flickering in her eyes, her mouth parting slightly as she processes what’s in front of her. That’s when I know that I’m ready.

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding, and step toward her.

“Yes,” I say, the words spilling out before I can stop them or before she can interject. It's now or never. “I’ll be your girlfriend.”

She stares at me, her expression shifting from shock and it makes my knees weak.

“You’re kidding, Carter?”

I shake my head, the nervous smile still on my face. “Not at all.”

Naomi steps closer, her voice barely a whisper in the dimly lit room.

“Prove it.”

There’s a rush of adrenaline that pushes me forward.

My hands are trembling, but I lift them anyway, wrapping them around the back of her neck.

Her skin is warm beneath my fingertips, and I can feel her breath against my cheek.

The world narrows down to just this moment, just us, standing inches apart.

When our lips meet, it’s like everything else falls away.

I’ve kissed before, but this is different—it makes my head spin.

Her lips are soft, cold, and taste like chocolate.

I hear her throaty moan before she presses closer, and I feel heat spreading from my chest to the tips of my fingers.

I've never felt this wanted before and I can't contemplate the feeling in my chest nor the one in my belly or between my legs.

I lose myself in it.

I’ve read about kisses like this in books, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the way it actually feels.

It’s both exciting and terrifying, like how does one person make you feel like you're both floating and drowning in their touch?

I pull her closer, feeling the slight curve of her waist. Every nerve in my body is awake, humming with a feeling I’ve never experienced before.

When we finally pull back, we’re both breathless, our foreheads resting together as we try to catch our breath.

I open my eyes, nervous but she’s looking at me with this dazed expression, like she’s just as shocked  as I am.

A few weeks ago, I never thought this would have been possible. I don't even remember thinking about Naomi in this way, she was just someone I liked having on my camera and not in my arms or on my lips.

“Wow,” she whispers. “That was…”

I let out a shaky laugh, my cheeks red. “Yeah.”

For a moment, we just stand there, wrapped up in each other, the darkroom. There’s warmth in her gaze, a softness that makes me feel both vulnerable and incredibly alive.

She reaches up, tucking a strand of my wild hair behind my ear.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” she murmurs, her eyes searching mine.

I shake my head.

“You won’t,” I say, hoping she can hear how much of my trust I'm putting in her and in this.

This feels right. Maybe it's really my time to experience something other than being the third wheel I am or worse, the spare girl.