Chapter 2

Noah and I met in our high school photography club.

Our first project together was covering the school track meet. He was in front of the camera; I was behind it. At the four-hundred-meter finish line, he jogged over and hung his medal around my neck, still catching his breath. "So? How'd I do, Bennett?"

I raised my camera and captured his face lit by the sun. The video unexpectedly went viral, racking up hundreds of thousands of views. After that, we filmed cafeteria reviews, late-night study vlogs, and a graduation countdown series. The account grew from a few hundred followers to more than a hundred thousand, and we went from partners to a couple.

Senior year, I'd already been accepted to North Ridge Film Academy's Documentary Film program with a generous scholarship. My teachers all urged me to go, saying the equipment, mentors, and hands-on opportunities there were the best fit for me.

But Noah held me tight and wouldn't let go. "Four years two states apart is too long. Erin, let's go to Bay State University together. They have a School of Communications too, and I'll keep filming with you. The fourteen-day outdoor orientation is perfect for our series. We'll make the account even bigger."

I turned down North Ridge and chose to enroll at the same university as him. My father didn't speak to me for an entire week, but I thought it was worth it, because Noah had promised so earnestly that he'd be there with me.

On the first day of orientation, he really did cover every corner of the training grounds with me. We tested camera angles along the grass field, checked audio levels at the activity center, and I spent two evenings finishing the full fourteen-day storyboard.

On the first morning, I woke up at five-thirty and set up the camera early. Five minutes before we were supposed to start rolling, Claire called, saying she'd gone to the morning endurance test on an empty stomach, her vision was going black, and she was about to faint.

Noah didn't even finish his sentence before grabbing a pack of glucose tablets and a water bottle and sprinting to her squad. Shortly after he left, I saw Claire sitting in the shade, nibbling on a piece of chocolate he'd unwrapped for her. She even waved at me from across the crowd. "Erin, sorry, just borrowing Noah for a few minutes."

That day, he missed the very first shot of the series. That night, he brought me a cup of hot cocoa to make up for it. "Claire's had low blood sugar since we were kids. I'm just used to looking after her. I'll be there tomorrow, I promise."

The next day, he really did show up on time. But halfway through filming, Claire texted again, saying her hiking boots had rubbed her heel raw and she was too scared to go to the clinic alone.

Before he left, he handed me the action camera. "Shoot some B-roll first. I'll be back in twenty minutes, tops."

I waited two hours. I found out later he hadn't just taken Claire to get her blister treated. He'd also bought her softer insoles and walked her back to her cabin to rest.

Day three was the cabin and gear inspection. Noah had promised to film a time-lapse of my roommate, Megan Reed, and me making our beds and sorting the first-aid kits. The camera kept running, but the spot across from my bunk where Noah was supposed to be filming stayed empty. He stood outside the girls' cabin on the phone with Claire, teaching her how to fold her blanket and arrange her gear.

Day four, her sunscreen went missing. Day five, she fought with her cabinmate. Day six, she said her group instructor was singling her out.

Every time, Noah promised he'd be right back. Every time, the sun set and I packed up the gear I'd set aside for him by myself.

I had confronted him, too. On the evening of day six, I asked him in the dining hall, "Why does every one of her emergencies happen right when we're about to film?"

Noah dropped his fork with a clatter. "Are you so obsessed with making videos that you've lost your mind? You think she checks your script first and picks a time on purpose?"

Claire stood right behind him, holding her tray. The moment she heard that, her eyes rimmed with red. "Erin, do you think I'm doing this on purpose? I won't call Noah again. Even if I pass out, I won't bother him."

Everyone around us turned to look. Noah stood up immediately and took her tray. "If you feel sick, come find me. Don't put your own health at risk to make a point."

Then he gave me a cold look. "Being sick isn't something she can control. Stop assuming everyone is as calculating as you are."

Calculating.

Because I was filming orientation and the account made money, he treated every hurt I felt as self-serving.

That night, I went back to the cabin alone and saved the sixth empty-frame screenshot to my folder. I renamed the folder, too. It used to be called "Shots to Reshoot." I changed it to "Forget It."