Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Cal looked up at the building that housed the Norwegian School of Photography on the edges of Trondheim. It was nothing fancy, just a red-bricked two-story building—three stories in some areas—with a white facade and many rectangular windows. It looked a bit like a prison or a hospital.
The inside, however, was all polished marble floors, bright lighting, and students’ photography on the walls.
Hedda met them at the entrance and, after the appropriate pleasantries, whisked them away on a tour. And although Austin kept insisting he didn’t want the job—bad timing and all that—the way he lit up as they visited empty classrooms, lecture halls, dark rooms, and common areas made a liar out of him.
“This is so cool,” he said as they stood at the bottom of a small lecture hall with five rows of orange seats.
“There’s a photography studio next door,” Hedda said, “with every kind of lighting and backdrop you might need.”
They went there next, Austin nearly salivating over the equipment before they took the stairs up to the second floor.
Cal couldn’t lie, even to himself—despite its questionable exterior, the school was very cool and smartly set up, with classrooms and studios for both the photography and film students. Since it was the summer holiday, the place was empty, yet it nevertheless had a lived-in quality that spoke of the many stories it could tell if only its walls could talk.
Once they’d toured the facility, Hedda led them back downstairs.
“I asked some of the faculty and staff still in the area to drop by,” Hedda said, her sensible shoes silent on the shiny floors. She checked her watch. “They should be here by now, although I hear you already met Professor Haugen.”
“Last night,” Austin replied, practically bouncing as he walked next to her. His head was on a swivel, taking everything in with shiny eyes. “He paid for our dinner.”
“Speaking of,” Cal said from behind them, hands shoved in his jeans pockets, “is that something that happens often here?”
“I can’t say that it does.” Hedda smiled at him over her shoulder, and her chin-length white curls bounced with the movement. “But Professor Haugen’s wife is a fan of Austin’s, so I’m sure that motivated him to reach out. Ah. Here we are.” They’d reached the ground floor and she strode toward the front entrance, where three people lingered, chatting among themselves. One of them was Rolf Haugen, and he spotted them right away.
“Mr. MacIsaac.” He held out a hand. “Good to see you again.”
“It’s just Austin, please.” Austin had been smiling through the whole tour and now it widened as Rolf introduced him to Lesley Robson, a professor from England who specialized in black-and-white photo techniques, and Kristofer Kittelsen, professor of the history of photography. Lesley was in her fifties and spoke with a crisp accent that reminded Cal of the royal family, and Kristofer wore rimless glasses and had long graying brown hair tied at the base of his neck.
Feeling decidedly out of place, Cal shifted to take a step back, but Austin wrapped his fingers around his wrist and drew him closer. “This is my partner, Cal Anderson.”
“Are you a photographer as well?” Professor Kittelsen asked, shaking his hand.
“No, sir. I’m a rancher,” Cal said, aware that his lazy accent stood out among the cultured educators.
Austin bumped their shoulders. “He’s being modest. He’s the foreman on our town’s biggest ranch. Basically runs the place.”
“Farming in Norway is quite rough,” Rolf said. “Very challenging because of the climate and terrain. Will you be looking for a job in ranching when you move here with Austin?”
“Uh...”
Austin went stiff next to him, but they were both saved from answering by the arrival of two women carrying portfolios and camera bags.
They were both international students, one from Poland, the other from Australia, and they had stars in their eyes when they looked at Austin.
“We’re huge fans of your work,” said Abi, the Australian. She bumped her friend’s hip. “Margaret especially. She was wondering if you’d take a look at a project she’s working on while you’re here. It’s on the Aurora Borealis.”
“What?” Margaret whisper-shouted, glaring at Abi. “No, I wasn’t.” She turned wide hazel eyes on Austin. “I wasn’t.”
“If you don’t mind sharing, I’d love to take a look.” Austin looked at Hedda. “Assuming we have time before lunch?”
Hedda’s eyes gleamed. “Go ahead,” she said, as though she knew, just like Cal did, that introducing him to the students was the way to win him over on this job.
Meeting other professors? Cool.
Meeting actual students he’d get to help and mentor and work with? Cal would be surprised if Austin didn’t accept the job by the end of the day.
It was clear Hedda was quite proud of herself as Austin stood in a classroom with Margaret and Abi, eight-by-ten prints of the Aurora Borealis spread out on the table between them. Color sharpened Austin’s cheeks, and there was a passionate intensity in his aquamarine eyes Cal had only ever seen in two other situations: when he worked with his students back home, and when he and Cal had sex.
“I have a friend who saw the northern lights for the first time recently,” Margaret said in her slight Polish accent, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “And she was disappointed because they didn’t look anything like what’s often shown in pictures.”
Austin nodded. “Cameras can detect colors that the rods in human eyes can’t.”
“That’s what I told my friend. And she said she wished photos of the northern lights showed what they actually look like to the human eye, so people like her won’t be disappointed when they see the real thing.” She moved a trio of photos in front of Austin. “So I’m calling my portfolio Rods vs Tech . One image of what my camera captured, a second where I’ve edited the contrast, saturation, and brightness to demonstrate how photographers adjust their photos to make them brighter and more appealing, and a third that I’ve processed to more or less reflect what I saw with my eyes.”
“I love the idea of this concept,” Austin said, pulling one of the photos closer.
Cal checked out as they started talking about long exposures and camera lenses and ISO values and apertures. None of it made sense to him anyway.
This, though? The way Austin lit up when he worked with others? The way everything else fell away for him and he gave his full attention to his student? The way his gestures became grander and his entire body leaned toward the photographs?
He was gorgeous, and as a ray of sunshine filtered in through one of the windows to shine on Austin, it was like the universe was agreeing with Cal. Admiration flooded through Cal, as well as desire, despite the crowd, and pride that this man was his.
But he’d be his from a distance very shortly.
Because Austin was born for this.
He needed this job.
Not because it would help him launch his professorial career back home.
But because it would make him a better photographer and a better mentor. He’d learn just as much from the students as they would from him—Cal was sure of it.
A hollow ache spread through Cal’s chest, but so did a kernel of excitement.
Because he could be sad that he was losing his best friend and partner while also being excited for him. The two weren’t mutually exclusive.
While Margaret packed up her photos a few minutes later, Rolf offered to show Austin his classroom, and when everyone filed out of the one they were in, Austin slipped his hand into Cal’s.
Swallowing hard, Cal held on as tightly as he could.