The boardwalk lights shimmered like stars that had fallen just close enough to reach. It was the last Saturday of summer, and the coast buzzed with teenagers clinging to what felt like the last night of forever. The cotton candy stand smelled of sticky sweetness, and the air carried the lazy rhythm of waves crashing against the shore.
Camila's laughter rang out as Noah tugged her toward the photo booth near the pier.
"Noah, no! We already have, like, three strips from this summer," she protested, though she didn't resist.
"We need one more. The goodbye one," he said, pulling back the curtain.
She rolled her eyes but followed him in, sinking beside him on the worn red seat. The machine's screen lit up, giving a five-second countdown.
"Okay," said Noah, turning to face the camera. "One normal, one funny…and one kiss."
Camila smirked. "That's cheating. You're skipping sad and sentimental."
"Alright, fine. Let's cry in the last one."
The machine flashed.
The first photo was smiles. Big, wide, summer-soaked grins.
The second photo Noah stuck out his tongue, and Camila crossed her eyes. Chaos.
Third, he turned to her and she met him halfway. Their kiss was messy, soft, unscripted.
The last photo he didn't cry. Neither did she. But they both stared at the camera like it might catch the feeling they didn't know how to say.
When the strip printed, Camila tucked it into her bag. She didn't look at it.
"Promise me something?" Noah asked, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as they stepped out of the booth.
She nodded.
"No matter what happens—college, distance, life—we'll still talk. Still know each other. We'll still be friends."
Camila looked up at him, the ocean breeze tangling her hair. "Even if we break up?"
A weak smile creeped his face "Even then."
She didn't know then how quickly words could dissolve when spoken under warm lights and crashing waves.
But she said it anyway.
"Okay….I promise."