10 | Unexpected
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It's much harder to focus on my camera when there's the constant drone of a million voices rattling in my ears - it's actually closer to impossible.
This is why I don't venture out of my usual jobs. I like having a carefully structured line of people to get through, an organised pace, things I can control myself.
Places like this are the fucking opposite.
A light scowl paints my face as I try, harder, to just concentrate.The only reason I'm stood here, trapped in one of the flashy high rises I hate so much, is because it pays well, enough that I thought I'd be worth dealing with this manufactured chaos.
I can barely hear myself think.
My train of thought snaps, giving up on the blurring pixels in front of me, and I'm unwillingly absorbed back into the room. The loud voice of some probably important person cracks through the air. Another light that's being set up sears into my eyes.
When I glance over to my left a bumbling rack of clothes are wheeled further into the room, two women talking over it with serious looks across their faces. I sigh heavily, deciding that staring at a screen whilst unsuccessfully tuning everything out might actually be the better option.
Before my eyes can fully flick away, however, one of the women from the rack catches my gaze, a clipboard resting gently in her arms. She smiles a little, offering a wave. I pause, frowning.
Was that for me?
I can't wonder for long. By the time I blink she's already made it over to where I'm standing, pushing her way into my isolated bubble of space.
"Hey," She gushes, voice light.
I push myself up straighter, standing tall beside my camera, "Hi."
Her brownish hair is piled above her head, contrasting the damp green of her eyes. That smile reaches far across her face, meeting pink cheeks and a few silver piercings in each ear. I'd seen her briefly earlier, when I got here, but our eyes barely met.
"You know what you're doin'?" She asks, tilting her head a little, "Like what time we start and all that?"
Something about her makes me curious.
"Yeah, ten, right?"
"That's it," She nods, offering out a hand, "I'm Honey, part of the clothing department."
She bats her eyelids, pupils widening the longer they stay locked on mine. That smile hasn't faded, maybe grown stronger, confidence clear on her face. It only confirms what I'd just started to notice -she's flirting with me.
I glance at her outstretched arm before taking it, our skin touching for a brief moment.
"Nolan," I reply.
"Hmm, Nolan. I like that," She says, my brain hitching on her playful tone.
My eyebrows raise a little involuntarily, brain catching up to her flirty remarks, the flash of intention in her smile. Something tugs at the corners of my lips too.
"You do?" I reply.
She nods, "It's nice to say, rolls off the tongue... and it's not my brother's name. That fits all my criteria."
My brain is clouded with a familiar haze, the little spike of adrenaline I always get from conversations like these.
Women have never been hard for me, in fact they've always been easy.
You make a few jokes, throw back the same teasing comments and everything falls into place.
You fuck and everyone has a good time. It's easy.
Relationships aren't. They take a miserable amount of work and commitment, and even if they don't fall apart straight away, they're bound to eventually. I could never stick it, never will probably.
I chuckle back, watching her fluttering lashes, "You have a name criteria?"
She shrugs, "It's efficient. Why don't you have one?"
I open my mouth to say something back but I'm cut off by a voice calling for her, both our eyes darting towards the direction of the noise. Her eyes catch my lips briefly before glueing themselves to my gaze again. She even bites her lip slightly.
"I gotta go, the people need me" She sighs, flashing a small wink, "I'll find you later, Nolan."
And then she's gone, walking away before any other words leave my lips. I can feel myself smiling, happy to be pulled out of this room for a moment. I need a distraction and Honey, she's definitely a good one.
My fingers still on the ridge of my camera, tracing the buttons as my eyes linger on her for a moment. She throws another smile at me before resuming her conversation, my breath rises in response. I probably needed this. Something flirty, not serious.
I'm close to taking my eyes off her but don't get all the way back down to my camera, catching the noise of the main door clicking open. The acoustics of the studio make it echo, sound bouncing across the walls.
It's a woman. One of the models.
She's facing away from me, long, blonde hair, falling down past her shoulders in rings of curls, a warm tone against the black of the cinched top around her torso.
My eyes glance downwards, running their way over the mini skirt barely covering the round of her ass, leaving a gap of bare skin trailing down her back.
Her slender legs fall to the ground into tall, dark boots. I blink.
Fuck.
I watch her stroll towards the rest of the group. The colours are the same, blacks and whites, but something about her outfit is different, shapes her differently, almost.
She turns slightly to the side. I still can't fully see a face but catch a glimpse of dark, smoky eye makeup and something deep red clinging to her lips.
The silver jewellery draped around her neck sparkles under one of the lights.
The top pushes up her chest, flattering her boobs as curls fall over her.
I'm frozen staring before I even have time to think properly.
My head is suddenly so far away from Honey, forgetting any of our previous interaction.
My eyes are glued to the girl having a conversation across the room, the girl pushing a strand of hair behind her ears.
I want to move but my feet are planted in the ground. I haven't even seen her face properly and I'm mesmerised, drawn in by something.
It seems as if I'm not the only one, a few other people stopping to stare at her, marvel at her. Honey'smouth even falls open before twisting into a grin. She's really made a fucking entrance.
Who is she?
As soon as I ask the question I wish I hadn't.
Because then she turns to face me and everything crumbles.
No. Fucking. Way.
Beneath the dark black around her eyes and the shiny lips is a face I recognise. I know that hair, it's usual waves that spill down pale shoulders. I know the fluttering lashes, whirling blue eyes, light arching brows. I'm not used to short skirts, revealing tops and tall boots.
My mind is malfunctioning as her eyes catch me too. She's surprised, caught off guard, ambushed. Her face falls to an insulted scowl almost perfectly, like she's confirming it is in fact who I think it is.
Ava.
She blinks and we're both stuck looking at each other for a moment.
I can't think. I should've recognised her.
Fuck. But she looks good, really good.
I've never seen her like this, no one has I'm assuming. Not even herself. Something in me stalls, caught between a myriad of thoughts. Why is she here? How is she here?
I'm more concerned with the worse thoughts, the ones stirring below my initial surprise.
I hadn't known it was her and I raked my eyes over her figure, I've never looked at her like that.
I can't. But for a brief moment she wasn't shoved into the Riley's objectively pretty friend category.
The same way I can't deny that she's objectively pretty or glows under the lens of the camera, I can't deny the woman standing in front of me looks fucking amazing.
That hair frames her face, tracks every soft movement of her jaw as the darkness on her lips coats their usual innocence.
Her eyes seem sharper, dangerous. I can't seem to drag my gaze away.
But it's so in the realm of wrong my head is spinning. It's messy, and weird and fucks with my brain.
I watch as her mouth opens, then closes again, body seemingly stuck in place. I can see something ticking through her head, laced with that general annoyance she has when she sees me.
I need to act fucking normal I chant in my head. Normal. I can do normal.
I need to think about anything else. Honey, the very hot woman who was flirting with me. That's fine, normal, acceptable. I drift my eyes in her direction but she's focused on something else, forcing me to snap back to Ava.
I push a smile onto my face. Be normal. I leave my camera behind as my feet begin to tread lightly across the floor, avoiding a few other people. Time has slowed, everything warping as I finally make it over to her.
"Are you stalking me?" She drawls, folding her arms across her chest.
I frown, "I think you're stalking me, this is my job, Birdie."
"I should've fucking known you'd be here," She mutters under her breath.
It's stranger close up. Not just the makeup, the sparkle over her eyelids and deep shade on her lips, but how much more recognisable she is. The curls are new but it's still that same hair, just like that blue of her eyes that's so shiny and bitter. Some strange emotion bites at me again.
"How'd you end up here?" I ask, curiosity plaguing my tongue.
She continues to furrow her brows, "Doesn't matter."
"Kinda does," I counter.
Her eyes meet mine, some defiance in them. That dark shadow lingers around them, sharpening her usually softer features. Is she angrier than normal?
"Fuck you, Winters."
A small chuckle escapes my lips, "Someone's in a bad mood."
"I'm not in a bad mood, I'm just..." Her voice trails off, like she can't find the words. I'm used to this, her little exasperation, her quiet voice. It puts me at ease, back in control slightly. "I don't want to talk to you. You just do your job, okay?"
"Yeah, I was planning on it."
She throws me a winced, sarcastic smile, arms still thrown over her chest. I keep my eyes up, at her face, her pink cheeks, her complete opposite of a smile. Down is bad, down is cleavage and parts of her that are not mine to see. It's fucking Ava.
This shit is messing with my head.
Soon someone is calling her away to whatever place she needs to be standing in, along with everyone else. I watch as she falls in line with the other models, voices overlapping in the echoey room.
It's funny, how that makeup covers her nervousness.
If you didn't know her you'd assume she knows exactly what she's doing.
But I do know her. Hesitation rests in her every movement, eyes refusing to make contact as she shuffles into position.
She bites the inside of her cheek, parts her lips cautiously, looks lost. It's almost cute.
No one else seems to notice.
The clock falls to ten and a million people are taking their places. I shuffle over to my camera properly, ready to listen to overarching instructions I know are going to annoy me. Having all my ideas dictated by someone else twists something in my stomach.
The group shots are easy enough, some director telling everyone exactly where to stand, how to have their hands, how to mesh with one another. I do my job, easily, but still find my eyes catching Ava's through the lens.
I should be thinking of a million things to tease her about but I'm strangely put off.
She seems nervous, like really fucking nervous.
More than when I took those photos of her, more than when I climbed through her bedroom window in the middle of the night.
But I can't say anything, speak to her, interrupt the flow of everything out of my control.
Instead, I just glance upwards, blinking at her. I offer a small nod, to which she does nothing but narrow her eyes. There's a small, fleeting moment before a light flashes and cracks it open.
But she does get better.
Her shoulders relax over time, face melting with that still, sharp look.
When's told to push a hand through one side of her hair that blonde bunches up, messy and effortlesslyperfect.
When she's told to lean against one of the other models her skirt rises higher up her thighs, hips leaning towards the body beside her.
She blends into the group whilst almost standing out completely.
It's different to how she usually looks, but that photogenic quality is unmistakable. It doesn't matter how she looks, the camera laps up every part of her. It captures dangerous innocence in her eyes, the flattering fabric clinging to her chest, the quiet beauty of her face.
I'm barely listening when a voice booms across towards me.
"You," That producer or director or something says, finger aimed at me, "Do the solo ones of her please."
I nod firmly, but weirdly my thoughts are less stable.
I've aways wanted to take pictures of Ava, but now there's a stirring hesitance.
Seeing her, like this, all scowling and dressed up and different feels like the opposite of the way I've always seen her.
I'm trying normal, I really am, but none of this is normal.
I catch her eyes again as she follows instructions, moving over to a different section where I can photograph her away from the other models. Her lips are open and parted, face moving gently as she adjusts herself over the mark stuck to the ground.
I'm biting my tongue, wondering whether I should really say anything to her at all. Strangely, I hear her words first.
"Why is it always you?" She mumbles, breath quiet - but not quiet enough.
She doesn't even notice I hear her, falling into position. It twists my brain even more, helps me understand what goes on in that head of hers. It's like I'm always here, in her life, pushing myself in, even when I don't mean to.
This is why I need to stop. Speaking to her, getting those reactions out of her. But it's hard when life seems determined to always trap us in the same suffocating spaces.
"You ready?" I ask, clearing my throat.
She blinks, irritation in her glare, but nods anyway, attempting to channel whatever confidence she took on for the rest of the photos.
I don't give her much direction. She can do most of it pretty well now, the hard, striking stares, the open lips, the soft tilt of the head.
Her hair continues to frame her face, a little messy now but in a good way, adding to the edgy glow of the photos.
I watch her move through my screen, each flash capturing her a little differently.
When I've taken enough mid-shots I raise my head, gesturing with the hand not gripped to the side of the camera.
"Move to the furthest mark."
She shuffles backwards until the frame just cuts off her ankles.
The black fabric stuck to her body sticks out against the white even more, the way it hugs her thighs, her chest, her legs, collarbone.
I'm hit with something again, whatever feeling seemed to mesmerise everyone in the room when she first walked in.
But I'm not supposed to be thinking about that. I don't care how good she looks.
I take a few more, her arms falling by her side naturally. The click echoes in my ears, so familiar, but also far away, like it's only something I partially recognise.
"Turn to your left," I mutter without thinking much, absorbed in the camera's focus.
She does it, shoulder almost facing the lens as her face twists over it. Her hair falls, she blinks, everything falls into place. It's effortless. It always is with her and I can't seem to work out why.
Maybe it's just her whole...new look. It's messing with me.
By the time I've got a good amount of photos, some with her hand through her hair, pulling strands over the top of her head in a sort-of blonde waterfall, some with her hands gently stationed on her hips, meeting the uncovered skin at her waist, a sharp sound snaps me out of everything.
"Take an hour for lunch!" The voice yells, followed by the immediate sound of everyone winding things down.
Camera's click off, noise shuffles towards the door, racks are wheeled towards the back of the room. There's no Ava in front of my camera, no dark eyeshadow glaring into my lens, just the cluttered noise of a busy photography studio.
"She looks good, right?" A slightly familiar voice whispers beside me.
I blink, turning my head to catch Honey leaning down beside my camera, marvelling the latest photo splashed across it.
"She's not even a model, god knows why, she's gorgeous," She mutters, eyes flickering up to meet Ava who's already scuttled away from me, grabbing her coat on the other side of the room.
"Oh, yeah, she's..." My brain falters, not sure of the right words. I'm not used to being so suddenly ripped out of my concentration. Nothing seems right to say.
Luckily, Honey speaks again before I can even attempt to continue.
"Listen, a couple of us are getting drinks after this, you wanna join?" A smile graces over her face, eyes wide and attentive.
I glance at her, that silky hair and the fluttering green of her eyes.
I'm reminded of how I felt earlier, before everything twisted in my head.
It's how I feel now. She's attractive, really attractive, a girl I'd usually go for.
Her flirtatious smile burns into the simmering attraction between us.
I don't even know why I'm hesitating. There's no situation where I'd ever say no to getting drinks with a pretty girl like her.
"Yeah, I'd love to," I grin, washing away any doubt.
She nods, "Good. That's what I thought you'd say."
"You did?" I frown, playfully.
"Of course I did," She grins, before gesturing over to the few people still left in the room, "I gotta run and speak to my team, but I'll catch you later."
I smile, "Enjoy your lunch, Honey." She has a nice name, syllables sweet in my mouth.
"You too, bye," She gushes with another intentional wink.
I watch her go, again, this time glancing at her figure. Those long legs that lead up to her ass, the curve of her back visible through the open design of her top, what looks like a tattoo inked on the back of her neck. My eyes stay there for a moment. God, she looks good.
I drag my gaze away after not too long, there's a point where staring at someone, even when they're swaying their hips slightly on purpose, becomes socially unacceptable. Not that there's anyone left in the room, it's just me and a few other stragglers clinging onto the faded silence.
I gather what I need before slipping out those doors, faced with a confusing building I don't care to understand.
I know I have some permanently irritated expression etched on my face, growing stronger the more turns I take into confusing corridors.
Seriously who designed this fucking building?
I'm hungry too, hangry probably. The only motivation for me actually finding this building's cafeteria is that lunch is free. The thought only makes my stomach growl harder as I turn towards an empty hallway, large windows streaking light across it.
It's still not where I need to be but I hear voices, water, a hand-dryer.
Just as I turn to the door beside me someone walks out, the obvious noise of a bathroom becoming a lot less muffled.
I go to move backwards, out the way, but my feet trickle to a stop.
It's Ava, because of course it is.
She looks a little different. Whatever was on her lips is gone, that rosy pink shade I'm so used to replacing it.
It looks a little mismatched compared to the rest of the dark, heavy makeup coating her eyes and cheeks.
It doesn't look bad though, never bad.
Her hair has lost a little volume but I'm still dragging my eyes over the curls like I'm seeing them for the first time.
I can't seem to figure out the right words, that strange energy brimming between us, the one that's been swarming us all day. My brain flicks between her new appearance, her nerves back in that room, the way she looked into the lens. Everything's cluttered.
"Are you okay?" Is what leaves my lips eventually.
I'm not sure if it sounds sincere, or really what she might not be okay about. She shakes her head anyway, darting her eyes away purposefully.
"I'm fine."
Her voice is low, distracted. It's a lie, or at least not the whole truth - like when she says she was never scared of me.
I can see that gentle deceit cloud her expression, it acts as proof.
But she's still not looking at me. Part of me wants to rest my fingers under her chin and tilt her face towards me. Those eyes are the biggest giveaway.
She huffs at my silence, reading my unconvinced judgement and rolling her eyes.
"No, seriously, this is fine, I'mokay," Her words are rushed, like she wants to escape the conversation despite staying still, "You don't have to pretend to care because Riley told you to."
Riley?
I frown, "Riley didn't tell me you'd be here."
She laughs, breathy and unserious, "You expect me to believe that?"
I pause, choosing the right words. Why would she think my sister would put her anywhere in my vicinity? She loses her shit at any possibility I might not be following this new life she's planned out for me, she doesn't even trust me.
Ava drawing this conclusion surprises me, I feel like she knows this. Is she so nervous she's not even thinking that far? It amuses me, too, that me asking if she's ok could only be because I was told to say it.
"Did Riley say I would be here?" I say, tilting my head a little.
She shakes her head, "No, she probably wanted you to keep an eye on me or something."
I try to rationalise her thought process. She thought Riley kept it from her because she wouldn't have come if she knew I was here.
"She doesn't want me anywhere near you. I didn't tell her about this," My voice is firm, matter-of-factly, "It's just a coincidence, Birdie."
She pauses, unsure whether to believe me. Something is clicking in that little head of hers, how much she knows Riley doesn't want me close to her, how unfortunate of a coincidence this is. I don't blame her. It's like the universe constantly wants us to be in the same room.
I watch as she sighs gently, almost unnoticeable as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
The silence expands, filling my ears. I don't like it, the quiet, the awkward noise. And despite my weak vows to stop teasing her, stop getting that fleeting reaction, it seems to be the thing I default to.
"So, is this your new look?" I murmur, eyes glancing down slightly.
Her voice comes back laced with sarcasm, "Very funny."
"I'm serious," I continue, "It's... different. Looks good on you."
She rolls her eyes, beginning to move past me, "Well in that case, you can really enjoy jacking off to these photos, hm?"
"You've got to stop saying that. Makes me sound like a creep."
"You are a creep," She asserts, turning back to glance at me, "And you made the joke first, asshole."
I blink, caught off by her calling me an asshole. It makes a small smile hint at my lips, not just the words but the fire re-sparked in her eyes. She looks slightly less uncomfortable than when this conversation started, something familiar slithering under her skin.
Her curled hair flicks back over her shoulder as she heads away from me, boots echoing a little on the floor. I keep my eyes at the back of her head, firmly. Not lower.
My head continues to spin.
Today is fucking weird.
And now I have to find that stupid fucking cafeteria.
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