Chapter One
OCTOBER - LONDON COMIC CON
Bastian
My camera clicked over and over as I focused on the cosplayer posing in front of me, moving around so I could be sure to get in all the details of her dress.
It must have taken hours to make, considering how complicated it was and the amount of detail on the skirt, and I wanted to capture everything so Alice would be able to remember just how amazing she looked.
“That’s lovely,” I said. “Just twist slightly… Beautiful. Hold there.” The camera clicked again. “Perfect.”
I lowered my camera and scrolled through the last couple of shots, nodding to myself.
They’d clean up beautifully in editing. I didn’t tend to do much to the pictures, just a little smoothing and things like removing the guy in the Batman suit from the background where he’d walked across the back of the shot.
Shooting outside at a comic convention meant things like that were bound to happen, so I prepared for it, and I knew how to quietly pull them out to make my clients the focus.
Cosplay photography was something I adored doing, but it was more of a hobby than my job.
I spent most of my time shooting weddings or doing commercial bridal photography, and while I loved weddings, there was something even more magical about helping people bring characters to life.
It added a wonderful variety to my career, even if it did amp up my already packed schedule.
“I think we’ve got it,” I said, beaming up at Alice, who’d relaxed and was waiting anxiously to see what I’d say. It was my first time shooting with her, and it had been easy to tell she was nervous, but she’d done a wonderful job. “You did beautifully.”
“Thank you so much,” she said, a bright smile lighting up her face. She looked so happy she might float away if she wasn’t careful. “I can’t wait to see them!”
“No worries. They’re going to look gorgeous.” I grinned at her and carefully put my camera in the bag at my feet, pulling out one of the glossy business cards I carried. “I’ll send your photos over in a couple of weeks. Any problems or questions before then, just send me an email.”
“Thank you again!” She beamed at me as her boyfriend joined her, giving her a gentle kiss and a proud smile. “Seriously, I can’t believe I got to shoot with you.”
“Of course. You’ll get first refusal on a slot for next time too.
” I looked at her boyfriend, noting his fine features and the way he was looking at Alice like she’d hung the moon.
They made an adorable couple, and they’d look beautiful together in pictures.
“You know, if you ever fancy it, I do couples shoots. Contemporary and cosplay. And I’m happy to travel too. ”
“Awesome. Thanks!”
They wandered away, and I reached down to grab a cereal bar out of my bag, picking up my camera again to scroll through the pictures.
I wondered for a moment if I’d come on too strong with the couples shoot thing.
My sister-in-law, Lizzie, who I adored, was always telling me I needed to be more business minded and offer add-ons despite the fact I was always fully booked, but I’d just been thinking how cute they’d look together. I should have told them that.
I sighed to myself and sat down on the floor. The October sun was still warm, and I was glad the weather had held for the weekend. Not that I wouldn’t have shot in the rain, but it was always a nightmare since nobody wanted to ruin their hard work by getting it wet.
At least I now had a break for a bit, so I could sit and do nothing for a while.
I always had to concentrate while shooting, and it was exhausting.
I almost wished I had time to go back to my hotel room for a nap, but I knew that if I lay down I wouldn’t want to get back up again.
It was either that or I’d see my laptop and start editing photos, and then I’d forget to emerge until much later, probably when I got hungry.
Picking at the cereal bar, I began to look around the outdoor bowl of the London ExCeL centre where London Comic Con was held twice a year.
There were cosplayers everywhere, modelling everything from working superhero suits to glittering ballgowns to simple costumes that could be pulled together on a budget.
There were conniving villains, dashing heroes, fabulous heroines, and everything in between.
It was a riot of colour and sound and passion, and I loved every second of it.
There were lots of ordinary fans wandering around too, enjoying the sunshine, looking at whatever they’d bought from the many stands, and asking people for photos.
My eyes roamed across the steps cut into the side of the bowl, down the little grove of trees I was sat near, to the long marble-style bench at the other end that was nearer to the river and out of the way of the hustle and bustle.
My gaze lingered on a man sitting on the bench, poring over a laptop and oblivious to the world around him.
He was older—at least older than me—with short, dark hair that just seemed to be going grey around the temples and a strong jaw dusted with stubble.
He was wearing dark glasses that he kept absent-mindedly pushing up as if he wasn’t quite used to them, and his eyes were focused intently on the screen in front of him as his fingers hovered above the keyboard.
I wondered who he was.
Whoever he was, he was certainly handsome. Very handsome.
He was wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose tanned forearms, dark chinos, and well-worn boots.
There was a leather jacket on the bench next to him with a laptop bag dumped on top of it.
A bright orange lanyard hung around his neck, which meant he was obviously a guest, but he didn’t look like anyone I knew.
I frowned and chewed my cereal bar, trying to work out who he was.
The convention had expanded over the past few years to include more strands, so it wasn’t just film, television, comics, and anime any more.
There were video games—big and small—artists of all sorts, board games, fiction…
if it was nerdy, it could probably be found here.
I didn’t think he was an actor because they usually had someone with them, and most of the artists had their own stands, which you could barely drag them off for more than five minutes.
He might have been someone’s assistant, but that seemed unlikely, so that narrowed down my options again.
“Maybe he’s with a film company,” I said to myself, picking a bit of chocolate off my jeans.
“Or a studio.” That might make sense. But the deep frown on his face as he stared at the screen and sighed looked more like he was focusing on something he was working on.
“A screenwriter maybe,” I mused. “Or an editor. Maybe he’s an author. ”
Whoever he was, he had piqued my interest.
There was something about his face and the light and the way everything seemed to come together when I looked at him. He truly was the handsomest man I’d ever seen.
I wanted to take his picture.
I knew I should ask first—that was just good manners—but if I asked him, he might try to pose and then it would look forced, or even worse, he might say no. And it wasn’t as if I wanted to keep the picture for me per se, but I wanted to take it to capture this feeling… this moment.
My camera was right by my hand. It wouldn’t take much. I wouldn’t even need to do much to set up the shot.
Then the man looked up and gazed off into space, looking at something I couldn’t see—something I didn’t think existed in this world. His deep frown had been replaced by a different expression, one that looked almost pensive.
My hand reached for my camera before I could really think the decision through.
I picked it up out of my bag, flicked it on, popped off the lens cap, pointed, and clicked rapidly.
There was a feeling deep in my gut that knew these pictures were going to be perfect before I’d even looked at them.
Excitement and another emotion I couldn’t place bubbled through me, and I knew I was smiling.
The man turned and saw me shooting him. He must have seen the glint from the camera…
or maybe just the camera itself since it wasn’t small.
The frown returned, deeper and more serious this time.
He didn’t look particularly impressed to find me taking his photo, and that was quite possibly an understatement.
I put the camera down and put the cap back on.
I knew I should have felt guilty about what I’d done, but I didn’t.
Instead, I felt pleased he’d spotted me because at least now I had a reason to go and talk to him.
And while he looked grumpy, I doubted he would be rude to me.
It was probably more tiredness or the general strain of the convention.
I smiled, both at him and to myself. Once he saw how lovely the picture was, I was sure he wouldn’t mind.
And I would offer to send it to him—for free obviously—and if he really wanted me to, I would delete it.
Unfolding myself from the ground, I dusted down my jeans, picked up my camera, and strolled towards him.