Chapter 5
Five
OLIVER
"We have exactly forty-seven minutes to get these shots," I said, checking my watch as we strolled along the park pathway. "I have an appointment at four."
Behind us, at a careful distance, Elena, the photographer Zahra hired, followed discreetly, her camera occasionally clicking as she captured candid moments.
Using a professional was my suggestion. It allowed us to appear more natural in our interactions while ensuring we got the high-quality images we needed.
"Is the schedule really that strict?" Zahra asked, adjusting her Ralph Lauren sunglasses. "I thought the idea was to make this look natural."
"In some cases, natural requires careful planning," I replied, squinting against the sunlight. "Otherwise, the end result looks forced."
Zahra nodded, licking her strawberry ice cream cone with the focused dedication of someone trying to prevent a meltdown. The late afternoon sun caught in her dark hair, highlighting strands of copper.
I kept a careful mental checklist of approved interactions.
In the twelve days since our café “date,” we'd meticulously progressed from separate seating to sharing a bench, from polite distance to occasional brushes of shoulders.
Each micro-escalation was documented with seemingly casual photos, building the illusion of two old friends rediscovering something deeper.
According to my timeline, today was our transition from friendship to romance, the pivotal turning point in our social media narrative.
We'd had the proper number of casual meetups and group outings, precisely spaced over the past two-or-so weeks.
Our online audience had been properly prepped with subtle hints of reconnection.
Today was meant to signal something more.
"I still think this whole thing is overthought," Zahra said, her eyes following a young couple with their toddler. "Real relationships aren't this..."
"Structured?" I supplied.
"Calculated."
I raised an eyebrow. "You hired me for my expertise in creating convincing relationships. Calculation is what you're paying for."
She sighed, turning her attention back to her rapidly melting ice cream. "I know. I just…"
Zahra trailed off, her eyes cast down as she brought the cone to her mouth. She stuck out her tongue and rolled the swirl of pink to collect the wayward ice cream threatening to trail down, then wrapped her lips around it, sucking on it from base to tip.
Fuck.
My cock stirred awake, and I tugged at the turtleneck of my sweater. It was getting hot, and I needed a distraction. Fast.
“Maybe we should play a game,” Zahra suggested, oblivious to the effects her ice cream eating methods had on me.
“What kind of game?”
“Choose a random person and make up a background story.”
I considered her proposition. It was a distraction, within the guidelines, and since Zahra seemed to appreciate the wry humor of my insights into fellow humans, it could help with our photoshoot.
“Okay.” I searched the park for a target. “I’ve got one.” I nodded toward a man in an expensive suit talking intensely on his phone while powerwalking. My expression shifted into one of grave scientific analysis, brow furrowed as though examining a particularly complex equation.
"Banking executive. Specializes in high-risk investments." I leaned forward slightly, adjusting my glasses with clinical precision. "Currently having an existential crisis because he just realized the sandwich he ate this morning was on white bread instead of rye."
Zahra snorted, her ice cream cone freezing midway to her mouth.
"Oh my God," she managed between giggles, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she looked from the businessman to me. "You can tell all that just by looking at him?"
"Of course." I nodded gravely, not breaking character. "It's a scientific certainty. Note the way he keeps touching his stomach with mounting horror. Classic sign of bread-related regret. He’s on the phone with his therapist as we speak."
Zahra burst into a peal of bubbly laughter, and something shifted in my chest at the sound. A strange, unexpected tightening that caught me off guard.
I'd been hired to make her convincingly happy, but her genuine laughter felt different. Better. A sense of accomplishment flowed through me, more satisfying than solving a complex equation or proving a scientific hypothesis.
I smiled. Then I chuckled. And before I knew it, Zahra and I were looking at each other with an amused warmth I’d promised to never believe in again.
Zahra was still giggling as she brought her ice cream to her lips, then her head snapped up with a squeak, a dollop of strawberry ice cream painting a pink dot on her nose.
Before I could think, I reached out with my thumb, gently wiping away the spot.
Her skin was warm under my touch. So soft.
Zahra's eyes widened, her gaze locking with mine, and something passed between us that I didn’t want to name.
I froze, fingers still grazing her cheek.
I should have pulled back, but I didn’t. Not right away.
And just like that, I'd broken one of my cardinal rules.
"Perfect!" Elena hurried over, face glowing with delight as she scrolled through the shots. "The intimacy, the longing, the flutter of my heart."
“Good.” I looked over her shoulder at the preview, masking the hurricane of emotions threatening to break through my carefully constructed walls.
They were perfect for our story, exactly what we needed to convince others of our budding romance.
But what unsettled me wasn't the intimate shots of my hand on Zahra's cheek or our eyes connecting with soft gazes.
It was the earlier frames—the ones capturing us laughing together, the ease in our postures, the genuine smiles.
Two friends having lighthearted fun, stripped of pretense and calculation.
They showed a version of us I'd spent years trying to forget. A version that felt dangerously close to something real.
I swallowed hard, forcing my expression to remain neutral. "We should keep going; use the lighting to get more shots like this."
Professional. Detached. In control. I repeated the mantra silently as we repositioned ourselves, desperately trying to ignore how easily my defenses had slipped with one spontaneous moment.
"Now look up at him like he's just said something mildly amusing," Elena instructed Zahra.
Zahra gave me a look that communicated she found nothing about this situation amusing.
"That's..." I bit back a chuckle as Elena captured the moment. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Incorrigible or uncontrollable?” Zahra snapped back, and this time, her amused smile was real.
“You guys are a photographer’s dream,” Elena gushed. "I want one of Zahra alone, where you're looking off to the side, smiling to yourself so it looks like Oliver was taking shots when you weren’t noticing.”
“That’s clever,” I said, stepping aside.
I found myself watching her with unexpected appreciation. Zahra had always been photogenic, but there was something different about her now—a quiet confidence, a subtle elegance that hadn't been there when we were teenagers.
I was startled when someone pushed something into my hand. Elena. She’d handed me her camera with a knowing smile and gestured at Zahra, who seemed lost in thought and didn’t notice the silent exchange.
I lifted the camera, hesitating for a moment.
Through the viewfinder, Zahra was transformed.
The afternoon light caught her profile, illuminating the delicate curve of her cheek, the slight upturn at the corner of her mouth as she gazed across the park.
I'd forgotten how expressive her face was—how a single glance could convey more than words.
Click .
She turned at the sound, and I caught the moment she realized I was behind it. Her eyes widened, lips parting slightly. For a second, she wasn't the polished businesswoman who'd hired me, but the girl I'd known who could never hide her emotions.
Click .
"What are you doing?" she asked, but there was no irritation in her voice, just curiosity.
"My job," I replied, but the words felt hollow. This wasn't part of our contract or one of the carefully planned interactions we'd agreed upon. This was something else, something that made my chest tighten in a way I didn't want to acknowledge.
Click .
She laughed, a sound I hadn't heard in years until our coffee shop meeting.
It was fuller than I remembered, more confident.
She didn't cover her mouth the way she used to, and didn't immediately glance around to see if she was drawing attention.
This was Zahra on her own terms, and despite myself, I was captivated.
Click .
Through the camera's lens, I could study her without consequence, could notice the things I'd been deliberately avoiding—the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled genuinely, the small scar above her right eyebrow from when she'd fallen off her bike in sixth grade, the subtle tilt of her head when she was truly comfortable.
I lowered the camera, suddenly aware I'd taken far more photos than necessary. The professional excuse was wearing thin, even to myself.
"Did you get what you needed?" she asked, the question holding more weight than she knew.
I nodded, handing the camera back to Elena, who was watching us with barely concealed delight. “Shall we continue?”
We let Elena set the scenes, each one bringing us physically closer. According to my timeline, we weren't scheduled for any significant physical intimacy beyond casual touches today, something Elena was well aware of but seemed to be ignoring.
"Let's try to get some shots at the fountain," Elena suggested. "Oliver, stand behind Zahra with your hands lightly on her shoulders, like you're pointing something out in the distance. Zahra, shades off."
Zahra pushed her sunglasses into her hair, and I positioned myself as directed, keeping a professional distance while still creating the illusion of intimacy.