Chapter 25
25
It’s a big resort, so it makes sense, but it turns out there are more places to eat and drink than there are (exaggerating slightly) people. Restaurants, bars, cafés, stands – I don’t know if there is anything you can’t get here, which is wild because you would think being stuck up the Alps might limit what was available. Heck, there’s even a sushi bar, which looks phenomenal, but it’s not the first thing you think of eating when you’re up a mountain.
I’m in one of the smaller, more intimate cafés with Caleb, our lunch laid out before us like something out of a glossy magazine about French living.
It really doesn’t get more French than this. We’ve got a fresh baguette, a selection of cheeses, a plate of charcuterie, a salade ni?oise , and a small pot of creamy paté. Caleb looks a bit like a DJ as he spins the plates, making sure everything is just right.
Finally happy with the layout, he starts snapping flat-lay photos, some just of the food, others he strategically manages to work his watch into. We’re also both wearing some kind of smart rings, the kind that monitor your heart rate and all sorts, so I need to try to work mine into some of my snaps. I’m also taking a bunch of food photos for my own Instagram because, even though I don’t have many followers, I love to post food pics.
‘Wow, this looks so good,’ I say as I follow his lead, positioning my phone above the table.
Caleb, like the pro that he is, gently nudges a piece of cheese into place, making sure everything is arranged just right.
‘Here’s a tip,’ he says, glancing up at me. ‘Natural light is your best friend but these spotlights above us could ruin your shot. Make sure you’re not casting any shadows over the food. And try different angles – overhead shots are great for flat lays, but sometimes a close-up can capture the texture and details better. Just watch for those shadows.’
‘Ooh, thanks,’ I reply. ‘I never thought an actual influencer would be giving me tips on how to take my foodie pics.’
I adjust my position, taking a few overhead shots before moving in for some close-ups of my wine glass – while I hold the stem with my smart-ring-clad hand, of course.
‘How’s this?’ I ask, showing him my screen.
‘Not bad,’ he says, studying my photos. ‘Try angling the glass, just a little, but wait for the wine to stop swirling around in the glass before you take the photo. Oh, and someone told me this one, and I don’t know how professional it is, as far as advice goes, but it has always helped me. When you go to take your photo, always do it while you’re breathing out, and breathe out nice and slowly. That’s the best way to get the steadiest photo.’
‘Wow, okay,’ I say, keen to give it a try.
I hold my glass, as instructed, my ring clearly on show. I wait for the contents of my glass to settle, take a deep breath in, then as I slowly breathe out I hit the button.
‘How’s that?’ I say, showing him the new photo.
Caleb leans over to inspect my work, a smile spreading across his face.
‘Look at that, it’s perfect,’ he tells me. ‘See how you captured so much more detail?’
‘It’s the best photo I’ve ever taken in my life,’ I say, semi-seriously. I was joking but the more I look at it, the more I think it actually might be. ‘Boys can be dicks, when you take too many food pictures.’
Caleb laughs, I think because I said boys instead of men, almost like I’m chatting to him like we’re teenage gal pals.
‘Men, I mean,’ I quickly correct myself. ‘On dates and stuff. I think some of them see it as a red flag.’
‘Do you know what I see as a red flag?’ he replies. ‘People who care about stuff like that. If someone wants to take a fucking picture of a slice of cake, let them take a fucking picture of a slice of cake.’
I laugh.
‘Anyway, now for the easy part,’ he continues. ‘We get to eat it.’
I do not need telling twice.
‘So, are you ready to talk about your book?’ he asks as he digs in. ‘You made it sound like you might be struggling. Plus, I figure if you’ve taken yourself up a mountain, you must really need to concentrate.’
‘My editor sent me here, thinking it might help,’ I reply. ‘The problem is that my first books did really well, so my editor wants me to write more romcoms, but now she wants me to add in sex scenes. She doesn’t think what I’m doing is spicy enough.’
‘Oh,’ he says simply. ‘Do you not really get into the nitty-gritty with that stuff?’
‘I don’t,’ I reply. ‘Not because I’m opposed to it, because I’m just not a sexy human.’
He laughs.
‘I think I get what you’re saying,’ he replies. ‘So, what do you have so far?’
‘I have the bones of it, I just need to up the word count, and that’s where my editor wants me to add in the spicy scenes,’ I reply. ‘About 20k worth.’
‘Twenty thousand words of shagging?’ he replies. ‘Is that normal?’
‘Is any of this normal?’ I reply with a shrug.
‘Fair point,’ he says, thankfully understanding what I meant. ‘Perhaps I could help you?’
‘Oh yeah?’ I reply.
‘Yeah, when we’re done here, come back to my chalet,’ he suggests. ‘We can take some more photos – I’ve got more jewellery, clothes, face and body products, books, all sorts – and between shots maybe I can help you with your writing. Two heads are better than one, right?’
Of course, the first thought to pop into my cynical little brain is to wonder whether or not I really want to take writing advice from a celebrity who is publishing a ghostwritten book, but I guess two heads are better than one – the more head the better, as I’m sure my editor would say.
‘Okay, sure, thanks,’ I reply. ‘Maybe if we bounce off each other…’
Caleb’s eyebrows shoot up.
‘Not like that,’ I quickly add with a laugh.
‘You never know, it might work,’ he jokes. ‘But, hey, look, you’re talking dirty already. How hard can it be?’
‘Now you’re doing it,’ I point out, sniggering at his choice of words.
‘See, we make a great team,’ he points out.
We do. We’ve got the fun, flirty banter down for sure, but I’ve always been great at that part. It’s what happens next that I can never quite pull the trigger on.