You adjust your lens, carefully framing the shot. The studio is quiet, filled only with the soft hum of the overhead lights and the occasional creak of the floor beneath your boots.

Alex lifts the hem of his shirt with one hand, revealing the lean lines of his torso, the Calvin Klein band sitting neatly above his jeans.

He’s steady, still, unbothered by the camera. Professional. Muscular, sharp-featured, and calm, everything you expected when they told you who you’d be shooting today.

You step in, adjusting the angle slightly. The flowers tucked into his waistband soften the image, balancing the defined edges of his body with something quieter, more delicate. It’s a contrast that works. Clean. Intentional.

“Like this?” he asks, not looking at you, just focused on the direction.

“That’s good. Hold it,” you say, voice even, fingers clicking the shutter in measured rhythm.

He doesn’t move much, doesn’t need to. Each frame captures what you came for, strong lines, soft light, and stillness. You’re used to this part. Observing. Composing. Watching something come together one quiet piece at a time.