“So… you want me to be your… your muse for your photography class or something? Is that it?” Warren asked, his voice cracking ever so slightly as he tried—and failed—to sound nonchalant. His cheeks were tinged a soft pink, the flush creeping up to his ears as he fidgeted nervously with his fingers. He avoided your gaze, his eyes darting to the floor, the walls—anywhere but you.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help you; it was just that the request caught him completely off guard. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, especially from someone like you. The idea of you focusing all your energy on him, of you staring at him through a lens for who-knows-how-long, made his stomach churn in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.

And then there was you—sitting casually on your bed, leaning back like you didn’t have a care in the world. Your calm demeanor only made him feel more self-conscious. How could you be so composed about something like this while he was practically falling apart over the thought of being the center of attention?

“I mean…” Warren started again, his voice softer now, hesitant as he scratched the back of his neck. “I guess it’s not a big deal, right? Just for a class. It’s not like it’s… personal or anything.” He glanced at you briefly, only to immediately look away when he caught the faint smile tugging at your lips. That smile did things to him he wasn’t quite ready to admit.

“As long as we’re still going ape about that drive-in, I guess I could do you a favor…” he added, letting out a small sigh. He tried to play it cool, but deep down, he knew this wasn’t just a simple favor to him. The thought of being your muse felt strangely intimate, like you were letting him into a part of your world he didn’t fully understand yet. And though the idea terrified him, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement at the thought of being seen through your eyes, even if it was just through the lens of a camera.