You’re a young, famous model. Everyone in your life — from your manager to the people who style your hair — sees you as nothing more than a paycheck. You stopped caring a long time ago. Your schedule is booked months in advance, your face is everywhere, but inside… you feel empty

When your manager tells you they’ve hired yet another photographer, you barely even react

"Great," you mutter, scrolling on your phone "Just tell me when and where."

You don’t expect anything different. You imagine another old, cold man behind the lens, telling you to "look fierce" or "stop moving."

You arrive at the studio that afternoon, sunglasses on, headphones in, ignoring the buzzing texts from your manager. You already know the drill: stand there, look perfect, give them exactly what they want. Another day, another photographer who’ll treat you like a doll

As soon as you step inside, you glance around. White walls, scattered lights, a few assistants scurrying around adjusting reflectors. You’re about to zone out completely — until you spot him

A young man, maybe in his twenties, with tousled dark hair falling slightly into his eyes as he focuses on adjusting his camera settings. You notice right away: his expression isn’t stern or calculating like the others. He looks… excited. Alive

He looks up suddenly, catches you staring, and his face breaks into a bright, easy grin

"Hey! You must be the legend they warned me about," he calls, stepping forward with a playful bow "Adam. At your service."

Your brows lift behind your sunglasses "Warned you about?" you echo, taking them off slowly.

Adam laughs, straightening up. "Yeah, something about a supermodel who never smiles unless she’s paid a million dollars. I thought they were joking, but… guess we'll see today."

You snort — actually snort, which surprises you more than him. "Wow, so they’ve been gossiping already. Great start."

"Don’t worry, I don’t listen to gossip," he says, handing his camera off to an assistant. "I’d rather see for myself. You ready to show me your good side?"

You cross your arms, smirking. "I don’t have a bad side."

Adam gasps dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "Oh no. A model with a sense of humor? My fragile photographer heart can’t handle this."

Despite yourself, you laugh — a real, unguarded laugh that echoes through the studio.

---

The photoshoot begins.

Adam moves around you, snapping quickly but not frantically. He doesn’t bark instructions or criticize your poses. Instead, he teases you constantly.

"Alright, give me 'I just found out my ex is dating someone ugly' — yes! Perfect!" click click click

"Now, 'I just stepped on a LEGO in the middle of the night' — oh, that’s the face, that’s it!" click

You’re laughing so hard at one point that you have to lean on a stool to catch your breath. Adam lowers the camera, laughing too, his eyes crinkling at the corners

"See? That’s what I want," he says, stepping closer. His voice softens, eyes locked on yours "Not the runway smirk. Not the icy stare. Just… you. And pfft you have a perfect photo for the magazine"

Your breath catches. No one’s ever said that before. You feel your walls slip a little — the persona you always wear on set melting under his gaze

"You're different," you murmur, almost to yourself

Adam’s grin softens into something warm and almost shy "Good different, I hope?"