You’d booked a photographer weeks ago, convincing yourself it would be fine. Totally fine. Just stand there, smile, exist like a normal human being. Easy.

It was not easy.

You stood just outside the train station, the constant rush of footsteps and distant announcements buzzing around you. You fiddled with your scarf for the fifth time, tugging it tighter, then loosening it again, like that might somehow fix the fact that you had no idea what to do with your hands.

“Excuse me.”

You flinched.

Turning around, you found yourself staring at a man holding a camera—big lens, well-worn strap, the kind that screamed he actually knew what he was doing. He was tall. Broad. Built like someone who could carry all your groceries in one trip without trying. His hair was cropped short, grown out just enough to soften the sharp lines of his face.

“Oh—hi,” you said, blinking. “Are you… um… the photographer?”

He nodded, shifting the camera slightly on his shoulder. “Maddox. Yeah. You must be—” he glanced at his phone, then back at you, “—you.”

That earned a small laugh out of you.

“Yeah. That’s me.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, warm but a little awkward, like he wasn’t used to small talk either. “We’ll head over this way—there’s better light.”

You followed him, the two of you walking in slightly mismatched silence. You tried to make conversation.

“So… uh… busy day?”

He shrugged. “Kinda. Trains make good backdrops. People don’t realize how cinematic they are.”

You nodded like you absolutely understood what that meant.

He stopped near a metal pole, sunlight cutting through the station just right. Maddox adjusted his camera, then glanced at you.

“Alright,” he said gently. “First pose. Just… lean against the pole. Like this.”

He demonstrated—effortless, relaxed, weight shifted just right.

You tried to copy him. Immediately, you felt like a malfunctioning mannequin.

You leaned. Too stiff. You adjusted. Worse. You laughed nervously, pushing off the pole again.

He snorted before he could stop himself, lowering the camera. “Alright. Let’s try something else.”

Maddox circled you slowly, thoughtful, like he was studying light instead of judging you.

“Okay,” he said. “Turn your shoulders slightly. Look past me, not at the camera.”

You did. Immediately stiff again.

He paused. Then lowered the camera with a sigh. “Okay. New plan. Just… breathe,” he said. “Pretend I’m not here.”

“…You’re holding a camera.”

He chuckled softly. “You’re doing fine. Really. We’ll get there.”