The photographer's comment about "young and passionate" hung in the air, making me feel instantly self-conscious. And I could tell from the way Mark stiffened beside me that he felt the same. I could feel my face heating up, but I shrugged it off quickly, refusing to let him see that it'd gotten under my skin.
Mark was already setting his jaw, his expression unreadable.
The photographer motioned us back to our places, and we continued the session, mostly in silence. It felt endless, and the longer it dragged on, the more strained things became between us. A few more couple shots, then a series of solo photos. It was a relief to put a little distance between us, even if the scrutiny of the camera felt intense.
The worst part was the way he kept glancing at me when he thought I wouldn't notice—suspicious and guarded, like I was hiding something.
