It was meant to be simply another day at work. I walked onto the photo shoot set, squinting at the intense overhead lights.
The air smelled like fresh paint and coffee classic magazine chaos. "You're late," a voice from at my back. Janet, the editor-in-chief, glared at me over her clipboard.
She was the kind of woman who could cut through steel with a look. She said and kept on looking at me, and she walked closer to meet me.
"Traffic," I muttered, though it was more of an excuse than the truth.
Truth was I'd spent ten minutes sitting in my car, debating whether I could pull this off. Pretending to be in love with Sam?
The thought caused my stomach to twist.
I noticed him near the wardrobe racks, casually leaning on a suit rack, looking overly relaxed for my liking.
Sam had this maddening ability to make any room feel like it was his.
He could not let me be in my thoughts and make a good decision for myself.
The fact that I am not like every girl. I was the woman who knew exactly how irritating he could be.
He caught my eye and smirked. "Ready to be my doting girlfriend, Lisa?" I turned my gaze to meet with him. I rolled my eyes.
"Ready for you to not ruin this shoot?"
Remember that this was a Journey we took for a moment. I said, looking at him.
"Touché," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender.
We were here because of some genius marketing idea by Janet.
A fake love story between the rising star photographer me and the insufferable author whose latest book was climbing bestseller, charts Sam.
The magazine wanted authenticity, whatever that meant.
The photographer and the subject, madly in love? A "modern love story," they called it. I called it humiliating.
"Places, people!" Janet clapped her hands.
We were led onto a set created to resemble a warm living room.
Soft lighting, a comfortable sofa, and a couple of scattered books were meant to convey closeness.
The stylist passed me a cozy knit sweater, one of those items meant to give an effortlessly romantic appearance.
Sam put on a cozy sweater as well, his cologne drifting through the air as he passed.
My chest constricted, yet I brushed the thought away.
We were seated on the sofa, our knees in contact. The photographer, a slender man with a strong accent—moved back to observe us. I took my time arranging in a modern style.
"Come closer," he commanded.
Sam's arm wrapped around my shoulders, causing my whole body to tense up.
"Take it easy," he whispered. His breath felt warm in my ear.
I compelled myself to settle into the position. I wasn't going to allow him to notice how much he unsettled me.
The photographer moved around us, snapping rapidly. "Lean closer." Grin. "Get her to laugh, Sam!" He said with a smiling face that appeared to be gentle.
Sam chuckled softly from deep in his throat, a sound that seemed wonderfully sincere. "You listened to him." "I must get you to laugh." He said.
In my thoughts, I said to myself, I will prostrate your opinion.
I bit my lip, denying him the pleasure. He moved in nearer, his nose almost touching mine.
"Watch out," I cautioned softly.
"Watch out for what?" he replied softly, his voice playful.
Still, there was a spark in his eyes, something that stood apart from the happy exterior.
I was unaware of what it was, and it made me feel uncomfortable.
The camera snapped once more, and the flash created dots swirling in my sight.
"Excellent!" "Now more personal," the photographer shouted.
"Closer?" I let out a hiss.
Sam remained silent. Rather, his hand moved to my jaw, angling my face towards his.
For a brief moment, I lost sight of the fact that we were among a dozen people.
His touch was not hesitant, it was confident, as if he had experienced it countless times prior.
My heart pounded as his lips glided over my temple, not quite a kiss, but near enough to set my skin afire.
And then, I sensed it. The ignition.
I couldn't put it into words—this small, tingling sensation where his skin touched mine.
It coursed through me like a raging fire, and I realized he sensed it as well.
His hand paused, if only briefly, as though he was as surprised as I was.
"Stop!" Janet suddenly exclaimed, clapping her hands. "That's the end of this arrangement."
"We'll be heading to the next spot in ten!" She said and moved forward.
The team dispersed, yet Sam remained still. His fingers paused gently on my jaw, his gaze fixed on me.
For a moment, the space separating us seemed electrified, as if we had crossed an unseen boundary.
I suddenly recoiled, shattering the enchantment we had succumbed to.
"What was that about?" I insisted, speaking softly so that no one else would listen.
"What was that?" He reclined nonchalantly, yet there was an undeniable tension in his shoulders that he couldn't mask.
"That—" I made a vague gesture. "Anything that was."
I turned my gaze facing him.
"You're just imagining things," he remarked, although his tone lacked its usual confidence.
I moved aside, going past him to get a glass of water from the refreshment table. He chuckled and began to clap his hands.
My hands trembled, and I despised that he could impact me so deeply.
The following scene was outdoors, a simulated picnic illuminated by fairy lights hung in the studio.
We were seated on a blanket, with props spread out around us.
Sam's hand lightly touched mine as he reached for a faux wine glass. My skin tingles once more.
"You're silent," he observed, trying to maintain a soft tone.
"I'm attempting to concentrate," I responded.
"On which?" "Acting like you're not interested in kissing me?"
I turned my head sharply toward him, prepared to retort, but his look surprised me. I don't want to look at him at the moment.
He wasn't grinning. His gaze was gentler, his playful facade peeling back slightly to reveal something else, something genuine.
"You're unreal," I whispered, facing the camera again.
The photographer instructed us to change our pose, this time with Sam reclining on the blanket, his head supported on my lap.
I paused, but he made himself comfortable as if it were the easiest thing ever. Then he takes a balance.
With his eyes shut, I took a moment to examine him with a careful look.
The sharp contours of his jaw, the subtle line between his brows—it all seemed overly personal.
"You're gazing," he whispered without opening his eyes.
"Quit talking," I retorted, even though my tone was dull and not smooth.
As the shoot continued, I discovered that I was starting to relax despite everything.
His teasing mellowed, and amid the drinks, we ceased to feign. At the very least, I did.
"Last pose!" the photographer declared. "Lisa, bend down as if you're going to kiss him." He said and moved closer, showing some signs of adjustment. He's using one eye while closing the other eye at the moment.
I stood still. "What did you say?" I asked.
"That's merely a pose," Janet shouted from the other side of the room, her voice exasperated.
Sam opened his eyes and looked into mine. "It's merely a stance," he reiterated, although his tone was softer.
I bent down, my hands shaking as they lay on the blanket next to his head.
His breath intertwined with mine, and all at once, the room seemed excessively warm.
"Get closer," the photographer insisted.
I moved closer, my face mere inches from his. The surroundings faded into a blur, and for an instant, it seemed less like performing.
His lips opened a bit, his eyes darting to my lips.
"Lisa," he murmured, so quietly I nearly overlooked it.
And then the lamps extinguished.
Literally. The studio was engulfed in darkness, abruptly ending the moment. A curse was shouted, followed by the noise of hurried footsteps.
"What on earth?" Janet's voice pierced the disorder.
An instant later, a thunderous bang resonated from somewhere behind the scenes.
My heart raced into my throat as the earth below us appeared to tremble.
"Did we just experience an earthquake?" someone inquired, alarmed.
"No, that seemed like—"
Just as they were about to complete, the emergency lights activated, illuminating everything in an unsettling red light.
I looked at Sam, who was already upright, his body rigid.
"What is happening?" I inquired, my voice trembling.
"I'm not sure," he replied, his look serious.
A different crash echoed, nearer now, succeeded by the unmistakable noise of shattering glass.
"Everyone, leave the building!" Janet yelled, her voice soaring above the turmoil.
Sam took my hand, yanking me up to stand. "Let's go," he stated, his voice unwavering.
We made our way to the exit, the atmosphere heavy with tension.
As we approached the doors, however, something or someone impeded our way.
The figure was obscured in the faint light, yet the shine of a weapon in their grasp was unmistakable.
"Stay still," the figure commanded, their tone icy and piercing.
I took a deep breath, my heart racing. Sam's hold on my hand became firmer, and for the first time, I noticed genuine fear in his eyes. What trouble are we in now?
"What should we do next?" I spoke softly, my words hardly noticeable.
His jaw tightened, and he looked at me, his face inscrutable. "We adapt on the fly." Calm down for a moment. He Said, my body shivering.