Cyn walked into the studio that morning, her camera case bouncing against her black ripped jeans and stripped lopsided t-shirt. The studio was already alive with life, her assistant Dox on a ladder as he adjusted the lights to just the right placement. Stepping down the ladder to look, then up again for another adjustment. Behind him she could see the handful of models with the make-up artists already powdering noses and painting eyelids.
One of the models in the back caught her attention. He was standing near one of the mirrors, waiting his turn and mostly blocked from sight by a large mirror, but she could see he was tall and slim, long black braids falling down his back and complimenting his dark skin which probably didn’t even need any makeup-
Cyn swore as her foot caught on the uneven warehouse floor and she stumbled, just barely catching her balance before she fell flat on her face. Dox looked down at her in question and she merely glared at him, stomping over to her section and pulling out her camera. She took a few test shots and gave him final instructions for adjusting the lights and setting.
Luckily Dox knew her well enough to not even consider bringing it up.
She was doing fine and had almost forgotten the incident until he stepped in front of her. Now he wasn’t blocked by a mirror and it was worse. Cyn swore she could feel her hand shaking as she looked over his long legs and the black leather kilt he was wearing. A simple tank top with various bracelets up one arm and a fishnet stocking on the oppisite leg - she forgot to take the pictures, just staring at him through the viewfinder until Dox lightly cleared his throat.
Cyn swore again under her breath and started taking pictures. She made a mental note to check for his name on the studio sheet once the shoot was over and maybe she could keep a couple of pictures-
Oh, and of course, she’d have to kill Fagan for selecting such a damn attractive model.
The shoot went on for longer than it should have. Honestly, she had a good photo by the second frame, but she couldn’t stop her finger from clicking away.
Snap.
Snap snap.
He was a natural, getting into poses with ease. Eyes narrowed in a seductive gaze, then wide and bright like the nice guy who carried books for his girlfriend. As he moved Cyn began to notice little details that only made him more appealing. The small dimples in his cheeks when he smiled. The way his braids moved with him at every turn of his body. The stunning marks of a tattoo on his arm that formed an ice blue dragon. The-
“Excuse me? I believe you’re out of film.”
Cyn blinked when she realized that the handsome young man in front of her was right. The last five poses hadn’t been caught on film at all. "S-sorry about that.“ Oh hell, was she actually stuttering? She was supposed to be professional.
"Was I doing that good of a job?”
“I… get lost in the moment sometimes.”
He smiled that gorgeous smile at her. Damn did it compliment his dark skin. "Any good photographer does.“ He approached her and held his hand out. "Haven.”
Ah, so that was his name. Haven. She reached forward and shook his hand. "Cyn. Nice to meet you.“
"Same to you. I hope we can shoot together again sometime.”
Before she could stop herself she smiled, suddenly feeling like a blushing schoolgirl instead of a photographer with years in the business. “Y-yeah, me too.”
“I’m also glad to see that you’re o.k. after your fall.”
“Huh?”
Haven nodded to the uneven part in the floor where Cyn had thoroughly embarrassed herself. Completely mortified, Cyn briefly considered mentally melting her body into the floor to avoid this situation.
“I… yeah, I… shit, you saw that?”
“Yeah.”
“A-ah… I’m usually not that clumsy.” Which was the truth. Clumsiness was reserved for heroines who defended the moon.
“It’s fine. It kind of distracted me anyway.”
“Distracted?”
Haven chuckled and whispered to Cyn, “I had been busy staring at you when you came in.”
Cyn would later curse herself for blushing so much, but currently, she was thanking whatever higher power above that she had remembered to put on Chapstick that morning. The worst thing about a first kiss was dry, stiff lips.
