Page 80 of Faux Real
“Do you want me to smile for the camera or shall I give you a morebroodingglare?” he teases, adjusting the lapels of his leather jacket.
I roll my eyes. “Just stand sideways and pretend that you’re thinking about something complex, I know that might be a challenge for you, but try.”
Oliver casts me a playful glare before following my instructions. I pull up the screenshots I took of the textbook for reference and begin shooting Oliver’s portraits, repositioning him every few clicks. Surprisingly, he takes direction much better than I anticipated.
I might just get an A after all.
“I think I’m going to edit them into black and white,” I say, flipping through the fifty or so photos I snapped. “But the lighting looks good.”
“It’s not the lighting, love,” Ollie says, peering over my shoulder, his breath tickling my neck. “It’s me.” I lightly jab my elbow into his kidney, suppressing a grin. “Okay, it’s the lighting, Christ, you’re aggressive.”
“Is there any shot you like in particular?” I ask, craning my neck toward him.
“Nuh-uh,” Ollie hums, grabbing his film camera from the table before helping me turn off the studio lights. “If I were to help you that might be considered cheating, and I am a stickler for the rules.” He tosses me a wink. “Academic integrity and all that crap.”
I blink. “That’s hardly cheating, I just asked for your opinion.”
“You must submit a photo thatyouthink best representsme,” Ollie says, his eyes gleaming with humor. “Seeing as I am the subject, I’m not nearly objective enough to make that decision.”
“God, you’re annoying,” I grumble, shoving the camera back into the bag. “Everything’s a joke, isn’t it?”
“Life’s a joke, Kennedy!” Oliver says, handing me the lens cap. “We might as well laugh.”
“You’re in a real chipper mood today, aren’t you?” I ask, draping the camera over my shoulder. “What happened?”
“One of us needs to be,” Ollie says, holding the door open for me. “And seeing as you’re a bit frown-y today, I thought I’d step up and take one for the team.” He motions to the hallway. “Let’s get a move on, it’ll get dark soon.”
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, following him outside. He doesn’t respond as he speed walks out of campus. “Oliver! Where are we going?”
“To a park,” he says, waving me over. “Hurry up, the sun is setting.”
“It’s cold,” I complain, catching up to him. “You should’ve told me we were going to be outside, I would’ve brought a jacket.”
“You want mine?” Oliver asks, stopping at the crosswalk.
“No,” I whisper, tugging my cardigan over my chest. “I’m fine for now.”
“Well, let me know if you change your mind,” he says, crossing the street toward Hyde Park. “This way.” Oliver leads us down a dirt path toward a clearing past several oak trees. The setting sun illuminates the sky, its vivid colors complementing the scattered dried leaves on the ground. “Alright, we’re here.”
“Great,” I say, placing the camera bag on a tree stump. “Tell me what to do.”
“Oh, I will,” Ollie grins, taking two steps toward me. “First of all, this needs to go—” He curls his fingers around my hair tie and pulls it away, my hair falling down my face. He pushes back a strand, dragging his fingers along my temple. “Shake it out a little, love.”
“Like this?” I ask, shaking my head, my stupid heart battering in my chest.
“Perfect,” he smiles, his grey eyes flitting across my face. “One more thing—” He fishes out a napkin from his pocket, bringing it up to my lips.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“You don’t need this,” he states, arching down, his gaze locked on my lips as he carefully wipes off my lipstick.Oh, God. Forget.He takes a step back, tilting his head. “There, better.”
“Not a fan of the color?” I ask, swallowing back a ball of sudden nervousness.
“It’s a fine color,” he says. “But you don’t put a bumper sticker on a Bentley.”
I blink. “What—”
“Shall we get started?” Ollie interrupts me, clearing his throat. He takes the lens cap off of the Canon A1 and adjusts the settings. He glances up at me. “Relax, Kennedy, just act natural.”
