A Photographer's Viewpoint

It Was Nice

L U C I E L

"Look more to the left."

Isabella does as I instructed. I bring the camera up to take the photo and notice her shirt was a little crooked and her hair a bit out of place due to the fan. I place the camera down beside me and get up from the floor.

She watches me as I approach her and lets her leg down from the stool.

When I stood in front of her, her eyes studied me with curiousity. They had a bit of a twinkle to them because of the lighting, making her look more like child. I reached out and brushed my fingers against her neck, her skin soft to the touch. I fixed the few strands of hair and gazed at her skin that was now revealed. My fingers trailed along her shoulder as I smoothened out the shirt and give it a small tug.

During the whole process, Isabella was silent and simply observed my actions.

Cute.

After about half an hour of taking pictures, we finished up. Isabella left the room to change while I cleaned up. I wasn't going to do any editing and simply placed the camera down on the desk.

For some reason, she was oddly quiet. A bit too quiet to be exact. Eversince she arrived she hardly said a word and only answered when it was necessary. I tried to start a conversation multiple times but she wouldn't answer and her eyes were always fixated on the floor. I knew she wasn't doing it on purpose and assumed she must've had something on her mind. I tried to ask her about it but my efforts went for naught.

Maybe it was work related? If that's the case, then I really don't have any right to ask her about it. I mean, she's a lawyer and it wouldn't be right of her to disclose information regarding her client to an outsider.

But if that wasn't the case, what was it exactly? Isabella only tells me so much about herself so I really can't think of other possible reasons to explain her grim expression. Maybe it was her mother's doing? She only told me so much about her but I realized I definitely wasn't a fan of the woman.

"Hey, Luciel."

My eyes widen with shock when I heard her voice, she didn't utter a word for quite a while so she caught me by suprise. I look up from the desk and see Isabella leaning against the doorframe with her hand clutched on her arm. She was now wearing a gray hoodie and sweatpants, her hair still the same as before.

"Yes?"

For some reason I felt nervous. I couldn't make out what was going through her mind with her penatrating gaze and with my hands clutched in fists for dear life, sweating profusely. Don't get me wrong, she didn't look mad but she didn't look the happiest either.

For a few seconds we both didn't say anything and only had a staring contest, at least, I think that's what it was.

"I was awake."

"Awake?" I repeat her question.

Luckily, my voice wasn't shaky or held any hint of nervousness. Simply because I was confused. I had an idea to what she was reffering to but I wasn't going to take the bait just yet, I had to be sure. So, I popped another question:

"You mean when I carried you to bed?"

She scoffed with my reply and slowly made her way towards me. Next thing I knew, she was standing right in front of me with her head held high.

Her scent tickled my nose, making it harder for me to keep up my composure. Not to mention the view I have of her looking up at me with her eyes filled with determination and her arms crossed over her chest.