A photographer with a secret blog and a pop star who's lack of a love life is ruining his career, team up to fulfill both of their wants. She gains popularity, stays out of prison, and also receives the not-so-bad byproduct: money; while he and his...
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"Fuck."
I look back at Julian before he disappears temporarily behind the fresh black t-shirt going over my head. "What's up?" I question as I struggle to keep my balance and slide my legs through my jean legs.
"We were supposed to leave thirty minutes ago. We have to be in Atlanta by seven tomorrow." He grumbles lowly as he stuffs his phone into his pant pocket. "You're ready right? If not, you're shit out of luck."
I roll my eyes and take the handle of my suitcase. "I'm ready. Am I ready for a three-month trip? No. But I'm ready enough."
He ignores my slight complaint and glances at me up and down before turning fully away from me and stepping toward the door. I follow after him, nothing else on my mind other than that his back looks nice in this jacket and he's walking pretty slowly.
"Oh," he turns back around, pausing in his tracks fully. "You have your camera, right?"
I stare at him blankly. In my mind, that's something I wouldn't forget. I don't leave my camera anywhere. Sure, I mostly take pictures of other people, but the world is just as beautiful. I refuse to miss the perfect photo op of the rain falling from the roof of a bakery at just the right angle, or when I'm up in the mountains at my 'office' and I see a fox wandering through the snowy flower field behind the cabin. There are so many beautiful things about the world other than revenge photoshoots and taking forty-million maternity pictures. Nothing wrong with that stuff, but I want to leave behind more than that; even if it's just a picture of a bird in its nest full of chicks.
"Of course, I have my camera. How else am I supposed to take your nudes?" I joke but my tone is flat and monotone.
He stares down at me with that usual hint of annoyance and amusement in his eyes and the corner of his lips. "Oh, you'll be taking more than shirtless pictures of me, Miss. Marlow. You're our brand-new photographer for the rest of this tour." He smirks down at me, his head cocked to the side and his eyes squinted just waiting for me to react.
"...Why?"
He shrugs, "why not? Don't you do more than take pictures of unsuspecting men while they sleep?" he quips.
I roll my eyes and shift my weight onto my suitcase. "Of course, asshole."
"Then we're all good. Let's go, pervert." He flashes an obviously phony and overly squinty smile before finishing his pathway out of my room.
I wheel my suitcase to my front as I run my eyes across the layout of my room one more time. I'm almost never home. I'm always out taking pictures or editing them up in the cabin or I'm out looking for somebody new, but right now, I'm already feeling oddly homesick. Maybe it's because I'm about to be on a tour bus full of people who I don't know yet I know they don't like me or it's because I'm used to my routine. I don't know, but it's happening now and I've gotta suck it up.
