The Line Between Us - Alejandro Balde Love Story

Chapter 6: Close Quarters

The next morning brought with it the familiar chaos of a photoshoot. Bright lights, stylists darting around, and the hum of constant chatter filled the air. The set was a mix of high fashion and controlled frenzy, everyone focused on getting the perfect shot. I was scheduled for a series of editorial photos, my first major spread in Barcelona, and I was determined to prove myself.

I stretched my arms, trying to shake off the lingering awkwardness from yesterday's brunch with Berta. As much as I wanted to put Alejandro out of my mind, his smug smile and casual arrogance were still etched into my memory.

"Isa, you're up!" the photographer called, pulling me from my thoughts.

I stepped onto the set, the backdrop a sleek mix of city architecture and moody lighting. I'd done this a hundred times before, but today, my nerves were on edge. I took a deep breath, letting my shoulders relax, and focused on the task at hand.

The first few shots went smoothly, the camera clicking as I moved through different poses. The photographer gave me quick nods of approval, which helped settle my racing thoughts.

"Looking great, Isabella. Let's take it up a notch. A little more intensity in your eyes," the photographer called out, adjusting the angle of the lights.

I nodded, shifting my expression. The weight of the camera's lens felt heavier today, but I pushed through, determined not to let anything distract me.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone walking onto the set. No way. I could feel my heart drop as I recognized that confident stride. Alejandro.

Why is he here?

He was dressed casually, though still with the same effortless charm he always seemed to exude. He exchanged a few words with the director, then, to my disbelief, made his way onto the set.

"Perfect timing, Alejandro!" the photographer exclaimed, excitement in his voice. "We were just about to start the next sequence."

Wait, what?

I blinked, confused, as Alejandro came to stand beside me. He gave me a look, a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Looks like we're working together today, Isabella."

My jaw tightened. Of course. I should've known he'd find a way to make this more difficult.

"Don't look so thrilled," I muttered under my breath, keeping my face composed for the camera.

Alejandro chuckled softly. "You'd miss me if I wasn't here."

The photographer clapped his hands together, oblivious to the tension crackling between us. "Alright, we're going for a high-energy, dynamic shoot. Alejandro, you'll be with Isabella for this set. Think intensity, think chemistry. I want that push and pull."

Chemistry? Push and pull? I almost wanted to laugh at the irony. If only the photographer knew how much I wanted to push Alejandro right out the door.

The next few minutes were a blur of positioning and instructions. We were placed in close proximity, the heat of the studio lights adding to the already thick air between us. Alejandro was annoyingly good at this, moving effortlessly through the poses, his confidence only feeding into the tension.

"Closer," the photographer called out. "Isabella, I need more from you. Get into it. Alejandro, help her out."

My irritation flared, but I refused to let it show. Instead, I turned to face him, our eyes locking. The smirk on his face didn't waver, as if he knew exactly how to push my buttons.

"What's the matter?" he whispered just loud enough for me to hear, his breath warm against my ear. "Still mad about yesterday?"

"Maybe," I replied through gritted teeth. "But I've got more important things to worry about than you."

Alejandro tilted his head, eyes glinting with amusement. "Is that so? Because right now, you seem pretty focused on me."

I shot him a sharp look, but before I could respond, the photographer's voice interrupted. "Perfect, that's it! Hold it right there."

We were standing close—too close. My body was practically pressed against his, and despite the frustration boiling inside me, there was something undeniable in the air between us. The camera clicked again, capturing the moment, but my mind was far from the photoshoot.

Alejandro's gaze dropped to my lips for a split second, barely noticeable, but enough to send my heart racing. I refused to let him see the effect he was having on me.

"I'm just doing my job," I said softly, my voice laced with defiance. "You're the one who seems distracted."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Distracted? You think you're that distracting?"

I met his gaze, refusing to back down. "Maybe I am."

He chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly smooth. "I guess we'll see."

The photographer stepped forward, waving his hands in excitement. "That's it! Beautiful! I love the tension. Let's get a few more like that. You two have great energy together."

I bit my tongue, forcing a smile for the camera. If only he knew how much I wanted to wipe that smug look off Alejandro's face.

For the next few shots, we danced around each other, the photographer's directions fading into the background. It felt like Alejandro and I were in our own private battle, our bickering disguised as playful banter, but the intensity was real. Every word, every glance, was charged with a tension neither of us wanted to acknowledge.

Finally, the photographer called for a break. I stepped off the set, exhaling sharply, my pulse still racing.

Alejandro followed, standing a little too close as usual. "You alright, Isabella? You seemed a bit flustered back there."

I shot him a look, crossing my arms. "I'm fine. I just don't enjoy working with arrogant footballers."

He smirked, leaning in slightly. "Maybe you enjoy it more than you think."

I narrowed my eyes, refusing to let him win. "Don't flatter yourself, Alejandro. It's just a job."

"Sure," he said, the glint in his eyes not fading. "But it doesn't feel like 'just a job,' does it?"

Before I could respond, the crew called for us to return to the set. I turned away, not willing to let him have the last word.

As we stepped back under the lights, the tension between us was almost palpable, but neither of us acted on it. Not yet, anyway.