"So you've met?" Marcus asks,
"We were... introduced last night." You try to sound nonchalant about it, "Friend of a friend kind of thing. Nice to see you again, Stan." You shake his hand quickly and busy yourself by taking more time than was really necessary to finish up your organizing, all the while being hyper aware of everything happening behind you. The quiet tones of Sebastian's agent and Marcus discussing the order of the shoot and how long it would potentially take.
"Y/N," Marcus almost startles you when he gets your attention, "if you could get Mr. Stan set up--"
"Call me Sebastian, please." He insists, wrinkling his nose, "Mr. Stan is way too formal."
"Alright then, if you could get 'Sebastian' set up with his first ensemble and bring him up to speed on our plan for the afternoon, that would be great." Marcus dismisses any questions you may have had by turning back to his discussion with Ms. Brooks, leaving you standing awkwardly, nervously, wanting to be anywhere but here, looking at the man you shared an elusive night with and ran out on the next morning like some sort of slutty Cinderella.
You clear your throat, willing your voice to be steady,
"Of course, right over here... Sebastian." Just saying his name makes you feel giddy as a school girl, you would stuff your hands in your pockets if Amy had ever shown up with the bag you talked her through packing for you. Instead you settle for clasping them behind your back to settle their shaking, trying to suppress the blush threatening to creep in from your extended walk of shame.
"You don't have to worry about this." He whispers, low enough that your boss and Ms. Brooks don't hear, "I can be professional. This is just a photo shoot, and I'll be sure to keep it that way."
Though you're grateful for his attitude toward the situation, you feel guilt settling in the pit of your stomach again.
"We were thinking this would be your first outfit," you speak just loud enough that you know Marcus can hear you, "nice and casual, then we'd work our way up into more formal looks." You continue your 'tour' as though you hadn't heard him until you're sure that Marcus isn't listening.
"Thank you." You whisper quickly, and so covertly he almost misses it, but you can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, so you miss the halfhearted smile he offers.
"Alright, shall we get started?" Marcus says with a clap. You pass the first outfit to Sebastian and direct him to a makeshift changing area near the corner.
For the next two hours, you were Marcus' runner, adjusting lighting, changing out belts or jackets as his vision for the shoot changed, and swapping out lenses and cameras to keep him from having to pause when he got on a roll.
"Hey, girli-o, sorry I'm so late-, oh... and that I'm interrupting." You spin around to see Amy, standing in the doorway, looking sheepish, your backpack slung over her shoulder.
"I'm so sorry Marcus, can I just take a minute?" We waves you off with a long suffering sigh,
"We should probably take five as it is."
With a quick thank you, you drag Amy into the hall as she passes you your backpack,
"So?" she whispers once the two of you are out of the room,
"So what?"
"I saw you leave the party last night with Sebastian, and then you call me this morning needing a change of clothes? You know I'm going to want details, and soon!" You roll your eyes at her,
"Even if I could remember, I wouldn't talk about it." You head to the bathroom to finally get out of your dress,
"That bad? Or that good?" She asks with a wink
"That stupid." You mutter, pushing into the bathroom.
.
.
.
Amy leaves as soon as the two of you have made plans for the weekend, and you get back to work, more comfortable now that you're not so dressed up. The rest of the evening doesn't take too long, and by the time you're all getting hungry, Marcus announces he has what he needs.
"Great work," he thanks Sebastian, shaking his hand, "I gotta admit, after a day of screaming children and diva graduates, it's nice to have a subject that can take direction."
"Hey, no problem."
"Alright, Sebastian, I'll be waiting in the car while you change. And be quick, reservations at 8."
You're packing up the cameras and lenses across the room when Sebastian heads back into his changing area, but when he pulls the curtain closed behind him, he doesn't notice that it gets stuck, the one-foot-wide gap giving you a great view of his back as he strips off his shirt. You know it's unprofessional, not to mention rude, but you can't tear your gaze away as the muscles in his back shift and flex. In the lighting, you're not quite sure you are actually seeing what you think you're seeing, but then you feel the raging blush color your face all the way down your neck when you spot the thin pink scratch marks stretching across his shoulder blades.
You hear his belt buckle rattle and finally force yourself to turn around. You arrange and rearrange the light stands and their umbrellas until you hear someone clear their throat behind you.
"Hey." Sebastian smiles,
"Hey." You shuffle your feet a bit, feeling awkward
"Can I ask you something?" he says, finally breaking the silence,
"Maybe."
"This morning, if you hadn't been in a hurry..." He cuts himself off, rethinking his words, "You seemed hell-bent on getting out this morning, and it felt like it was more than just being late for work..."
"Yeah, that's really a long story."
"Maybe something we could discuss over coffee?" He prompts. You look hesitant. "Do you not drink coffee?" he laughs, "We could go out for tea, or beers... We could chat over the water cooler." You look around,
"What water cooler?" He shrugs,
"We could find a water cooler somewhere." You chuckle,
"Not sure you really want to open that door. I just-"
"Sebastian, we really have to get going." Ms. Brooks reappears at the door, cell phone glued to her ear, seemingly in the middle of diffusing some situation elsewhere. You keep quiet, hoping he will head out and let it go, but he doesn't budge. "Stan, we're running late, I need you in the car like now."
He still doesn't move, staring you down. You almost want to accept just to get him moving.
"Dinner. Saturday night." He insists.
"Stan, come on!" His agent looks about ready to blow a fuse as she whispers hurriedly to whomever she is talking,
"Fine. Just go, you're gonna kill your handler over there." The smile he flashes you makes your knees go weak, and he winks as he runs out with his agent, never losing his smile, even as he gets what looks like an earful from her.
Marcus sidles up beside you,
"Did you just-"
"Yup..."
"A date..."
"Yup..."
"With him?" You sigh, rubbing your face,
"Yup."
