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one. | ❛OUR SOULS WERE SINGING.❜
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"WHY AM I HERE AGAIN?," Malia's close friend, Joanna, asked as she laid back in her chair, watching as her close friend set up her photography equipment. Her hands continuously moved, adjusting the lighting until it was near perfect. "For emotional support." Malia replied, when she nearly done with her endless adjusting. "I have pizza." Her friend announced.
"Pizza?" Joanna waved the pepperoni pizza slice in the air, taunting Malia. Her eyes followed the cheesy good in the air, placing down another another of her camera stands.
She follows in the direction of the pizza, drooling at the sight of it. Grabbing the greasy fast food from her friend's hand, she pulls a chair beside her, slumping down into it.
"I'm so nervous, Jo. He's like my first big client and what if I mess up? Or worse, what if the flash is too bright and I take out his eyes?" Malia cringed at the thought of blinding the poor boy. She felt embarrassed at her habit of overthinking the future. "Mal, you've been doing this since you were what? Thirteen? You've never been more prepared." Joanna comforted Malia as she pulls her in for a small hug.
"Besides, he's probably really nice. So you've got nothing to worry about."
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"Harrison, are you coming or not, mate?!" Tom shouted as he searched for a plain shirt, readying himself for the gym. "Tom, I'm on the toilet, would you please give me a moment?!" Harrison answered his impatient friend. "There was something in that Thai food, I swear to you!"
Tom rolled his eyes, finally spotting a shirt. He placed it over his head, putting onto his nude chest. "Haz, I'm going to the gym without you!" Tom shouted back, his voice echoed across the house. His keys jingled in his hands, his feet carrying him out the door and to his car. He was off to the gym. When he arrived, he repeated his same routine; pulls up, combinations to the punching bag, etc.
After Tom had finished up at the gym, he rushed home to shower and look presentable for the photo shoot. An aggravated sigh bubbled in his throat as his dashboard showed it was half past noon, indicating he was late. Speeding up a little more than supposed to, he was merely a couple minutes from the studio's location.
He parked his almost brand new car outside the small, but official building. His body fled inside the empty lobby. His hand flew across the paper, signing himself in and waited for someone to tell him where to go.
Joanna heard the door bell chime, releasing Malia from her hold. She walks into the grey walled lobby. High quality photos and art hung on the wall as well a white couch pushed against it. Her eyes spot an observing Tom Holland, widening at the sight of him.
