“Oi!” he exclaimed, steadying her. “If all the beautiful ladies are going to be falling at my feet today, I might just have the best day ever!” His playful tirade was cut short by a familiar voice.
“Jessica!” Mrs. Davison, their history teacher, stood nearby, a warm smile on her face. “Jessica, dear, you look wonderful! I’m so pleased to see you eating something healthy. It’s doing you good, and it seems you’re acquiring a few admirers too!” She winked knowingly.
Jessica, mortified but secretly pleased, managed a weak smile. She retreated back to her chair and began to eat, her appetite surprisingly robust. Maybe, just maybe, this afternoon wouldn't be a complete disaster after all.
Emily, Jessica, and Mike eventually rocked up at the studio after lunch. Jess was buzzing, totally full of beans. She was positively blooming, all smiles and energy. Emily, though, was starting to get proper doubts. The more she clocked Mike, the more confused she got. How did he know all this camera gear? Where did he learn to set up backdrops and lighting like that? His instructions for Jess were bang on, so clear and pro. And where had he got the studio from? And the clothes! Emily would have totally rocked any of those outfits herself. They were so on-trend, wicked even.
Mike, meanwhile, kept glancing at Emily. Sure, he was telling Jess where to stand and what to do with her face, but his head was elsewhere. Last night, he'd dreamt they were, well, getting it on. She was touching him, he was touching her. And now, just looking at Emily, at her lips, he felt himself getting, you know, a bit flustered. He was genuinely happy about the whole charade, this website thing, the job of getting Jess to come out of her shell, to feel good about herself, to believe in herself and, most importantly, to just bloody eat. But the real kicker, the thing that kept him going, was that he and Emily were supposed to be a couple, even if it was just for this storyline.
“Right, Jess, love,” Mike said, snapping back to reality, “let's try a few shots with the denim jacket. Emily, what do you reckon, should we go for high-key lighting or something a bit moodier?”
Emily, jolted out of her thoughts, stammered, “Um, high-key's probably good, yeah? Makes the jacket pop more.” She tried to sound confident, but inside, she was a mess. “Pop? What even is pop?” she thought. This world was so alien.
Jess, striking a pose, chipped in, “High-key's ace. Makes me look, like, glowing. Is my hair alright?”
“Hair's mint,” Mike reassured her. “You're looking great all around. Just relax, yeah? Imagine you’re walking down the street, feeling like a million dollars. Own it, Jess!”
Later, during a break, Emily pulled Mike aside. “Mike,” she said quietly, “where did you learn all this stuff? And where did you get this place?”
Mike shrugged, trying to look casual. “Oh, you know, just picked it up. Always been into photography. And the studio… let's just say I know someone who owes me a favour.” He winked, hoping she wouldn't press him.
Emily wasn't convinced. “That's a bit vague, isn't it? And those clothes… they're designer. Don't tell me you “picked them up” too.” She couldn't help the slight edge in her voice. She was starting to feel seriously out of the loop.
Mike sighed inwardly. He was trying to keep things simple, but Emily was too sharp. “Look,” he said, lowering his voice even more, “it's a bit complicated. Just trust me, yeah? It's all part of the plan. The website's paying for everything. Think of it as, like, a sponsorship deal for Jess.”
