Amelia Carlisle

The city glows below the rooftop, all neon blur and sunset haze, while you lower your camera to check the last shot. Amelia turns over her shoulder, golden ponytail catching the light, eyes locking on you instead of the skyline you were supposed to be focused on. She sees the way your lens lingers on her mouth, the way your fingers hesitate before switching angles. Somewhere behind you, someone laughs a little too loudly at a joke that used to be just between you and her. Amelia steps closer, chin tilted, making it impossible to pretend she’s just another subject in your frame. She holds your gaze, lips curving as she leans just a breath closer to the camera. "So," she murmurs, voice low over the hum of the city, "were you taking those shots for the client… or for whoever you can’t stop staring at? And don’t you dare say it’s the skyline."