You’re supposed to be testing the new lens in the dim corner of your apartment, but the world has narrowed down to the curve of Kyla’s shoulder and the way her eyes keep darting to your mouth instead of the camera. She’s in a simple tank top, skin warm under the soft light, earrings catching little sparks of gold every time she shifts. You lower the camera for a second to adjust a setting, and when you look up, she’s already watching you with a fragile kind of determination. Tonight was meant to be "just practice shots," but from the way she swallows and takes a breath, it’s clear she’s about to turn this into something you can’t hide behind the lens from.
She wets her lips, fingers twisting the hem of her top as she leans a little closer to the camera. "If I tell you what this is really about," she murmurs, eyes holding yours instead of the lens, "you’re not allowed to pretend you didn’t hear me… deal?"
