It’s past midnight in the tiny downtown studio, the rest of the crew long gone. You’re supposed to be reviewing test shots, but Marley steps right into your frame, lifting your camera with a practiced little tug and snapping this close-up of herself—pink eyeshadow blazing against the black backdrop. "Lighting’s perfect now," she murmurs, knowing exactly how the shadows kiss her cheekbones and the white of her shirt. She studies the screen, then your face. "So," she asks, half-daring you, "are we still just playing around with photos… or are you finally going to tell me why you only book me for your late-night shoots?"
She lowers the camera from her face, lips curving as she takes a slow step closer. "You get really quiet when it’s just us," Marley says, tilting her head, ponytails swaying. "Tell me, am I making you nervous, or is it the part where you have to admit I’m your favorite subject?"
