“Can we do one that’s like . . .” I cross my arms and make my face a little serious.
“Sure,” Betsy says, though the impatience behind her eyes is making its presence known. I’m pretty sure she hates me.
“My darling Pi, you don’t need any more photos,” Eggo croons. “You’re a vision, radiance personified, a blight on professional models the world over. Besides, if you get any more pics taken, Betsy’s gonna have to run out to Snappy Snaps and buy another buttload of SD cards. You’re wasting all her fucking memory, pard.”
I flip him off, but don’t make any further efforts to fight it.
“We actually need to do some shots of you both together.” Betsy gives us both a look that lets me know she’s aware of the captain stuff but won’t say those words out loud.
She positions us in the centre of the backdrop roll. Eggo immediately hooks his arm over my shoulder and kisses my temple. The fucking flash goes off.
“Sorry, boys, that was just a lighting test. I don’t think it caught anything decent.” Betsy glances over at the screen. “Oh, alright. That’s pretty cute.” She spins the monitor around to show us.
My face is scrunched up in shock, but I’m laughing, and damn, it’s actually adorable. Totally not usable for promo stuff, but I already want to print it out and place it on my sideboard. Now that Georgia’s no longer in my life, I could do it. But Eggo wouldsee it every time he came over and . . . would he think it meant something deeper?
I mean, he’d be right.
“I’ll email you both a copy,” she says, smirking. She motions for us to move closer together before she snaps away again.
She takes pictures of us smiling, and pictures of us trying to appear intimidating, and all the while I’m enjoying the press of Eggo’s side against mine. Sometimes we stand back to back, as though we’re on the poster for a comedic but high-octane Hollywood blockbuster, and sometimes she has us pose like one of us is the groom and the other is the best man.
“That’s it, boys, a bit closer. A bit closer. Like you actually like each other,” she says, laughing. “We’re gonna do some silly ones now. Mostly for social media and stuff.”
Betsy motions for Lydia from the marketing department to come over. Lydia has a company iPhone and has been floating about all day filming behind-the-scenes bits and pieces for the ’Gram.
“Hey, boys,” she says, pointing the phone camera at us. In her other hand she holds a bunch of laminated A4 sheets of paper, fanned out so whatever’s on each one, we can’t see. “You need to pick a card and recreate the pose, okay?”
It sounds utterly stupid, but Eggo reaches forward and grabs the card in the centre. He shows it to the camera and then to me.
I internally remind myself we’re being filmed right now and I’m not allowed to swear, but holy fucking Christ on a titty-fucking bike do I want to swear.
The photograph has obviously been pilfered straight from a nineties JC Penney couple’s photoshoot. There’s a woman in the centre of the photo being lifted into the air by a man. Only they’re both facing the same direction. Her legs are wrapped around his thighs and her arms are spread out wide like Kate Winslet on the bow of the fucking Titanic. Both of the people arewearing jeans up to their nipples and staring dead-eyed into the camera.
“What the f-fudge sticks?!” I say, but Eggo is already pissing himself at the idea, and I can’t help but laugh along.
“I’m the dude,” he says, rushing into position on the backdrop roll. “You’d never be able to lift up my bulk with those puny winger muscles.”
“Fine, but have you thought about what parts of our bodies will be touching each other?”
Eggo’s smile drops faster than an elephant on a trampoline. “Oh, shit,” he mouths.
“Right? And we’re just wearing our very thin, very revealing kit shorts. Try not to get too excited.”
“We’ll have to cut that bit,” Lydia says, assuming I’m messing around with Eggo and not genuinely suggesting that he should avoid getting a boner. Suddenly I remember why we’re all standing here in this photo studio with an iPhone pointed at us, and attempt to apologise silently with my expression. “It’s fine, we’ll chop it down anyway, and maybe loop some music over it. You’re good.”
Eggo slides up to my rear and I jump, tucking my legs either side of his. His dick presses right against the seam of my shorts as he wraps his arms around my chest and I hook my feet up by his butt cheeks. Lydia steps back, and Betsy snaps a few shots. I try to stare into the lens with my most serious American-mall expression, but behind me Eggo’s giggling like a school kid.
“Little more fierce, Finn,” Betsy calls out.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Dan approaching, with Abs in tow laughing, and then I hear it. Someone is holding their phone aloft, and on the highest volume setting is playing “My Heart Will Go On” by Celine Dion.
Chapter 5
Finn
Tuesday 4th May 2027
“Boys, a moment with you both.”
