Point taken, Marlow.
Twenty minutes later, I’m standing next to Whit on top of the clock tower in downtown Rome, posing like I know what I’m doing.
“Okay,” Ashley says, circling us. “I want you both relaxed. Natural. I want you both to pretend you’ve known each other a long time.”
Whit glances up at me. “So what’s our story?”
“Our story?”
She flicks her blond hair over her shoulder as the camera keeps clicking. “Well, are we childhood friends, secret lovers, divorced with shared custody of a goldendoodle named Touchdown Mulligan because we couldn’t agree on a name?”
I tip my head back and laugh. “That escalated fast.”
She shrugs, glancing back at the camera, giving it a coy smile. “It’s important to commit to the bit.”
Ashley keeps snapping pictures. “There. That. More of that.”
When our eyes connect, Whit winks. “Relax,” she says. “You’re not my type.”
“That’s reassuring.”
Her mouth twitches as she tries to laugh, which sets me off.
Ashley starts clicking, moving around us slowly.
“Zach,” she says, not lowering the camera. “Shoulders.”
“They're down.”
“They are not down.”
“They're as down as they go.”
Without warning, Whit reaches up beside me, plants both hands on my shoulders, and forcefully shoves them down. She’s not gentle about it at all, and the surprise of it makes me laugh.
“There,” Whit says as her hands draw down my arms, smoothing across my skin. “That's down.”
“Yes,” Ashley says immediately. “Keep your hand there, Whit. Just like that.”
Whit keeps her hand on my bicep as she shifts her grip slightly. Her thumb drags across the muscle, her nails lightly scraping against my skin in a way that’s impossible not to notice. If she hadn’t already told me she wasn’t interested, I’d think she was flirting.
Either way, I ignore it. Ashley is happy with the shots, and that’s all that matters.
“Talk to each other,” Ashley says. “Don't look at me.”
Whit tilts her chin up toward me. “You're overthinking the posing,” she says, conversationally as though her nails aren’t still lazily circling my arms.
“I'm not overthinking it.”
“I can feel it.” Her thumbs press into my muscle slightly to make her point. “Your whole upper body is braced like you're about to take a hit.”
“Occupational habit.”
“Relax into it.”
Click. Click. Click.
“I love this,” Ashley says from somewhere behind the lens. “Keep doing whatever you’re doing.”
