writing prompts

not so model-esque model

Izzy pov

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Where's my camera?

I raced through my locker praying that I didn't leave it at home. By habit, I threw my tongue to the side of my mouth while throwing items (that should be in the trash) around.

After shuffling around for a few moments, my fingers hit the plastic of my Fujifilm X-S20 and a smile grazed my face. Now I need a model.

Anxiety warped around my neck like barbed wire at the fact that I'd have to walk up to greet someone. I consider myself friendly but others aren't so much.

As I venture into the winding corridors, a part of me eagerly anticipates stumbling upon someone, hoping it will aid me in completing my assignment. Simultaneously, another part of me secretly wishes for solitude, hoping to calm my jittery nerves.

The campus is on the larger side, so I definitely don't have time to go through each hall; not that there'd be many people anyway since the bell was bound to ring soon. My pace quickened as my efforts were proving unsuccessful. As I run through the hall, I see somebody in the corner of my eye.

As I approached the figure, I made a conscious effort to slow my pace, not wanting to appear overly eager or intrusive. With each step, I tapped my feet a bit louder, ensuring that I didn't startle them. The figure, a man, was bent down on one knee, tying his shoes with a focused intensity that made me hesitate, feeling as though I was encroaching on his private moment.

Just as I was about to retreat, a deep timbre echoed in front of me, pulling me back from the brink of retreat.

"Can I help you?"

As the stranger rose from his kneeling position, his towering presence loomed over me like Cumulonimbus clouds casting shadows in the autumn sky. His sheer height and imposing size caused a wave of unease to wash over me, leaving my palms clammy as I instinctively stepped back.

Taking a closer look, I noted his impressive stature, easily surpassing six feet in height. The black short-sleeve crewneck he wore hinted at his dedication to fitness, the fabric clinging to his muscular frame and accentuating the definition of his bulging biceps.

But it was his eyes that held me captive, their intensity piercing through the gloom of the surroundings like shards of ice in the Arctic landscape. In the dim light, they resembled pools of frigid water on the verge of thawing, adding an air of mystery and danger to his already imposing presence.

My heart thrummed.

I cleared my voice; restoring my parched mouth. "H-hi. This is random, but I was wondering if you'd let me take a few pictures of you. It's for my photography class so besides my teacher and I, no one else will see." my voice trails off as I peek through my lashes at his stoic expression.

His eyes shifted for a second before answering, "Not really the model type, but if you insist." He straightened his posture.

The man looked to me for direction, and I gestured towards the double doors leading to the school's garden, envisioning how his tanned skin would catch the sunlight and glisten like polished bronze.

As we made our way towards the garden, I couldn't help but notice the stark difference in our strides. His long, purposeful steps effortlessly outpaced my own, prompting me to try to catch up by skipping along, but it seemed he only quickened his pace, deliberately keeping me trailing behind. Letting out a small sigh, I stole a glance up at him, only to catch the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Resigning myself to lagging behind, we finally reached the doors, where he graciously held one open for me. With a soft "thank you," I stepped through, feeling a sense of warmth from his simple gesture of courtesy.

After some gentle persuasion, I finally managed to position him in the perfect spot, and my hypothesis was confirmed: his skin shimmered as if he had been frolicking in a field of glitter. Even under the unflattering glare of the bright white light, he still managed to exude an undeniable attractiveness. But it wasn't until I saw him bathed in the soft, natural light of the garden that I truly appreciated his beauty. He was perfect.

For my assignment.

Positioned amidst a vibrant array of Marigolds, Violas, and Hydrangeas, the stranger stood as a striking contrast to the colorful backdrop, his monochromatic attire complementing the kaleidoscope of hues surrounding him. It was the perfect setting, bathed in the gentle glow of the sun, casting a soft, flattering light that accentuated his features without being harsh.

As I snapped a few test shots to check my camera settings, I found myself captivated by the images on the screen. The once icy gaze that had held me at bay now sparkled with a sapphire brilliance, drawing me in with an irresistible allure.

But it was the discovery of the scars that truly captured my attention. Like delicate ballerinas in "The Nutcracker," they danced across his face, each one telling a story of battles fought and scars earned. The most prominent of them, a slender line running from the bottom of his nose bridge to his right eyebrow, held a particular fascination, leaving me to wonder about its origins and the tales it concealed.

Slightly nodding at my swoon, I start taking my pictures feeling guilty that I'm wasting his time. In the midst of taking the photos, "What's your name?" I said as gently as I could trying to mask my nervousness.

"Luciano." A certain lilt ran off his tongue but I couldn't pinpoint where the accent was from.
"I'm Izabella. With a Z," I chuckled while he only smiled. A smile that was brighter than the one he had walking here and I made sure to take a picture before it faded.

The clicking of the camera filled the area and thankfully, it was comfortable. After a while, we switched positions so now I can get some full-body images.

"Why am I your model?"

"Well, th-this is a last-minute thing. I for about the assignment and you were the first person I saw." I look above my camera at his irises. He straightens his posture.

"Why didn't you make yourself the model then? Eres bonita." His eyes had a tint in them.
[you're pretty]

The question took me by surprise. For a second, I imagined myself in the position he was in and inwardly cringed. I've also heard the word bonita before but as of right now, I have no clue what it could mean or the language. "I d-don't know."

Caught up in the thrill of capturing Luciano's essence through my lens, I was abruptly brought back to reality when he approached me. I held my breath, anticipation buzzing in the air as he drew nearer. "How many did you take?" he inquired, his voice gentle yet probing, stirring a flurry of emotions within me.

"Not...," I bite my lip and furrow my eyebrows at my impulse. Withholding a statement that could make him uncomfortable. "Not?" He questions with a slightly raised eyebrow. His eyes had something in them. Maybe endearment.

"Nothing. Well I got pictures of course, b-but I was going to say n-not enough; of course as a joke! I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable and thank you for being my model." I whisper hoping my sheepish smile wasn't off-putting. The corners of his mouth formed a smile that only made mine wider.

My eyes glanced at our surroundings. The variety of colors and crops was better than expected for a school.

As pretty as it was, the pollen began to circle my nose. Making a tiny sniffle, the man's eyes never left mine. Looking at me with an indecipherable look.

For some reason, probably a stupid reason, I grew confident. Not enough courage to hold eye contact, but enough to blurt what his number was. He had a shocked expression and I was just as surprised.

To my luck though, he told me. I tried to calm my nerves but I'm sure he saw my fingers tremble as they carefully pressed each number. As soon as he finished the last digit, the bell rang reminding me that I was officially late to class.

I waved bye before sprinting through the doors we entered from.

———-
This is honestly so bad, but I don't think I'll ever rewrite it so whatever.

Duration: 15 minutes