Paparazzi Girl

1. Flash, Camera, Smile

Flash, camera, smile.

Once again, flash, camera, smile.

People hurdling around just to get a quick shot. That's all Xavier Harrington had known since he was thirteen. A simplistic boy from the Bronx who had a dream and it came true within the blink of an eye. He was forever grateful. He was forever surrounded.

Flash, camera, and a smile. He squinted his eyes to see through the blur, trying to ignore the way they made his eyes sore. He slipped on his sunglasses, grinning as he found a small group of girls fan and squeal his name.

All Xavier was planning to do was to go buy a decent meal from his favorite cafe a few blocks from where he was staying. Why so many paparazzi were following behind him when nothing big was happening - he couldn't comprehend but he had learned to get used to it. Not much could bother him anymore. He couldn't be bothered by this after a few years of it going on, since it was a major part of becoming a celebrity. It was like a part of who he was now. Everybody wanted to know what he was doing, even when he wasn't doing anything even remotely interesting. He found himself boring more than half of the time.

Flash, camera, smile. And then the girl appeared behind the flash of her camera.

The girl. That girl.

Flash.

The girl.

Camera. Smile.

That paparazzi girl.

She was everywhere, everywhere he went - she just followed, never skipping a beat. How she knew so much about his schedule and where he would be, he wondered all the time. She had begun following him about two months ago after one of his charity cases in Washington. Since then, every time he left a city, she went along with him. From Paris to Washington to his recent set in California.

When he had first seen her, he didn't really think twice about her. A girl with a camera and a dorky smile. He'd seen enough pretty girls throughout his career to know that maybe she wasn't the most attractive. But over time, he'd noticed how she was actually prettier than he'd thought at first. She was intriguing, kind of interesting. Interesting enough that he couldn't stop staring at her right now. That camera dangling from her neck always gave her a certain look he liked. Dedication - dedication to him?

And since his realization, he would always notice the way her blonde hair flowed in heat styled waves, barely scraping against her shoulders. And the way her left eye lowered to her camera so she could get the perfect picture. And the way she walked clumsily, probably from the blur of the flashes also. She wasn't too different from him. At least the image he made of her in his head - she wasn't too different from him. That image he had made of her in his head kept him up at night frequently.

He never really talked to her except for when she asked him questions any other paparazzi would ask him, which wasn't quite that often unfortunately. She was more a camera person than a talker. He didn't know anything about her, but she practically knew everything about him. Who didn't, really? And right now, there she was, a part of the crowd. So why was she all he could see? Even through the blur of the flashes. Even when there were prettier girls screaming his name.

She was wearing a pair of navy blue skinny jeans, which fit perfectly on her frame. Her blouse was white and loose and it made certain things appear bigger than usual. Her shoes were always white, he had noticed not a while ago. Heels, tennis shoes, flip-flops.

Why didn't he think she was pretty before?

He wasn't sure about her eye color, but he knew they were light. He knew for a fact that they weren't brown. Blue, maybe green?