This was it. Your life was over. Your best friend, Alexander had said about someone he knew needing a model for a year long photography project. Of course, he'd volunteered you for the job. You had no idea who they were - all you were given was a ti...
I sighed, absentmindedly drumming my fingers on the table. My teacher was making her way around the class, talking to everyone about their work and the usual stuff. She was a kindhearted woman, Mar- I mean, Mrs Washington.
If she ever gave criticism, it was put in a way that didn't hurt anyone. And she was one of the few teachers you could tell anything in complete confidence. Everyone trusted her. Everyone.
"Thomas," she smiled brightly as she she sat next me at the table. I looked up and weakly returned the gesture. "Let's review this shoot, shall we?"
I pushed the contact sheets over to her."It wasn't my best..." I began.
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(A/N: I know that 2 images are the same and obviously not everyone looks like this but for the sake of the fanfic please just roll with it 😂)
"They're good images Thomas. There's no such thing as a bad image." She said reassuringly. "But I see why you might think that. What is it you don't like about them?"
"Well, I didn't enjoy myself. I don't like the model. We literally went into the studio, she posed, no talking - done in twenty minutes." I heard a snigger from John Adams who sat across from me. "Shut up." I laughed at him.
Martha smiled and rolled her eyes a little. "Anyway, I asked what you didn't like about the images - not the shoot. Now, if you ask me, they're too clinical, which reflects on the way you interacted." She explained.
"So... what should I do?" I asked.
"I say, you should get to know (Y/N) more. You're friends with Aaron so why not even hang out - all three of you, perhaps befriend her. It will be a lot less awkward and soon, it'll show." She smiled, handing my photos back. "Just think about it." She said before walking to help the next student.
I looked at the photos thoughtfully. My hand felt in my pocket for my phone and scrolled through my contacts.
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Oh boy, I'm gonna die...
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Phew! Thank... wait why am I typing still?!
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What the fuck am I doing?!
Code red!
Abort mission!
Oh god she's typing!
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"Fuck." I whispered, staring at the screen.
"What'd you do?" Adams asked, leaning towards me and resting on his forearms. I showed him the messages, making him laugh.
"What's there to worry about?" He asked.
"What's there to worry about? She hates me!" I responded. "And I don't like her." I added quickly.
"Hmm." He smirked.
"What?" I cocked an eyebrow at him.
"Three months I say." He said, picking up a pencil and going back to his sketchbook.
"Not you as well!" I slammed my head on the desk, causing my loose papers to float to the floor. "Ugh!"
"Huh?" He glanced up.
"James Madison said that to me as well and I have no idea what anyone means by it." I said, slightly exasperated. He chuckled at my expression - a mix of confusion and frustration - as I collect my stuff from the floor.
"You'll find out soon enough." He shrugged.
"How soon?"
"About three months." He chuckled, earning a felt tip pen to the head. "Hey!"
