Snap Happy (A Daniel Ricciardo story)

2: Opening Moves

"Uh hi, can I take your picture?"

Smooth Em, smooth. It wasn't quite the voice of the cool collected young woman that I was aiming for, more the wobbling squeak of a pubescent boy.

"Shit!"

The Aussie swore under his breath and a swiftly concealed frown of annoyance flickered across his face. As I stepped apprehensively into the light, I relaxed a little as his expression changed to a sheepish grin of relief. Not quite the famous beacon smile but it was a start.

"Sorry, I thought you were another bloody journo"

"If I was a journalist I'd have just taken the damn picture" I retorted, raising an eyebrow

"yeah, sorry" he grinned again. "it's just been a long night - so many questions, so many photos, so many...ties!" He removed the offending article from around his neck and loosened his shirt. "I just needed to escape for a bit"

"I know that feeling". He gave me an enquiring look but said nothing. "and now some bloody fangirl has gone and ruined that too right?"

"nahhhh, no worries, now where did you want that picture?" He moved towards me as if to take what must have been his 100th selfie of the day,

"Not with me" I shook my head. "Just there, where you were, you looked...." I searched for the right word "beautiful". Shit! Of all the words I could have used to describe a 6ft, athletic, on-the-limit racing driver 'beautiful' definitely should not have been one of them. Fortunately he didn't seem to have noticed, or if he had, he was too much of a gentleman to pick me up on it.

"Is this ok?" He half turned his body towards me, and gazed out across the water.

"Perfect" I breathed softly as I pressed the shutter.

"How about now?" He faced me full on and pouted, running his fingers through his hair and attempting to stare seductively down the lens as he did so. I laughed out loud and kept shooting, maybe it wasn't just the questions he'd had too many of tonight. 

"Well thanks so much...seriously...thanks" I stammered when he'd stopped posing "and sorry for disturbing you". I turned to leave but he called after me.

"Wait, you can't go until you've al least let me look at the photos"

He caught up to me and leaned over my shoulder as I turrned the screen on. Sure enough I could smell  the faint but unmistakeable aroma of alcohol on his breath, but it was overpowered by something far nicer. Fresh, masculine, a little intoxicating, I tried not to inhale too obviously, praying that he couldn't hear my accelerating heartbeat over the sounds of the night. 

"Haha what a beaut!" He covered his face at the sight of his own posing. Suddenly he reached forward and grabbed the camera, attempting to spin me towards him at the same time. "Your turn!" I wheeled round attempting to hide my face with my hands but the flash went off and it was too late. That smile was DEFINITELY wider now and there was a mischievous twinkle in those deep brown eyes. "Last one" and he threw his arm around my shoulder and pulled me in close, turning the camera on us both and pressing the shutter. 

We stood like that for what must only have been a second, but it was a second that I clung to, holding my breath, desperately begging it not to end. Having somebody that close to me again brought back another wave of bittersweet memories, and I swallowed back the lump that rose in my throat. He released me, and handed back the camera, his fingers brushing mine as he did so, sending chills throughout my body. "Best go eh, big weekend coming up and all that". I nodded wordlessly, unable to trust myself to speak, and started the walk back to my hotel.

"Hey! you never told me your name?"

"uh, Em-Emily Taylor" I stuttered.

"Send me those pictures Em-Emily Taylor". He winked, and I stepped back into the night.

DANIEL:

I watched her go, her long dress only serving to emphasise her tall frame, hell in heels she'd have been as tall as me if not more so, but I was sure I'd seen not stilettos but thongs poking out from under her skirt. Her hair looked like it had started the night as a passable imitation of a sleek bob, but soft curls were starting to escape round her cheeks and at the nape of her neck, betraying her natural waves. She wore fashionable lenses which made her eyes look even larger than they were, framed by long curling lashes, but as they reflected the marina lights they could have been grey, green, almost any colour in the spectrum.  Not your sterotypical 'beauty' to be sure, but the contrast between her and the artificial clones who tended to not-so-subtly threw themselves at my wallet only worked in her favour. In fact she was probably the most 'real' person I'd seen in a while, and I was curious to know what her story was. She looked young, almost girlish, despite her height, but I'd heard something in her voice which suggested that she was older than she looked, and weighed down by more than the SLR she was carrying. Mind you she clearly knew how to use that camera, and was talented too judging by the initial images. I've posed for a lot of pictures over the last couple of years but I don't remember ever seeing myself look like that. And then I'd gone and spoiled it.

"Shit!"

I cringed as I remembered the pouts and the poses, sure I'd had one or two but not THAT much -  I wouldn't have dared with such an important weekend fast approaching. I was just letting off a little steam, having a little fun after being suited and booted for so long, shaking hands with the masses of sponsors and VIPs. I'd made a complete idiot of myself. No wonder she seemed to tense up when I grabbed hold of her, I probably freaked her out BIG TIME. One timid and troubled Brit faced with an over-exuberant Aussie who'd been cooped up inside for too long...  I groaned as I made my way back to my apartment, I'd probably never see her again but I definitely owed her an apology. 

author's note: I deliberated for ages whether I should write in 1st or 3rd person, from one perspective or two, and I may still regret the decision I eventually made. All feedback/help appreciated PLEASE :)