She strides down the runway, a perfect picture of elegance and grace. She poses at the end as the cameras flash, an easy smile on her face, and once they are done, she struts back to the curtain.
Backstage, however, is another story. It's chaos back there, sheer pandemonium as designers, makeup artists, and members of the stage crew run around, shouting instructions.
"Lily! There you are! You're on again in five minutes!" Marlene, her harried makeup artist, seizes her arm and drags her towards her changing booth.
Lily sighs. "I haven't eaten anything in six hours!" she complains. "Can't I just have a energy bar or something?"
"No time. We have approximately four minutes and fifty two seconds for you to get changed and do makeup and hair."
Lily groans, but she can't protest. She has no energy to do so.
Click click. James takes five photos in rapid succession as the model strikes a pose and lowers his camera as other shutters sound around him. It's hot, it's competitive — James's favorite atmosphere. He thrives in these conditions.
He swipes through the photos and pauses as he reaches the bunch with Lily Evans in them.
Lily Evans — the sun is in her smile, the rarest emeralds in her eyes, and he's seen her at local charities when he does reports on them. She's just so kind, so sweet, so utterly amazing and flawless.
And oh god, does she look like a vision in these pictures. Her poise, her charisma, her heart-stopping smile — it's a lethal combination, and she makes his heart race.
Another photographer tries to jostle him and James shoves back just as hard — he's not a pushover. He recognizes the rat-like face of Stephens and scrunches his nose.
"I didn't know they were allowing rats into the arena," he remarks, just loud enough that Stephens can hear it but quiet enough that no one else can hear him.
"Stuff it, Potter," Stephens growls, his lips curling into a sneer.
"Hm, I don't think I can do that, since I hate your guts and all," James muses aloud. "You know, Stephens, I saw an advertisement for plastic surgery and thought of y—"
He's cut off as Stephens drops his camera and launches himself at James, his face contorted with anger. James could've easily stepped aside, but he lets Stephens tackle him, because it's the attacker and not the attackee that gets thrown out.
"You're dea—"
Stephens's threat is cut off mid-sentence as the security guard shouts something and pushes through the sea of photographers.
"It's you again, Stephens, I should've known," the guard says, pursing his lips. "Honestly, I don't know why they haven't banned you from the shows."
James knows why, but he's supposedly the victim here, so he doesn't chime in. Stephens's sneer fades into a grim smile.
"I'm terribly sorry, sir," he says stiffly, "but Potter here was provoking me —"
"And it's Potter's fault, as usual," the guard sighs. "Even though you were the one who tackled him. Potter may run his mouth, but that doesn't mean you have to react to it."
James smirks as Stephens scowls. The guard helps him to his feet. "You okay, Potter?"
"I'm fine." For show, he rubs the back of his head. "It's definitely going to bruise, but no concussion."
The security guard scans him up and down and then turns his stern gaze back to Stephens. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to escort you out."
Stephens throws James a vicious look over his shoulder and James just lifts his eyebrows. I'm just that good.
Potter 10, Stephens 0.
James knows his rival means to seek revenge on him, but he doesn't expect it to happen so soon.
He's taking pictures of Lily Evans, his favorite model — there's no denying that he's utterly infatuated with her — when unexpectedly, he's pushed from behind. Hard.
He falls forward, face-plants into the ground, and he feels his nose break with a sickening crack. Pain shoots through it and he can hear the room fall silent.
His face burning, he lifts his face and gingerly touches his nose. He hisses — it's like fire is burning him.
And then, a voice slices through his pain-filled haze. "Are you okay?"
Her eyes are green, her hair is red, and horror floods through him as he realizes it's Lily Evans — Lily Evans who came down from the stage to help him up, ask if he is okay, and oh my god his first meeting with Lily Evans he has a bloody nose —
He mentally slaps himself. Get yourself together, man. Be suave and charming.
"I'm fine," he says, though it sounds more like "'M fibe."
"No, you're not," Lily says firmly and his heart skips a beat. "We need a paramedic —"
"Ahead of you, Miss Evans." The security guard comes forward with a medic a step behind. "You should go back on stage."
"I won't," she snaps fiercely. "I won't until I know he's okay. And where's that bloke who pushed him?"
Stephens. James had almost forgotten about the slimy rat-faced bastard. He wordlessly points to him, standing off to the side with a triumphant look on his face. Once, however, Lily rounds on him, the triumph melts to reveal fear.
While Lily chews him out, the medic tends to James's nose, dabbing some ointment on it and bandaging it. "This should hold it for a bit," he says. "Once you go home, wrap it again. Do you know how to wrap a broken nose?"
He nods distractedly, his eyes looking over the medic's shoulder. Stephens is cowering in fear and Lily is standing over him — he can't see her face, but it's probably upset — and pride swells in his chest.
God, he loves this woman.
Once Lily's done and Stephens is led away by another security guard, she walks over to James, her green eyes worried. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine," he says. It comes out as "'M fibe."
"I'm glad about that," she says warmly. "But just in case, I want you to have my number — just in case. I'm really sorry."
James wants to scream — giving him her number is unnecessary, and it's not at all her fault — but he can't say any of that, so he just nods dumbly.
"Here." She yanks him forward, nicks the medic's pen, and scrawls her number on his arm. "Call me."
James watches dazedly as she caps the pen, gives both him the medic another warm smile, and walks back on stage, leaving an entire audience gaping.
James makes a mental note to send Stephens a gift basket.
Assignment 3, Gardening Task 12 - Write a Celebrity!AU
WC: 1122
