You were freaking out.
Okay, ' freaking out' might've been an understatement. You were down right panicking .
And it had every thing to do with one Laura Hollis and the word 'date' .
Carmilla Karnstein didn't panic . Especially not over a date, possibly not-date.
But It was currently Friday. The Friday.
Laura was supposed to meet you at the gallery at one.
You weren't actually supposed to work that day, but you texted Mattie the second you made plans with Laura and told her that you needed to finish up some work and that you would be holed up in the office all day. And that's where you were. You came in early to at least try and go through the several profiles you had piling up at the corner of your desk, but no work was actually getting done. Unless you called cleaning your lenses methodically for the past two hours while staring blankly at the spread of printed film strewn across your desk " work ".
Your mind wouldn't shut the hell up with, " was this an actual date? " " did she just mean 'date' in a casual way? " " were you supposed to get her something? " " should you leave your shirt tucked in, or untuck it? ". It was just a constant cycle of second guessing every little thing and nitpicking through Laura's texts that you had memorised to try and decipher whether or not you were supposed to be going on a date -date with the barista you were crushing on.
And maybe you were going absolutely insane because of it.
Before you knew it though, Mattie was knocking on your office door, breaking you from your thoughts (and scaring the absolute shit out of you), and pushing a tiny brunette in through the doorway with a roll of her eyes.
In a second you were out of your chair, your glasses thrown from your face, and you were trying to shove all of the pictures back into their respective folders, but your hands were suddenly shaking and you could feel Laura's eyes on you as you fumbled with print after print, trying not to crumple them in your haste. When you looked up though, she was smiling gently and waiting patiently just inside the door, her hands fiddling nervously with the strap of her bike helmet hanging from her fingers.
You cleared your throat, ignoring the small expanse of skin above her belly button that her shirt wasn't made to cover, and how she had actual fucking abs that you would give anything to just run your fingers down.
"Sorry, I just have to put this away and we can head out there. I could've sworn it was just 11 o'clock." You were surprised you could form an actual coherent sentence with actual coherent words.
"Take your time, I'm actually a little early."
You chanced a glance at the clock and saw that she was, in fact, a whole 20 minutes early. You smirked.
"A little? What'd you do, speed pedal over here just to see me?"
She huffed out a laugh before replying with, " no ," but the slight lilt in her voice and the way she was avoiding your gaze told you otherwise. You did your best to hide your smile by ducking your head and focusing on the prints in your hands. You were putting the last of the photos into the file folder and grabbing your camera when Mattie knocked on your office door again, causing Laura to jump slightly. You found it adorable.
"Mother's on line two, kitty. She said something about you doing the shoot for her fall issue?" You rolled your eyes, making sure to sigh loud and obnoxious.
"Well, she's lying because I told her ' no ' when she asked me during the last shoot I did for her. Tell her I'm busy." You made to grab your camera again, but paused when Mattie continued.
"You know she'll just call your cellphone if you don't answer." And with that she strode out into the hallway, but not before calling , "And I'm not your secretary, your highness !" over her shoulder. You waited for the click of the door at the end of the hall to release the frustrated groan from your throat.
"I'm sorry, I have to-" you gestured toward phone with one hand, the other resting over the receiver as you addressed Laura with an apologetic smile. "It shouldn't take long, promise."
"Please, it's no problem, this is your job. Take as long as you need." With a nod of your head, you picked up the phone and put it to your ear before pushing the button for ' Line 2 ' as Laura took a seat in one of the chairs on the opposite side of your desk. She made to grab for one of the portfolios you had sitting on your desk, but stopped herself and looked to you for approval before simply taking it. You smiled, and with another slight nod of your head, she quickly opened the book as if you might change your mind before she had a chance to actually get a look.
Turning to face the window that ran along the entire back wall of your office, you answered your mother's call.
"Maman."
"Now, is that tone any way to greet your darling mother, Mircalla?"
"Je suis avec un client, pouvons-nous en parler plus tard?"
"Funny, because Matska told me your schedule was free."
"Elle est un walk-in."
"Ah, so not one of the gallery's clients, then. Surely I'm more important than one of your little pets , dear."
"Maman, s'il te plait!"
"Okay, okay, I just would have thought that maybe this little phase of yours would be over by now, but I suppose I was wrong. It's been awhile since that one girl, I've seem to have forgotten her name, forgive me for thinking that you have moved on. Anyhow, I do need you to photograph a few models for the fall issue of the magazine coming out next month."
"Je t'ai déjà dit que je ne pouvais pas le faire."
"Yes, you did, didn't you. Well, see the problem is, this was never a matter of whether or not you were going to do it, this was a matter of when, and now that you have avoided the situation entirely, I was forced to schedule it for you. You will be on location in no more than an hour. We're shooting on the roof this year. Do not disappoint me, Mircalla."
"Attends maman, je ne peux pas aujourd'hui, j'ai-" And then the line went dead. " Fuck ." At least you were right about it not being a long conversation.
"Everything okay?"
"Um, look- " You were ready to tell Laura that something came up, but before you could get the words out, you were struck with an idea. "Actually, you wanted to see what I do, right?" At Laura's nod and raised eyebrow, you continued, "How do you feel about a field trip?"
You admit, having a girl you actually really like meet your mother this soon (or at all, for that matter) was absolutely terrifying, but you also couldn't bare to think about sending Laura back home. You wanted to spend time with her. You wanted her to know you. But now, taking an elevator to the roof of your mother's building, camera bag in one hand, tripods strapped to your back, and backdrop duffel at your feet, you were having second thoughts.
Your mother could be brutal. You suppose that was how she got to be the biggest media mogul on the east coast, but it didn't earn her any brownie points in the slightest where being a mother was involved. You were practically raised by Mattie until she left you and Will to go study abroad in London and Paris and Berlin the second she got the chance. You were happy for her, sure, but you never quite forgave her for leaving you to take care of your kid brother when you were barely a teenager yourself. You grew up too fast, in a world where being a kid should have been cherished - your only resolve, when your mother would leave for weeks at a time, hiding the fact that her marriage was falling apart behind business trips to Morocco, and your nanny would allow you to be whatever you wanted.
As the elevator doors dinged open and Laura immediately grabbed the duffle bag at your feet, you were forced back to reality by how chaotic doing a photoshoot for Morgan Magazine could be.
After giving Laura strict instructions to stay close to you, you went off in search of your mother (making sure to steer clear of where the models were getting ready in makeup chairs and behind dressing dividers, just in case a certain ex was present), which ended up being less of a search and more of a quest to get her attention - much like most of your childhood. You ended up finding her in the middle of the chaos, on the phone, yelling about fake leaves because apparently using real ones was unacceptable for an October issue when they all looked dead. Still on the phone, she shooed you to a corner of the roof to set up your equipment, not even noticing Laura behind you.
In fact, she didn't notice Laura at all until your mother literally ran into her, sending Laura stumbling into your arms, while your mother demanded coffee and an aspirin. Which was how you ended up introducing Laura to your mother with a, " She's not your assistant, mother, this is my friend, Laura." You only know she heard you because she hummed, raised her eyebrow, and from behind the black rims of her glasses, looked Laura up and down like she was in the running at the Westminster Kennel Club for best in show before she set off to find her actual assistant. You thought you saw a bit of approval in her eyes, but maybe that was just wishful thinking on your part.
It wasn't until nearly 20 minutes later that you were completely set up and just waiting on your mother's models to step in front of your camera for a few quick test shots with the fans blowing and the fake leaves swirling around them. You didn't expect Laura to offer up herself as the test model, to "save time". You didn't protest, but as she stepped in front of the lens of your camera and the fans were turned on and her hair was blown back and the leaf guys started sprinkling leaves into the air, you found your palms sweating and your heart hammering in your chest. And it definitely didn't make matters any better when your mother threw a jacket at her, a few shots later, demanding that she put it on, and "act like it's fall, moppet".
You caught every slight movement, your finger never leaving the shutter release as Laura slipped into the jacket and held the collar up to her neck and looked straight into the lens, lips slightly parted. You could've sworn she was looking directly into your eye as you watched her through the viewfinder and you could've sworn your heart stopped for a full minute. Before you knew it, she was being handed a beanie and a pair of sunglasses, then the shutter clicked a dozen times and the beanie was ripped from her head as a hair stylist parted her hair a different way and then she was laughing as a leaf got stuck to her cheek and then somehow one of the earpieces on her sunglasses ended up in between her teeth as she smiled at you with that excited sparkle in her eye and you're pretty sure you actually died in that moment, whether that was her intention or not. To kill you, you mean. Because right then and there, you realized just how bad you had it for this girl.
You only ended up photographing two other models. Your mother told the others to go home after Laura practically stole the entire show. She was even forced into another jacket and a sweater that your mother let her keep as compensation.
The two of you left late in the afternoon and on the walk back to the gallery, you picked up a pizza that you ate it at your desk while you went through the photos on your laptop. The sun was barely below the horizon when Laura fell asleep, cheek pressed to the surface of your desk as you hit send on the email to your mother with six proofs for her cover. Four of which were of Laura. And maybe you were biased, but you really didn't think there was that much of a competition.