Falling For The Enemy

Lilly

No amount of money could make a winter beach photoshoot enjoyable.

"Damn drone," I mutter, setting up the equipment case and popping it open. It's twenty-five degrees and chilly near the ocean. Who schedules a photoshoot in January on the water? Only rich folks, I guess.

Kate, my business partner and second shooter, approaches, shivering and shaking her head. "If I didn’t need the cash, I'd bail. Screw the deposit."

I frown, organizing the gear. I'm freezing too, but I wouldn’t abandon a client. Kate might handle the business side, but she has a lot to learn.

"At least it pays the rent," I offer with a forced smile, my face numb from the cold. This isn't looking good. The client’s package includes two hours of drone footage. I’ll probably turn into a popsicle by then. The wind tugs strands of hair from my hood, as if agreeing with my misery.

"Yeah, twenty percent of twenty-five grand. I’ll take it," Kate replies.

So will I. No more shifts at the coffee shop downstairs. With some budgeting, this will keep me going until wedding season kicks off in the summer.

"When’s your trip? Thailand must be calling."

Kate perks up. She’s heading off on a month-long journey to find herself. Personally, I’d prefer a cheaper self-discovery, but it's her call.

"Three weeks," she beams. "Can’t wait."

"It’ll be amazing," I mutter absentmindedly. Running the business solo will be tough, though realistically, we won’t have many shoots until May. Maybe some family portraits in Central Park or engagements on the waterfront, but no weddings.

Kate adjusts her camera settings, and I secure mine firmly on my shoulder. I’m not dropping this expensive DSLR in the sand. It's my baby, worth $2000 of high-tech gear.

I double-check the lighting, even though I’ve done it thrice already. I want this shoot to be flawless. These clients likely have influential connections, and I need the photos to be perfect. I glance down the beach. They’re still not here.

The sunrise light is always stunning at this hour, just as the sun peeks above the horizon. I love shooting at sunrise, even if dragging myself out of bed is torture. It’s a magical time, and couples often sense its intimacy. The photos almost always turn out beautifully.

Unless the couple arrives late and misses the soft, golden light. I furrow my brow, scanning the dim beach for any signs of their car. If they don’t show up soon, they’ll miss the hazy, golden hour before the sun gets too harsh over the sand and sea.

“They’re going to miss the sunrise,” Kate echoed my thoughts.

“I know,” I replied, frowning. “They don’t seem to care. Did they confirm the time?”

Kate nodded, rubbing her hands under her armpits for warmth.

I shivered and lifted my camera, checking the screen and snapping a few test shots. Might as well be prepared when they finally arrive. As I adjusted the drone controller, a town car pulled up. The driver stepped out to open the passenger door, and I couldn’t help but snort. A driver for a photoshoot? Impressive. A willowy blonde emerged from the right side, while the impatient passenger on the other side shoved the door open and stepped out into the chilly morning without waiting for the driver.

Damn. As the man scanned the beach, I found myself scanning him. He was tall, over six feet, dressed in a likely custom suit to match the car and the driver. His shoulders were broad, posture straight-backed. He was far enough away not to notice my gaze, but close enough for me to appreciate his commanding presence. He seemed to exude an aura of ownership, hands casually tucked in the pockets of his slacks, surveying the beach like a king overseeing his realm. I shivered involuntarily. The photos I could capture of this man. I was tempted to zoom in and capture his straight nose and distinguished profile right then and there. Stop ogling and focus.

I turned my camera back on, ready to capture candid shots as the couple made their way down the beach. However, something seemed off. They looked awkward, distant from each other. The man wasn’t guiding her across the sand, and she kept a noticeable distance.

“What’s going on?” I muttered. “They look like they can’t stand each other.”

Kate shook her head. “No idea. I only dealt with her assistant. Didn’t even catch her first name.”

Watching them approach, I noted how most couples usually arrived excited for their photoshoot, eager to be affectionate from the start.

“One of us will have to break the ice,” Kate reminded me.

I could turn on the charm when needed. As the face of our business, it often fell on me to crack jokes and make small talk until the couples relaxed. I preferred capturing warm, natural moments, aiming for the best shots midway through the session, before fatigue set in. Kate would want a few classic poses for the website, but judging by the man’s demeanor, I doubted he’d be keen on kneeling in the sand.

Yeah, he definitely didn’t strike me as the type who kneels for anyone.

What the hell? I shake the absurd thought away and lift the camera. The man’s back is held straight, and his hands are still in his pockets. Oh, he’s not happy. I look down at the screen, and his face appears in perfect clarity.

I jolt.

No fucking way.