Chapter 3 - Jordan

Saturday

If you asked me how many photos I’ve taken, I’d undoubtedly say at least over 10,000. From simple portraits to magazine covers, I’ve done every type of photoshoot imaginable. Hell, seven months ago I was in Thailand learning how to scuba dive for an underwater shoot. A week before that, I braced 30mph sandstorms in Dubai for a 10-page spread in GQ. I’ve done shoots in mountains, snowstorms, forests, everything. 

Although I’m grateful for the opportunities to take crazy shots in different countries, my passion for photography has always been in portraiture. I love the way a still photograph can capture the essence of a person's personality and character, and there's something special about being able to freeze a moment in time through the lens of my camera. I always try to find ways to capture each person’s unique qualities to show the rest of the world what I see even if it’s just a fraction of what I’m seeing in real life.

Why am I saying all of this? 

I’ve seen a million faces throughout the world but I’ve never been as captivated by one as the one in front of me. 

Snap. 

Click. 

Snap. 

Click. 

My shutter goes off in quick succession.

Last night I got a text message from an unknown number saying, “I’ll do it.” I was smiling from ear to ear, knowing exactly who it was, and asked him if he was free in the morning. 

12 hours later, sitting in front of a white backdrop on a stool is a beautiful dark-haired boy staring intensely at me. Well into my camera lens, but technically, it’s still me. 

Snap. Click. Snap.

I’m still shocked he decided to let me take his photos.

Snap. 

Click.

I thought he said he would think about it just to be nice.

Snap. Click.

“Should I change positions?” 

I blink, snapping back to reality. I lift my head away from the lens to look up at him. 

“You took a lot of me facing this way.” He shifts around on the stool, but I raise the lens again. “Just a couple more.” 

Truth is, I have more than enough shots of him in that position, but I act like I need more so he won’t be able to tell I was zoning out thinking about him. 

Snap. Click. 

Snap. Click.

“Okay, turn to the side.” He swings his legs to the right of the stool. “Turn your head towards me and tilt up slightly.” 

He perfectly does as he’s told. He’s a natural. I wonder if he’s done this before. 

I take a couple more from the side and back of him. Initially, I was planning on just taking these headshots of him today. But when he walked into my studio this morning his eyes were immediately drawn towards one of the many racks of clothing littered around the room. 

Designers send me their clothes weeks before the shoot so I have an idea about what I’m shooting and have time to develop a concept. I keep each brand labeled and separated on clothing rails because it’s easier for me to come up with ideas when I can see the clothes in front of me, versus packing them away until the shoot. It makes for a crowded room sometimes but phenomenal photoshoots.

The clothing rack that caught his eye was a Vivera collection launching early next year. Most of the time, the designers already have models in mind because they want to ensure their look fits their brand. Sometimes they give me the freedom to choose the models or I’ll send them five portfolios to pick from. I watched Leo as he started sifting through the clothes then quickly turned to me to say, “Sorry, I shouldn’t be touching these, they’re probably all like $1,000.” Throwing my headshot plan out the window without a second thought I asked him if he wanted to model them. He genuinely looked taken aback and kept asking me if I was sure and I told him he would be the perfect face for the brand. Luckily, I know the guys at Vivera have enough trust in me that they’d let me pick my own model for this collection. 

I’ve never felt a romantic attraction towards a model I’ve worked with. Some have come onto me but I always keep it strictly professional and if they continue their advances I get them switched to another photographer. I take my job very seriously. I glance over at Leo who’s still sitting on the stool, both hands in between his legs, looking around my studio. I told him to relax for a bit while I looked through the test shots. 

“So what made you change your mind?” I break the silence, not because it’s awkward but because I want to know more about him. 

“Hmm, well I looked at your Insta and saw you probably wouldn’t murder me. So I take back the serial killer part. The stalker part is still in question though.” My lips rise. I can’t even argue with that. I technically was stalking him for those two days. Last night when I left I was sure I wouldn’t see him again, but somehow here we are. 

He playfully kicks his feet. “I’m waiting for the part where you tell me to take off my shoes so you can take pictures of my feet.” My cheeks rise higher and I rub my jaw. “You really think I’m some pervert, huh?” He puts both of his hands up. “Hey if you have a foot fetish I’m not here to judge. I’m just saying that’s not my thing. I have my own kinks.” 

His own kinks.

Before I allow my brain to start going in a million directions I motion for him to come over to the rack. “We’re good to go. Come change into the first outfit.” 

“Okay, boss.” He hoists himself out of the stool and walks towards me, taking the hanger out of my hand. He raises it to get a good look and puts it back on the rack. In one swift motion, he pulls his dark gray short-sleeved shirt over his head, exposing his bare chest. My eyes inadvertently draw toward the bottom of his waist where a belly button piercing sits. He starts to follow my gaze down and I quickly turn before he catches me and calls me a pervert again. 

“Is it going to be a problem? I can take it out.” Referring to the piercing. I pretend to adjust some settings on my camera and still facing away I say, “Nah, it’s fine your midsection will be covered anyway. There’s a dressing room you can change in in the back.” 

He ignores me and starts taking his jeans off. “This is faster though.” He effortlessly puts on the shirt and buttons up matching black pants. “And it’s not like I’m fully nude. Unless you want me to be?” I hear the smile in his voice.

 If this keeps up I don’t know if I’ll be able to stick to my rule.

—-------------

I walk with Leo out of the studio and down through my adjoining apartment towards the elevators. 

He asks how I got into photography and I tell him about how I’d spend my recess time in middle school, taking pictures of random things. All the kids would be playing and they’d see me and go there goes Jordan with his camera again. Take a picture of us! He tells me that’s adorable. We step out into the lobby and walk towards the front entrance, briefly nodding a greeting to the doormen.

 “So that’s how you got started. But how did you know it’s what you wanted to do out of all the other things in the world?” 

Walking about ten feet down the sidewalk, I take out a pack of cigarettes, pop one out for myself, and hand him one. After our shoot, he asked me if I had one and I told him I’d come with him to smoke. I usually only smoke when I need to relieve a little stress but right now I desperately need some type of oral fixation.

I light mine and motion the lighter for him to take but he shakes his head and cups a hand around the cigarette in his mouth. Immediately understanding,  I light the end of his and watch his face as he inhales, taking the chance to study his features more closely: long eyelashes, flawless tan skin, dainty hands. 

He backs away and I exhale, not realizing I was holding my breath. My eyes still on him, he turns away to blow out a cloud of smoke and then looks at me. “So?” he asks, now studying my features too. His eyes flit between my eyes, lips, and my upper chest that’s exposed underneath my partially unbuttoned shirt. 

So? 

I come back down to earth but it takes me a second too long because he laughs and teases me. “You’re not even trying to hide it.” 

I don’t even have to ask what IT is because it is not a line I will cross. That's the one rule I’ve made and kept for myself. 

“I don’t fuck my models,” I state plainly. 

I’ve never slept with one of my models and I don’t plan on starting now. 

But I’ve also never been this insanely attracted to one either. 

He looks me up and down curiously. “Oh? Is that what you think I was implying? You have such a dirty mind, Jordan.” I almost smile but decide to not give him that satisfaction. 

Ignoring that comment, I reply to his earlier question. “How did I know it’s what I wanted to do? Hm.” I’m stumped because I’ve never thought about it before and no one has ever asked me. 

How did I know? I never tried anything else. I have friends who changed their majors four times and still graduated with something else. From the time I could walk, I was playing with cameras. I never had any influences either, my mom is a volunteer nurse now and was a teacher when I was little. She bought a disposable camera just for fun and to take pictures of me and my little brother and random stuff. Little bugs, the birds on the fence, flowers in our garden. But when she saw I took an interest in taking photos she encouraged it. 

Eventually, she got me a nice digital camera for Christmas so I didn’t have to keep mowing lawns to pay for disposable film. We had virtually no money my entire childhood, so I know she had to save for months. 

My mom jokes that I started using a camera before I took my first step or said my first word. So it came as no surprise to anyone when I double majored in Photography and Film and then started my own photography company after graduating from college. 

I never had a moment where I wanted to do anything else. Maybe I wanted to make my mom proud for supporting my interests. 

I puff out a stream of smoke and look straight, feeling his eyes still on me waiting for an answer. I turn and respond. “I don’t know, I’ll have to think about that.” Leo begins to nod as a ping comes from his pocket. He pulls out his phone, types something back, and then kicks himself off of the wall. “I have to go, but tell me next time, okay?” 

Next time. 

So I’ll see him again. 

“Sure,” I answer as he puts out the cigarette under his shoe and walks down the block. There’s an idling car that pulled up a few seconds ago, his ride presumably. I try to make out who’s driving but they’re too far away. The only thing I can tell for sure is that it’s a guy. 

Halfway towards the car, he turns and waves to me. “Text me when you’re done editing the photos. I want to see them.” I nod and wave back. He gets into the waiting car, and just like that he’s gone.

——--------

Later that night 

A rerun of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia plays on TV as I pull out my desk chair. I plug my camera into the USB of my desktop and take a sip of my red wine. The folder pops up in the corner of the screen and I scroll my mouse to import all of the photos from today. Swiveling my chair towards the TV, I catch the first part of the Valentine’s special episode where Mac and Frank are trying to help Dee get a date.

 As I wait for the files to upload, I unlock my phone, to the last app I had open which is iMessage. I reread the conversation on the screen.

Leo: I’ll do it

No reply from me because I called him. Most people prefer texting but call me old-fashioned, I’d rather hear your voice than read a message. Plus it’s easier to talk about details than to type.

The next message is me sending him the address to my place. Then,

Leo: I got home safe 🙂

Me: 👍

Leo: That’s such a dad emoji LOL

Before he left I told him to text me when he got home safely which was just out of habit. I tell all of my models this. He snorted and replied, “Okay Dad, I will.”

Is a thumbs-up really a ‘dad’ emoji? I think about our 6-year age gap. I just turned 28 in April, but 6 years is still a pretty large age gap. The youngest person I’ve dated was only two years younger than me. I can’t imagine dating a 22-year-old.

Wait. 

Why am I thinking about dating? 

I direct my attention to the TV, pushing those thoughts out of my head. Dennis and Charlie are on a pretend double date to catch Dee with the guy Mac and Frank set her up with.

I turn back towards my monitor to see all the pictures uploaded. 60 shots total. I lean in and begin clicking through them. Usually, this process would take me about 20 minutes. Picking out the shots and then retouching them adds another 15 minutes. Then I look at them again in exactly one week, make final edits, and narrow down the best ones before sending them off for approval. My process is very meticulous, I have it down to a science.

At least I did up until now.

Three hours pass by and I haven’t picked even one shot. Half a season of It’s Always Sunny played and I didn’t even realize it because I wasn’t paying attention. 

It’s not because there are no good ones. It's because ALL of them are fucking amazing. It’s hard to choose. I don’t even have to do any retouching. He wore five different outfits, which I took pictures of from various angles. In every photo, his green eyes stand out against his tan skin and dark hair. 

I lean my elbow onto my desk and rub my jaw. This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have asked him to model for me. If this were anyone else I would tell them I have no more projects for them. But Leo told me he’d be down to do more. For a second I debate having him transferred to another photographer. Then the thought of who would take him makes me cringe.

Jeremy, an independent photographer that’s partnered with my company. A sleazebag that’s notoriously known for sleeping with all of his models. He’s the only one in the city that’s close enough to me that could take him. I shake that idea out of my head. There’s no way. 

I’ll just continue to keep it professional. 

Yeah. 

That’s all I need to do. 

I don’t have to worry about anything.

I glance back at my desktop to Leo looking over his shoulder at me (the camera) in a white button-down. His eyes are full on seducing me through the screen. My phone ringing isn’t even powerful enough to rip my attention off of him.

Keep it professional, Jordan.