Quentin stood up and pushed his chair in. Joel stood stiffly beside the table, looking uncomfortable and ready to leave. He’d looked that way the entire lunch, like Quentin smelled bad. Quentin actually worried hedidsmell bad, and had snuck a whiff of his armpit when Joel wasn’t looking. Nope, if there was a stench, it was purely emotional. Despite his dislike of Joel, Quentin found the pop star a little amusing. He was silly, in a privileged, air-headed sort of way. He could tell that Joel hadn’t lived a normal life for the last ten years. He was image-conscious and too serious about the wrong things. Quentin had enjoyed teasing him with the photo. Not that many people had actually seen it, but it was funny seeing Joel worry about it.
“Come here,” Joel said. “The lighting is better over here.”
Quentin relented and went to stand next to Joel. They were roughly the same height.
As Joel held up his camera, his entire demeanor changed. Quentin was thunderstruck by the sudden and immediate transformation. He went from being the guy Quentin was reluctantly having lunch with to Joel BeckettTM, the legendary pop star. He smiled dazzlingly at his phone’s camera as he took the first photo.
“You look like someone just told you your fish died,” Joel said reprovingly.
Quentin frowned. “I donot.”
“Yes, you do. Try to smile.”
Joel held up the phone again, and this time, he draped an arm over Quentin’s shoulders. Quentin stiffened at the contact. Joel’s body was close to his, and he felt the warmth of Joel against him.
“Smile,” Joel repeated.
Quentin tried to force a smile.
“Is this how you smiled in your school photos?” Joel said incredulously.
“I’m bad at smiling for pictures,” Quentin admitted, annoyed at Joel for pressing the matter.
Joel lowered the phone and turned to face Quentin. “Smiling is a skill,” he said. “You can learn to do it. Do you think all actors and pop stars are naturally good at smiling? We learn how to do it.”
Quentin groaned inwardly. “What, are you going to teach me?”
“Yes,” Joel said firmly. “If I have to post a picture with you, I’m going to make sure you look good. I won’t let my image suffer becauseyoudon’t know how to smile.”
Quentin couldn’t tell if Joel was serious or being facetious.
Joel was only being half-serious. On one hand, he didn’t want to post a picture with someone who looked awkward and stiff, but he also figured if he had the time, he might as well teach Quentin the skill of smiling for the camera.
He looked intently at Quentin’s face. Once again, knots twisted in his stomach. He mentally, and sternly, told his stomach to get its act together.
There was something undeniably attractive about Quentin’s face, with his square jaw and bright eyes. Even with his broken nose and the bruises around his eyes, he was still handsome.
“A good smile starts with the eyes,” Joel said. “Smile like you’re posing for a picture.”
“This feels creepy, looking at you and smiling like that.”
“Just do it.”
Quentin grinned grotesquely.
“My god,” Joel said, “Make it stop.”
“This is useless. Just take the damn photo.”
“You had a great smile earlier,” Joel insisted. It was true. Quentin’s smile was charming, almost a little predatory. “Where’d it go?”
“I smile when I’m enjoying myself,” Quentin deadpanned.
“Rude. Okay. Squint, just a little bit.”
Quentin did. “Hurts my eyes.”
“You play in the NHL. Surely you’ve dealt with worse pain. Stop complaining.”
