“How are they coming out?” I ask in a hushed voice.
He lowers the camera and we both look at the images on the display screen. “They’re okay,” he answers. “Traumatized chic is a thing, right?”
I look at the pictures more closely. “I mean, itcanbe. Maybe we’ll be pioneers.”
“Absolutely. When we talk to the social media people, we just have to really lean into the idea that Holly looks so good in the clothes that she’s literally scaring herself.”
“Have we got it? Are we done?” Holly calls out. She pulls her hair almost entirely in front of her, attempting to Sia her way into a state of anonymity. Marco and I look at each other, both eager to stop torturing her, but also knowing that we need to get these images right.
“How about you try leaning back against the wall?” Marco suggests. “I think the sequins of the bodice will really pop against the stone.”
Holly closes her eyes in despair, but does as she’s asked, leaning against the wall. “Like this?”
I move a little closer as I try to think of how we can improve the shot. “Can you put one arm up behind you? Like, sort of rest it behind your head?”
Holly once again follows our suggestions, but the stiffness of her stance is blatant.
“This isn’t working,” Marco whispers as he continues snapping away.
I’m about to ask Holly to reconfigure her position again when a man standing a few feet to her right suddenly steps forward.
“Sorry, should I move over? Am I in the way of your picture?” He asks the questions in a thick and highly swoon-worthy Italian accent. Seeming to be in his early twenties, he’s tall and lanky. Clean-shaven with a mess of black curls. He addresses his question to all of us, but his eyes are mainly drawn to Holly.
“No, you’re okay,” Marco answers. “We’re almost finished up.”
The man answers with a friendly smile before turning to Holly again. “I don’t mean to bother you. I hope you don’t think I’m rude, but you are incredibly beautiful.”
Holly lets out a quiet laugh and Marco catches my wrist in a vise grip.
“I’m not,” she answers as she meets the man’s gaze. “It’s just the clothes.”
“I didn’t even notice the clothes,” he replies.
Marco almost squeezes my wrist off at that, and I have to twist my way out before I lose circulation.
“We should introduce ourselves,” I say as I move forward, pulling Marco along with me.
“I’m Violet, this is Marco and our model of the day is Holly.”
“Holly,” the man repeats, extending his hand to her, which she gently takes. “I’m Dino.”
Marco gasps and almost violently leans into my side. “His name is Dino,” he whispers. “Dino thedestino.”
I nudge him back so we’re both standing straight. “You need to calm yourself.”
“I will do nothing of the sort.”
“So you are a model?” Dino asks Holly.
Our friend vehemently shakes her head. “No, not a model. I’m a designer. A student, really. We’re taking pictures for the label we intern for.”
“Ah,” he answers. “I’m sorry. I’m interrupting your work.”
Holly pushes the hair from her face. “Don’t be sorry. The pictures weren’t going well. I don’t like having my photo taken, especially not in front of people. We’re meant to take a bunch around the city.”
“Really?” Dino replies. “Where are you going next?”
Holly looks to me and I’m fast to answer. “The Trevi Fountain. We’ll take the Metro over then keep going to the rest of the locations.”
