Chapter 15
The photo team was falling apart.
The models looked like they’d been forced at gunpoint to flirt, the props were aggressively beige, and the lighting gave everyone weird cheek shadows that made them look like haunted porcelain dolls.
The dating campaign was meant to be warm, romantic, playful.
What they had was tense, awkward, and visually hostile.
Blake stood just off to the left of the writing team’s workspace, watching the mess unfold like a general surveying a battlefield.
Jamie watched him.
He wasn’t even pretending not to.
The way Blake moved – efficient, focused, sleeves rolled, dark slacks, voice calm but precise – was distracting in the worst possible way.
This is not helpful. This is very much not helpful.
Blake wasn’t barking orders. He was asking the right questions, making the crew laugh, shifting angles, adjusting tone like he was shaping the entire room with nothing but instinct.
Jamie snapped out of it when Blake turned toward him.
“Jamie,” he said, “give me a hand, would you?”
Jamie blinked. “Me?”
Blake nodded. “Come on. I need your face.”
“That’s not terrifying at all,” Jamie muttered, but stood and walked over. “How can I help?”
Blake grinned and guided him gently into position in front of the camera. “Smile. Pretend to be in love.”
Jamie stared. “Excuse me?”
“Think about croissants,” Blake said, completely serious. “They go perfectly with coffee, right?”
Jamie rolled his eyes – but the smile came anyway.
The photographer lit up. “Yes! That’s it – stay right there.”
Jamie followed directions. Look right. Tilt his head. Chin down.
Think happy thoughts.
Think about Ritual Coffee.
Think about croissants.
Think about…
Blake.
He froze for half a second…
then softened.
From the corner of his eye, he caught Blake watching him.
That look.
Amused. Fond. Like Jamie was the point of the whole thing.
Oh. That’s new.
“Next model!” the photographer called.
Silence.
“Anyone?” they tried again. “I need a placeholder. Blake, step in next to Jamie, will you?”
Blake didn’t hesitate. “With pleasure.”
Jamie’s brain immediately shut down.
Blake stepped beside him, close enough that Jamie could feel the heat of him, the subtle brush of fabric, the presence.
Too close.
Not close enough.
“Blake,” the photographer said, “take Jamie’s hand. Look at him like you’ve just found your match.”
Blake turned.
Eyes on Jamie.
Warm. Certain. Just a little too real.
“Don’t you just love creativity?” he murmured.
Jamie rolled his eyes, but his pulse betrayed him. “You are having way too much fun.”
Blake’s fingers curled around his hand – steady, grounding.
Oh. That’s…
“Work can be fun,” Blake said quietly, “with the right people.”
Jamie smiled.
Not for the camera.
Just for him.
The photographer clapped. “That’s it! That’s the shot. Perfect – you two!”
Blake didn’t let go right away.
Jamie noticed.
Of course he noticed.
Then, slowly, Blake released his hand – but didn’t step back.
Still looking at him like the moment hadn’t quite ended.
Jamie took a breath. “That was… unexpected.”
Blake nodded slightly. “I like this side of you.”
Jamie tilted his head. “Which side?”
“The one where you say yes,” Blake said, voice softer now, “even when it scares you.”
Jamie’s heart stumbled.
That felt personal.
“It helps,” he admitted, quieter now, “that you were there.”
Blake stepped just a fraction closer.
Close enough to matter.
“Careful, Capulet,” he murmured, “or I might think you’re flirting back.”
Jamie’s breath caught.
Blake smiled – slow, knowing…
then turned and walked away toward the post-shoot meeting like he hadn’t just rearranged Jamie’s entire nervous system.
Jamie stayed where he was.
Hand still warm.
Chest still tight.
That didn’t feel like pretending.
He exhaled, a little dazed, a little giddy.
This wasn’t pretend anymore.
And maybe…
just maybe…
it never had been.