Chapter 4: Love, Affection, Devotion

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R A Y N A

At noon the next day, my train pulls into the station at the centre of the bustling city I call home. Once it drags to a halt, I leave the stuffy train carriage and step out onto the platform.

I fix my silver locks, ensuring that I tie any stray strands back into the high ponytail I opted to go for this morning. I'm confident in my looks and my ability as a model, but I want to be certain to make a good impression. It's essential when considering how important this opportunity is for my career.

With one last glance at my reflection in the departing train's window, I embark on my journey through the throng of people on the platform.

Other than him being an aspiring (and failing) photographer, I don't really have much information about this 'Caleb Fitrei.' I'm not even sure what he looks like. All I know is that we are due to meet at a diner close by, so that we can iron out the details about this project.

The whole situation makes me sort of uneasy. Regardless, though, I'm certain that Aunt Celine and—most likely—Flo wouldn't send me off to work for some tool.

Hopefully.

I stop outside a building with a large, hand-painted sign that reads 'Deanna's Diner' nailed above the entrance. I peer down at the paper clasped between my hands. This looks like the place. I push open one of the two glass double-doors and enter the building.

Swarms of people inhabit Deanna's Diner, with waiters and waitresses scurrying around and taking orders at a rapid pace. The entire atmosphere reflects that of the lively city surrounding it.

"Welcome to Deanna's Diner. Can I help you?" Someone speaks up from beside me, taking my attention away from the busy atmosphere. His eyes widen noticeably when they meet mine, a telltale sign this guy knows exactly who I am.

And not for the right reasons, I'm sure.

"Yes," I respond after clearing my throat awkwardly. "I'm meeting someone here. The reservation should be under the surname 'Fitrei', I believe."

A small frown tugs at his face, his eyes roving over his clipboard. His fingers tap at the wooden exterior of the object rhythmically before he answers. "We have table twenty-six reserved under his name, but he is yet to check in."

I look down at my silver wristwatch, huffing when I see the time the ticking hands display. He had requested for me to meet him at twelve-thirty sharp and avoid being late at all costs. What a hypocrite!

"Would you like to wait at the table for him to arrive?" The waiter questions.

"I guess," I mutter in response. A frown etches itself on my face and I fold my arms across my front. "Thank you."

He nods and then guides me through the array of occupied tables. When we arrive at the correct one, I perch myself down on one of the two oak chairs and accept the waiter's kind offer of a glass of water whilst I wait for this 'Caleb Fitrei' to show his face.

#

At around twelve-fifty, someone finally tumbles through the entrance.

He has messy blonde hair, is clearly out of breath, and has a camera hanging loosely around his neck. The guy gives his name to an employee through ragged breaths before dragging his feet over to me.

"Hi." He slumps down into the chair opposite mine and dumps the duffle bag that had been slung languidly over his shoulder on the laminate floor below. "Rayne, right?"

"Rayna," I correct him fiercely. "Are you usually this late, or do you save tardiness for special occasions?"

He chuckles, and the dimples that form on his face as a result catch my eye. He pulls the silver camera from around his neck and presses a few buttons on the device, before turning his blue eyes back to meet my own brown pair.

"I was on course to get here on time, but I left this at home." He shakes the camera for emphasis. "And a little birdie told me you're quite the princess and rather hard to persuade, so I figured I'd need to show some of my work to get you on board with this."

I narrow my eyes. What on Earth does he mean by that?

"I already agreed. Thank you very much!" I fold my arms and scrunch my face up in dissatisfaction. "And I'm far from a princess—if you even think about comparing me to a damsel in distress again, I'll shove that camera down your throat."

He raises an eyebrow. "Seems the little birdie wasn't wrong, then."

"At least people know who I am! I can't even remember your name."

"I'm Caleb. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Alright, Caleb."

I grimace at the thought of what both my aunt and Flo would say to me right now. I'd sworn to make a good first impression, yet here I am—attitude on full display. If Flo were here, she would probably string me up by my toes and yell endless numbers of profanities at me, whereas Aunt Celine would just look... well, disappointed.

"So, I guess that's the formalities and introductions done with, right?" Caleb remarks.

I look to my right, choosing to focus on the crowd of people passing by on the other side of the window rather than on him. "I suppose."

"Right, down to business, then."

The sound of a zipper being opened and papers rustling is audible as I continue to look away from him.

"You'll need to face me. Unless you have eyes on the side of your head, that is."

"Hilarious, maybe you should switch professions and become a comedian rather than a photographer," I snap, and then turn my attention back to him.

Caleb has sprawled an array of papers across the tabletop in a disorderly fashion. Some contain lines upon lines of writing, and others have diagrams, intricate planning and mind-maps.

"What's all this?" I ask.

"My plans for the competition we'll be entering," he replies nonchalantly as he pulls yet another wad from his bag.

I pick up a piece of paper with two, manicured fingers and scowl at the words scrawled in messy handwriting at the very top of the page.

'Love, Affection, Devotion.'

"Oh, don't tell me—"

"The theme of the competition is love in all of its forms," he explains. "It's a nice theme, if you ask me."

"No, it is not nice," I snap in response. It's sickening, and the mere idea of it is almost enough to make me gag. I can't stand it.

"And here I thought girls loved romance. You are a strange one, Rayna Harris." Caleb smirks. "Unfortunately, that's the theme everyone has to follow. We have no choice."

I sigh, exasperated. There is no way in hell I can do this.

"I'm not strange. I just don't believe in all of that romantic crap," I reply. "Humans aren't capable of such feelings."

"They are if they find the right person," he counters. "Something tells me you've been giving your affections to the wrong people."

I pause for a moment and bite my lip. "I don't think that's any of your damn business." Elaborating on my experiences with love—both romantic and platonic—is not something that I wish to do.

"Alright, I apologise." He raises his hands in surrender. "But regardless, the theme won't change. It's final."

"I don't think I can do this."

"You need this just as much as I do," Caleb presses. "You and I both know that."

As irritating as it is, he's right. What other choice do I have at this stage? My career is at breaking point, and I have no other employment to fall back on. It's non-negotiable.

"I need the cash prize to kick-start my career. You need the popularity boost to uphold yours," he continues. "It's a win-win for both of us if we can do this well."

"Fine, but don't expect me to enjoy it."

"If the project gets done, then I'm not complaining," Caleb replies with a cheeky grin, his dimples appearing once more. "Give me your number and we can get this show on the road. Deadline's in a month and a bit, after all."

I nearly rocket from my seat. "Only a month and a bit? Are you insane?!"

He shrugs, unbothered by my insult. "I attracted little interest before now. I'm unknown, as you oh-so-kindly commented on earlier."

"Right..."

"We'll have to work fast," he says. "So I hope you've got enough free time on your hands."

"I lost my job. I'm sure you're aware of from the headlines." I look away once more. "I haven't exactly got much on my plate anymore after that."

"Fantastic," he says, hastily raising a hand in defence a moment later when I whip my head around and glare daggers his way. "Not about your job, just that you'll have time. Chill."

Despite his apology, I still glower. This is going to be a roller coaster, that's for sure. The guy has already irked me in the mere fifteen minutes we've known each other, but he seems to mean well.

One thing that I cannot help, though, is the pang of worry that hits me as he stuffs his paperwork back into a crumpled plastic wallet, knocking a few pieces onto the floor.

He's so disorganised!

"I never caught your number," Caleb reminds me.

"That's because I never threw it," I counter, giving his wit a taste of its own medicine.

He rolls his eyes. "Okay, I guess I'll just send a carrier pigeon to you when we need to plan photoshoot dates."

"Here." I tut, grabbing a napkin from the side of the table and fishing a pen from my handbag. I scrawl my 11-digit number down in neat, cursive handwriting and pass it over to him. "Text me earlier than eight in the morning or later than eleven at night, and you won't make it out of this project alive. I'll see to that one personally."

"Noted," he responds, stuffing the napkin into the front pocket of his jeans.

I glance around the room once more, watching the staff on duty as they carry plates of delectable looking food around to the multitude of tables. Christ, I'm hungry. "Can we order food now?" I whine. "I'm starving."

"Food?"

"You arranged for us to meet at a restaurant at lunchtime. Most people eat around about now, Caleb."

"Alright, sheesh, we'll get food," he murmurs. He adds something else under his breath after, but I cannot make the words out.

I grab two menus from the side of the table, keeping one for myself and passing the second over to Caleb. My eyes rove over the many mouth-watering options on the menu as I struggle to pick what to order. I have to give it to the guy—if he got one thing right today; it was picking a good place to meet.

After a few more minutes of pondering, I choose a dish and order. Caleb goes back to flicking through whatever he has on that camera of his, whilst I turn to look out the window once more.

I know that this project is going to be challenging, especially with such a difficult theme. But maybe, just maybe, the blonde guy sat before me is right. Perhaps if we win this stupid contest, it will uphold my status in the industry—or even increase it tenfold!

It's a chance I have to take to achieve my dream.

Chapter 4 is here, and in this chapter we meet Caleb! What are your thoughts on the photographer Rayna will be working with? :)

Please click that li'l star to vote if you enjoyed. It means the absolute world to me as an author. <3

Loads of love to you all and see you in the next chapter!

Amber