everybody leaves . Sam

[marlene helen hamilton]

Pointless; watching as the bright lights flashed in her friend’s face, Marlene couldn’t help but feel as though such a display of beauty, high fashion clothes and wealth were not only unnecessary, but over the top enough to make her feel sick. Plastering a smile over her face as Gabrielle waved at her while a make up artist reapplied her purple lipstick, she naturally waved back at her dizzy friend; she wasn’t even a professional model, but one of the rich girls who have to take part in a couple photo shoots to call themselves such. Not that Len wasn’t wealthy; her father was definitely a powerful man, which, combined with her mother’s inherited lands, made her definitely loaded with money. Still, she had always thought she was different than the rest of the people in her social condition; smarter, more talented, more able and willing to work hard before, more jaded and cynical now. It was almost funny, how quickly things could change; just an hour was enough to turn her whole life upside down.

Wetting her lips, she looked away, trying to persuade herself she wasn’t that pathetic; she had been, granted, giving herself completely to someone who had dumped her like trash when she wasn’t of use anymore, but never again. Nodding while brushing a strand of her long dark hair away from her face, the girl looked back at Gabrielle with a determined look in her eyes: keep relationships on the surface, be guarded, don’t trust anyone completely so that when they’ll leave, and they will, because everyone does, you won’t be affected too greatly by it. Finally, the photographer arrived; rather late, considering they had all been there for a couple of hours at least, but she just shrugged it off and assumed all artists to be rather unreliable. He was young, very much so; he must have been slightly nervous too, because he kept looking around, as though he wasn’t sure about where to begin with. Either that, or maybe he wasn’t all too familiar with the place; not that it was any of her business, obviously. Restraining a chuckle, she watched as Gabrielle clearly started talking to him in a flirtatious way, tilting her head to the side, batting her eyelashes, smiling sweetly at him; of course she would, he seemed rather fit, at least from a distance. ”The models hook up with photographer stereotype is true then.” She whispered to herself.

[volvokillscaravan]

Sam wasn't often late for things, on the contrary, he was usually fairly early. Yet it seemed that for the most important things, he was tardy. Today was no different. Finally, finally, he had been entrusted by his company with photographing someone, rather than something. Sam felt that people were generally more interesting to photograph than landscapes and inanimate objects. To him, anyway. But the one time he got a chance to 'prove himself', if you will, he was late. Honestly, trust him. Stumbling through East Hampton Village, he finally made it to the shoot. A model was standing in front of the white backdrop, while the light crew checked that everything was running smoothly. Sam was glad to find that he was working with more... punctual people than him. More often than not, he arrived to befall a group of people even more unorganised than he was, if that was possible.

Peeking down at his watch, he realised that he wasn't really that late; the crew and model had to arrive much earlier than Sam. That said, he still felt slightly sheepish arriving on set late. Sending an apologising look to the light crew, who were waiting patiently to begin, he knelt down to take out his camera, which he had lovingly prepared the night before, replacing film and polishing lenses. He got his camera, and glanced around, not sure where to begin. After some pondering, he decided to just take a bunch of photos, and see which turned out best. Looking up, Sam came face to face with the model. Now he got a closer profile of her face, he could recognise who she was; that rich girl, Gabrielle Stanza. Why on Earth did she need a job? Even if it was as a model, the job requiring the least brain power. "Hey, are you the photographer then?", she asked in an unnaturally high voice, and looking like she had something stuck in her eye. "Erm, yeah...", he replied awkwardly. After chatting for a bit, Sam discovered that she just wanted some photos to show off- her words, not his. Stepping back, he said, "Okay guys, let's get started".

One hour later, they were done, and everyone was packing away. Sam was surprised as to how quickly the time had went, but time flies when you're having fun, and he definitely had been. Looking around at everyone, he thought how boring this must be for most spectators, ones that weren't too interested in photography anyway. As if on cue, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a girl leaning on a wall, her head down. At second glance, she looked quite pretty, he couldn't really tell from a distance. Suddenly, as if she was psychic, her head jerked up, making eye contact with Sam. A slight smile playing on his lips, he nodded to her. He was right, she was pretty.


sorry for any punctuation errors, I kinda rushed it =)

[marlene helen hamilton]

She knew it would have taken quite a while for the photo shoot to be done and over with; between the frequent check ups of lightening, both artificial and natural, model’s make up and hair, adjusting the camera lenses, Gabrielle’s tantrum throwing, breaks, Len had taken into account that pretty much her whole afternoon would have been spent there. Not that she especially minded it; her days were fairly empty, hadn’t it been for the occasional party. If anything, the girl found herself eager for distractions to keep her mind off everything: the break up, him, all the books she was supposed to be reading, essays to write, studying to do rather than being in America doing nothing like the spoiled rich girl she had never felt she was. A stab of guilt pierced her stomach as her mind tried to push off the thought of how much of a disappointment she was proving herself to be to her parents, her mother in particular; Caroline had always believed in her daughter so much and now she was behaving like a high school girl, crushed by the end of her first puppy love. Running a hand through her hair once more, Marlene swallowed, trying not to feel too disgusted with herself; to forget about that horrid yet truthful emotion, she tried to focus back on the set.

Gabrielle was doing great, in her eyes; she was so used to being in the spotlight and showered with attention that being a model may have actually been a job she was suited for. Of course, it required a certain patience, striking the pose, holding it....something Len could have never done, considering how she usually disliked being the centre of the attention for her looks. Not that she thought of herself as an ugly girl, but rather a cute one that was nothing special; it had always been her brain and talent to set her apart from the crowd, regardless. Now, even that was over; considering how often she was using them, her neurons would have soon died a lonely death. Maybe not thinking wouldn’t have been such an awful thing; at times, she found herself wanting to stop her seemingly endless stream of consciousness. Starting to get impatient after a few hours, the brunette had just started wondering why Gabrielle had even insisted for her to tag along, wondering if it had been just to show off her modelling skills, when it finally was over. Hearing someone saying so, she suddenly tilted her head up, a sigh of relief escaping her lips, when her eyes met the photographer’s ones; she had been right, he was good looking. Tall, dark long hair, fair skin, brown eyes; he pretty much summed up the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ type. Not surprising at all, considering Gabrielle never showed any interest in normal looking males; what surprised her, on the other hand, was the odd feeling she got, the more she stared at him. Taking a few steps in his direction, not even really being completely aware of what she was doing, Len quickly reached him, as though it was someone else’s will controlling her body and moving her legs instead of hers. ”I’m sorry, this is surely going to sound like a cheesy pick up line.” Somehow, even her voice sounded off; it was as though she witnessed herself behaving like this, rather than being the one in control. ”Have we met somewhere before, by any chance?” He probably would have thought she was just another girl looking for easy access to fame by being photographed for free or something of the sort, but at the moment Marlene could not care less. There was something about him, something familiar, as though he was someone important she had forgotten about; a déjà vu, that’s what this felt like.

[volvokillscaravan]

Staring into those chocolate brown felt weirdly intense, as though a slight electric shock was zooming through Sam's body, and connecting with the brunette girl. Although it sounds really cliche, it felt as though it was only he and this unknown girl in East Hampton Village, gazing into each other's eyes for seconds, minutes, hours... he wasn't too sure. Again, forgive for sounding cliche, but Sam had never really felt this way, it was a strange sensation, not quite heaven, but nearly there. This girl was quite small, compared to his five foot eleven lanky frame. She seemed to be that little bit older than him, but there was nothing wrong with that. With her long brown hair and strangely 'perfect', to Sam at any rate, features, she seemed like a small angel... if angels were tanned.

Suddenly, she leant forward, and took a few steps towards him, reaching him rather quickly. "I'm sorry, this is surely going to sound like a cheesy pickup line", she said, in a British accent, her voice tailing off into silence. This was coincidental, Sam personally had a soft spot for British accents. "Have we met somewhere before, by any chance?". Did she really think that they had met, or was she lying, for some bizarre reason? Now, most people would just think that she was looking for some quick fame as a model or something, but Sam's fatal flaw came into play here; naivety. While most people placed in this situation would tell the gorgeous girl to piss off, but Sam never saw it like that; partly because he tries to be positive, but mainly because he's just gullible like that. So for that reason, the option that this girl just wanted to fuck him for some free photo shoot never crossed his mind.

"I don't think so...", Sam said, an amused smile on his face. "I would've remembered someone this pretty". He winked, the grin on his face widening. Sam was always up for a little flirt, but he always was, always is, and always will be a hopeless romantic. The girls seemed to love those cheesy lines, and if this girl was around to stay, he would need to put all his romantic-ness into play.

[marlene helen hamilton]

Alright, after saying something so predictable, Len was ready to tell this guy she must have been wrong, since she’d have surely remembered someone this lame: players who were trying to get easy hook ups definitely did not rank high on her list at all, now more than ever. As she parted her lips to tell him just that, the smirk on his face caught her eyes; there was something in the way the corners of his lips curled upwards as his eyelids closed slightly that made her heart skip a beat. Confused by her own reaction, the brunette swallowed slightly, wondering what had just happened; it was bad, she knew it. Even right after the break up, Marlene had never thought she could cut men off her life completely; being a smart girl, she knew she was bound to feel lonely from time to time. Still, she had promised herself never to let anyone else in as deeply as Alex had been, reassured by the thought that superficial, occasional flings would have been enough for her. Said superficial ‘relationships’ though did not include butterflies in her stomach, cheeks in flames and irregular heart beats; those were prerogatives of the supposedly ‘serious’ bonds that left people broken once they came to an end. Still…there was more to the heart skipping than just that; it felt familiar once more. Maybe because she had already felt this way in the past, maybe for other reasons, which she planned on finding out thoroughly; therefore she stayed there, deciding not to tell the hot Photographer off in a matter of seconds, even if they felt like ages.

”I suppose I should compliment your eyes and tell you I’d drown in the…chocolate ocean they resemble now?” Trying to jokingly play up the cheesy pick up lines their conversation had been made of, she tilted her head to the side and batted her long eyelashes, in a clearly sarcastic take of the cutesy attitude some girls would have delivered that line with. ”Though the chocolate ocean part makes me think of Willy Wonka’s river, which is neither romantic nor cheesy and just succeeds in making me hungry. You see, I love chocolate.” Who didn’t, anyway? She had always had a sweet tooth despite her really slender figure, cookies, cakes, ice cream, croissants and mousses being among her favourite things to eat. Truly, she couldn’t get the women who needlessly starved themselves to fit into a dress; if anything, she’d have liked to have more curves rather than less. ”Then it would be your turn and you could go on and tell me how my hair looks like silk, my skin as smooth as velvet…my eyelashes like lace and end up making me feel like a fabric store.” Giving him a slight smirk, Len chuckled lightly, which once more surprised her; how long had it been since she had nearly flirted with a guy and meant it? ”Getting your clever sentences haven’t had much of an effect on me, as a last resort, you may then decide to use your one infallible weapon: comparing me to an angel. My personal guess is that you’d choose the dear old ‘did it hurt when you fell out of heaven?’ question, but feel free to correct me, of course. I’m an open minded person, in case that wasn’t plenty clear.” Offering him one slightly mocking but nevertheless sincere smile, she kept her eyes on him, waiting for his reply; most likely, telling her that no, she wasn’t an angel but a devil, and therefore to go to hell. At least that was how she’d have replied, had she been in his shoes; then again, Len wasn’t him.