"Declan Wilder, put your tongue back in your mouth, or so help me, I will photoshop you out of every single picture."
He throws me that arrogant crooked smile and a wink but eventually obliges long enough for me to capture that drool worthy smolder.
Talking them out of the old, deserted zoo place and into the rustic buildings near the hospital where I work was the best decision of the day. Even if they weren't really into the garden just next to it, the shots in front of the classic brick wall and graffiti turned out even better than I thought.
However, manipulating each of the guys to cooperate was not. After nearly five hours of uncontrollable laughter, dark smolders, goofy shots, and trying to control my unruly boys, I've finally finished.
"Anybody wanna grab food?" Chris asks. "I'm starving. I think AJ worked me too hard."
"You worked too hard?" I ask, sarcastically. "I was the one who had to lay in the grass just to take one hundred pictures of you doing the same pose."
Tyler juts in to defend me, mocking Chris and his signature facade perfectly. "She has a point."
Chris has a new pouty demeanor that, while slightly effective, is much too amusing to ignore, especially when those hazel eyes are shooting daggers at me. "Okay, Christopher. I'm just messing with you. Let's go get food before you turn into a gremlin."
"Actually," Wilder interrupts by wrapping one arm around my neck and resting his chin on top of my head. "We still have a couple more shots I want to get, but you guys can go ahead." Now, it's my turn to display the signature hunger pout until Wilder responds, "I promise it won't take long, and then I'll make sure you get food, too."
Once the boys are out of sight, Wilder takes the camera from my hands. "My best friend has this same brand. Give me the quick rundown."
"What? Why?" I shoot him a puzzled look.
"It's time for your photo shoot, now."
"You're funny, Wilder. I probably have grass stains on my ass. No more pictures," I whine, "especially not for me."
His hand brushes across my cheek as he hooks a stray curl behind my ear, and huffs. "Just teach me how this works."
My ability to speak gets caught in my vocal cords at his fluttering touch, rendering me speechless, staring into his curiously wild blue eyes. What was that for, and why did it affect me so much?
My face has got to be a deep shade of red by now. With the exception of a few platonic hugs, people don't usually touch me at all, much less pull a classic rom com moment by softly stroking my cheek and pushing my hair behind my ear.
Okay, deep breath and think of random calming thoughts. The sky is blue because blue light travels in shorter waves when the sunlight is scattered. Life itself could technically be categorized as a sexually transmitted disease. The speed of a computer mouse is measured in Mickeys per second.
One more deep breath, and all bodily functions are back to normal.
Once I've fully recovered from whatever the hell he just did to me and he's got the hang of the auto setting and actually remembers to push the button down halfway, he's clicking away a little too quickly and taking way too many pictures.
This feels super weird. I don't even know what to do with my face or my hands or any other part of my body, for that matter. I'm guessing Wilder isn't satisfied with any of the awkward shots because he puts the camera down to just stare at me like we no longer speak the same language.
"There's a reason I'm behind the camera, Wilder. I have no idea what to do with my arms or face or anything else, and I probably have mascara running down my face. I look like a hot mess."
"What do you mean? You look fucking gorgeous." He says it so casually, but a small smile overtakes my face as I tilt my head and roll my eyes. And then he clicks and pulls the camera back to admire his work. "That's exactly what I'm looking for."
"Douchebag," is what comes out of my mouth, but for once when it comes to Declan, I don't actually mean it.
While I know I probably look like a complete idiot contorting into these weird instagram model poses he puts me in, his little comment has given me some sort newfound confidence. The first few very much resemble amateur instagram model knockoffs, but every other one since then has me mouth wide open, hysterically laughing at the stupid shit Wilder says and does to get a reaction out of me.
When I finally convince him it's time to be done, he runs behind me, rests his head against mine, and holds the camera as far away from us as possible. It turns out to be a tad bit blurry but one of my favorites from today.
Giving me some time to go through some of the pictures today, Wilder slips in a small burger joint to order dinner.
I have to say, Tyler and Chris were, hands down, the best duo. Their genuine smiles turned out just as good as the bland, typical model face shots. Brandon wins best dressed, though, his outfit complimenting his darker skin tones perfectly.
But there's just something that keeps bringing me back to that first picture of Wilder.
"Hungry?" He asks, startling me as he slips around the corner with a tray full of food, causing my eyes to light up my whole face.
"I never thought I would have to be jealous of a burger and fries. I would kill for a girl to look at me the way you look at food. I think you're literally glowing."
"So, you're just going to pretend you don't have millions of followers who literally look at everything you post like that? Come on. Gimme my food already."
He's looking over my shoulder as we sit side by side browsing through pictures and shoveling fries into our mouths.
"And this one is my least favorite." I say scrolling to a picture with his tongue out, flipping me off.
"But I love that one." He whines.
"Why the fuck do girls find pictures like this attractive? I just don't get it." He flicks his tongue at me quickly just as I shove another french fry into my mouth. "Bruh, I'm trying to eat my dinner in peace, here."
My distress does little to deter his next stunt. In fact, I'm fairly sure it only encourages it. He takes a quick glance of his surroundings before slowly flicking his tongue across his teeth again and then proceeding to show me just how long his tongue actually is.
And it is long. I mean, like hella long.
But that's not the point.
Geez, I have never met anyone who is this comfortable doing whatever the fuck they want in public. Who the hell has given him the audacity to be this way, and is it possible to transfer some of his brazen confidence to me? I think it would greatly benefit both of us.
"Declan Wilder, what the fuck is wrong with you." I shake my head in disappointment as he just laughs. "What am I going to do with you?"
"Keep me around for as long as you can, so you can actually have something interesting in your life. Come on." He says dragging me up off the bench once we've finished our dinner. "I've officially invited you to scary movie night. The first person who jumps or screams is a loser."
It's me. I already know. I'm the loser.