Awkward

Izzy presses her palm flat over the front of her underwear, fingers splayed wide to cover herself as much as she can. The pink dress is still bunched around her hips, and she can feel the heat of her own embarrassment radiating through her skin.

"I'm so sorry," she says, voice small and muffled against her own nerves. "I didn't mean to—I wasn't thinking about how it looked from your angle. I was just following what you said."

Marcus lowers the phone, his expression calm, not teasing. He sets it down on the nightstand and takes a half-step back, giving her space.

"Hey, it's okay. You didn't do anything wrong. It happens all the time in shoots. The model doesn't always know what the camera sees."

Izzy keeps her hand pressed over her underwear, her thighs pressed together beneath the fabric of the dress. Her cheeks are still warm, but she's not panicking. She's just embarrassed, like slipping on a wet floor in public.

"I should have paid more attention," she says softly. "I got so caught up in posing that I forgot to check, you know, what I was showing."

Marcus shrugs. "That's my job, honestly. I should've told you sooner. I was just focused on getting the shot, and you were doing so well I didn't want to break the flow."

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