Freelancer

She gestures vaguely at the phone, then at the room, then at nothing. Her bare toes curl against the sheet.

"Sorry you had to see that," she mutters, looking down at her lap. "I didn't hear the door."

“No, don’t apologise at all. I understand how this can be embarrassing but i’m actually a freelance photographer so I’ve seen it all!” Marcus replies, trying to kill the awkwardness. “If you want, I can help you out?” he blurts out, not really sure of what he’s saying.

Izzy looks up at Marcus with wide eyes, her cheeks still flushed from being caught. She hugs the hem of the pink mini dress a little tighter against her thighs, bare feet fidgeting against the sheets.

"Freelance camera man?" she echoes, tilting her head. Her voice is soft, cautious, but there's a spark of curiosity in it. "You mean like... you actually do photography? Like, professionally?"

She glances down at her phone, then back at him. The thought of someone else seeing her like this—someone who actually knows what they're doing—makes her stomach flip. But the idea of finally getting a photo that Joe would actually like, that she wouldn't delete after three seconds, is tempting.