My makeup is carefully reapplied and my hair is curled. I look much
younger than my nearly twenty-five years. Then again, that’s the look the
makeup artists are trying to achieve. Once my makeup is done, I’m dressed in a
pair of brown corduroy pants and a peasant-like blouse. I took some test shots
as I waited for Edward.
A short time later, Edward appeared and he was wearing a pair of dark
wash jeans, a light blue button down shirt and a gray pea coat. His bronze hair
was now a deep chocolate brown and his pale skin was white from the makeup.
Now, unlike when I shot these photos with James, Edward was not wearing the
golden contact lenses. His eyes were the perfect match of what the eyes should
be for a vegetarian vampire. I heard the photographer say that they’ll enhance
Edward’s eyes with photoshop.
“Okay, Bella and Edward,” the photographer, Paul, chirped, “I want Edward
to stand behind Bella with his arm around her shoulders. Lightly grasp her hip.
Bella, hold on to Edward’s forearm. Edward give me a fierce, protective look on
your face; Bella, a slightly scared expression with a touch of love. Okay?”
We both nodded and took our spots. Edward’s hard body was pressed against
mine as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. His other hand lightly took a
hold of my hip. I gripped his arm and looked into the camera. We took our
pictures, moving easily with each other. Edward’s former modeling helped him a
great deal and he actually helped me. We took several other poses before the
rest of the ‘family’ joined us.
An hour later, the photo shoot is done and we are changing back into our
street clothes. Edward was leaving to go work with the stunt coordinator while
I was heading back to my condo to pack for my trip with Alice, Esme and now,
apparently, Angela. I parked my car into my spot and rode up to my condo. My
phone was blaring as I was entering my place. I picked it up. “Hello?”
“Ms. Swan, you have a visitor,” the doorman said.
“Do you know who it is?” I asked, my hackles going up.
“He says he’s your father.”
“What does he look like?” I whispered.
“Tall, about 5’10”. Dark hair, dark eyes, mustache, wearing a uniform?”
“Where? Where’s the uniform from?”
“Forks.”
No comments:
Post a Comment