Chapter 2

The heavy glass doors of the studio foyer felt like a ton of bricks as I rushed to push them open. My palms were slick against the leather strap of my camera bag, my heart hammering out a nervous rhythm against my ribs.

I was fucking late!

"Shit, shit, shit!” I rushed down the hallway. Almost slipped several times and occasionally bumped into staff members passing by.

“I’m sorry!” I didn’t even glance back to apologize properly, nor did I have any intention of slowing down.

After yesterday’s torrential downpour and the whirlwind start at Grand Central, today was supposed to be my official introduction to the members.

And this was not the first impression I want to made.

"Where’s the briefing room? Where is it... uh—”

For a relatively new agency that had gotten ridiculously lucky with their first boy band becoming an overnight sensation, the office was surprisingly huge.

“Oh, there you are!”

I sprinted toward the briefing room and shoved the door open.

The chatter inside suddenly died.

The makeup artists who had been busy getting the four members of the boy band ready froze mid-motion. Every pair of eyes turned toward me as I stood there, still gripping the door handle, my head lowered as I tried to catch my breath.

Realizing how awkward the situation had become, I quickly straightened up and tried to compose myself.

“Ahem, I—” I stepped inside, giving everyone an awkward smile.

Thankfully, they went back to what they were doing. I glanced toward their manager, only to find him letting out a long, exhausted sigh.

“I’m terribly sorry for being late, Sir."

The tall, slightly stocky man approached and scanning me from top to toe.

I was wearing all black today like others staff. And only then did I realize that my shirt was half-tucked, half-untucked. I hadn’t had enough time to fix my hair either. I’d simply tied it up in a haphazard ponytail, leaving it messy from all the running earlier.

“Everyone, quiet down for a second.”

The manager’s voice cut through the commotion, drawing everyone’s attention once again.

“This is our new embedded photographer, Miss Rose Blaked. She’ll be documenting the entire album preparation process this week. You’ll need to keep her in the loop so she can get the best shots.”

“We’ll start in an hour. Good luck!”

The man patted my shoulder before walking out of the room, leaving me standing there in the middle of the four members, who were already ready to begin.

I swallowed hard, forcing my shoulders back.

“Hi.” I waved at them, putting on my brightest smile despite the embarrassment and nervousness twisting inside me.

The tension in the room suddenly felt unbearably heavy.

Three of them waved back before turning to their makeup artists—except for one. He is Alexander Willhood.

One of the sexiest members of The Clock, I’d seen his posters plastered all over the city, more than any of the others. He stared at me for a long moment.

I turned my head, wondering if he might be looking at something behind me. But when I looked back, his eyes were still fixed on me.

My nerves went taut as he stepped closer, my heart was pounding harder.

“Good luck,” he said, looking straight into my eyes.

His eyes were captivating. There was something about them that stirred a strange sense of dejavu in me.

I smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”

**

Grand Central Terminal’s Vanderbilt Hall crackled with electric energy. Hundreds of screaming fans packed the barricaded areas for The Clock meet-and-greet, their deafening cheers surging through the hall and vibrating straight through the soles of my sneakers.

"Jason!!!"

“Oh my god, Daniel!”

"Henry please look over here!!"

"Alex I love you!!"

They were screaming like a maniac.

My knuckles were white as I gripped my camera body, the heavy lens feeling like a lead weight in my trembling hands. The nervousness of being a photographer for such a famous boy band had never even crossed my mind.

I could hear the fans screaming all around me, and I could see everything through my camera lens. This was amazing!

Then the members began to appear on stage, and the roar of the crowd swelled again, filling the entire hall.

“Aagrrrh! Oh my fucking God! Are they even real?!”

The fans cheered and shed tears of joy.

I slipped into the middle of the orderly crowd and started taking photos.

My camera focused on Henry, a black-haired man with a chiseled jaw. Every shot I took turned out beautifully. He was ridiculously handsome, and somehow, the camera seemed to love him.

Then I turned to the other members.

Jason was the shortest of the four, with the youngest-looking face—the classic 'soft boy' type. Daniel walked in the middle, compared to the others, he had the most mature appearance.

Then my lens shifted toward Alex.

I was slightly surprised when I raised my camera. The moment I pointed it at him, he was already looking straight at me, as if our eyes had met through the viewfinder.

“Oh shit, he is so freaking handsome,” I muttered under my breath.

I wanted to keep photographing him, but I quickly straightened up and forced myself back into professional mode. I began taking wider shots of the group as a whole, following them as they moved around and delivered their brief speech.

Yet, something felt strangely off.

Whenever I moved to photograph one of the other members, Alex somehow seemed to end up in my frame.

I stepped to the side to capture Jason signing a fan’s shirt, and suddenly, there he was in the corner of my viewfinder, casually leaning against a display pillar.

Again.

I frowned, lowering the camera for a second to give him a pointed look. Surely it's a coincidence, I thought, shaking my head and forcing my focus back to work. I raised the lens again, aiming for a wide shot of the far end of the stage.

As my camera shifted back toward him, I caught him looking straight at me. Smiling.