Snapshot of a Story

“Okay, okay, turn slightly to your left, away from the light, and turn your head back towards it a bit - yeah, yeah, like that. But actually look down,” I continued to give orders to the football star I was currently photographing - his name was one I hadn’t heard before, Cesc - and tried not to let myself get too struck by his sheer beauty. The pictures were to go along with an interview he would be doing later that day with a newspaper here in Madrid. I knew I was pressed for time, partially because my schedule was always pressed for time and because as a professional football player, it was a rare day he had even a few minutes to spare. I took a few final shots and set my camera down on a nearby table, smiling and saying, “Alright, I think that’s it!”

He smiled as well, a brain melting smile that surely would’ve rendered me unable to form coherent thoughts, much less words, for at least a week if I hadn’t gotten used to being around gorgeous celebrities and athletes so much. “Great! Hopefully it wasn’t too difficult to get a shot.”

I mentally cried for a second, wondering how in the world someone like Cesc Fabregas didn’t think he could take a good picture. I couldn’t wait to start uploading them on my computer and edit them. “No, no, I’m sure they’ll turn out great! I’ll be sure to edit them soon and get the best ones to you!”

We exchanged a few small pleasantries before he was rushed off to his interview and I was given a small breather before my next appointment in an hour - some musician I had never heard of. I took the opportunity to get the pictures of Cesc downloading on my desktop computer at my office in the back of the studio before reappearing in the waiting room and leaning on the counter in front of my assistant, Ezra, who glanced up from his computer very briefly before finishing the sentence he was working on.
“Yes?”

“What do I have scheduled for tomorrow?” I asked, taking the planner from his desk before he even had time to reply. I threw it open to tomorrow’s date and stared at what he’d written: 1:30 - Sergio Ramos.

“No need to be so grabby,” he scoffed and took the planner back, though I knew he was joking. He was so intent on finishing the last paragraph of his email that it took him a minute or two to realize I was still in shock. “What’s your deal?”

“Sergio Ramos...I’m taking his picture tomorrow?” I was totally shocked, not at the fact that I would have the honor of photographing one of the most famous, talented and beautiful athletes in the world, but for another reason entirely.

“Uh yeah, GQ ordered the shoot...is there a problem?” Ezra was still completely confused.

“Well I wouldn’t say there was a problem, exactly. It’s just going to be...weird.”

“And why is that?”


“I went to school with him when I was little.”