Top of the Class
Christina Dominguez is goingto be myundoing.
I scan through the dozens of photos of her I’ve just transferred to my laptop. I know I have to narrow what we’ll use for the campaign down to about ten, but deleting even one feels like acrime.
We timed the shoot perfectly, the fading daylight painting the white of the studio gold and giving Christina’s features the exact kind of soft glow we were aiming for. Her curves alone would be enough to give anyone with eyes a heart attack, but that’s not what I’m staring at as I click betweenphotos.
I haven’t done any portrait work in a long time, and looking at the shots of Christina, I remember why it’s my favourite type of photography. When handled correctly, there’s nothing better than a camera for revealing who someone really is, for digging down past all the walls and bringing up the brutally raw, achingly honest truth. Anyone can take a picture of a mask, but a skilled photographer can show what’s behind that mask without even asking their subject to take itoff.
That’s always been the goal of my work: truth. I don’t want to take pictures of what everyone else sees; I want to take pictures of the things they miss, of what’s hiding behind a raised eyebrow or a trembling hand. Everything that makes up my images— composition, lighting, the exact moment when I snap the shutter closed— is about that: leaving my subjects defenceless and exposed, unable to hide whatever beauty or ugliness they have insidethem.
Christina is allbeauty.
We didn’t plan the sections of the shoot around her personality, but they’ve each ended up showing a different part of who she is. Staring out the window in that blue bra with a no-nonsense look on her face, she’s the confident woman who’s at the top of all her classes and doesn’t take no for an answer. Dancing around to AC/DC, she’s the girl with an easy laugh and a flush of insecurity, a version of her I don’t think many people get to see. Lying on the couch, staring up at me with her lip between her teeth,she’s...
Sexy asfuck.
Which is highlyproblematic.
I noticed Christina Dominguez on my very first day of ad school, and I knew she was going to mean trouble. She walked into the room like she owned the place and started serving up searing comebacks with a smart mouth that just wouldn’tquit.
Women like her are the reason I act like an asshole. It’s easier to give up on getting close to a girl if I force her to write me off before she’s even gotten the chance to know me. I might have half the college campus clamouring for my phone number, but I know that’s just about looks and attitude. No one tries to get deeper than the surface because I’ve made myself seem like a person who’sallsurface.
I’ve spent so much time figuring out how to break down people’s walls with a camera that when I decided to put up my own walls, it was easy. I push away anyone I feel the urge to get close to with sarcasm and irritating nicknames, and get left all to my lonesome on the ‘Planet of theDouche.’
That’s exactly how I wantit.
* * *
“Do you have the stuff?”
Christina’s eyes are frantic as she approaches me in the parking lot. From the purple half moons underneath them, it’s clear she’s gotten as little sleep as me these past two days. I was up working on the project until three in the morning lastnight.
“No,” I reply, shutting my car door behind me. “I forgot it all athome.”
Her jaw drops open and I have to laugh as she clutches her face in an expression of horror that makes her look just like the cover ofHomeAlone.
“Relax, Dominguez. It’s all in thecar.”
Annoyance replaces her panic. “Don’t test me, Penn. Not today. Today is the day we qualify to present in front of Epsilon Media, and I do not need any stupid jokes putting me even more onedge.”
“Epsilon Media?” Irepeat.
She nods. “Gary showed me the list of attendees for the showcase. Epsilon is coming for the first timeever.”
“Gary showed you the list? Teacher’spet.”
I smirk at her and she glares in return. It’s a common exchange betweenus.
We gather up all the project materials from the back seat of my car and head into the main campus building. We’re doing class presentations of our projects today, and seeing as Miss Teacher’s Pet volunteered us to go first, Gary’s letting us set upearly.
Christina holds the door of the classroom open for me and I edge inside, careful not to knock the large posters I’m holding against anything. I don’t think Gary expects us to do much besides display our ads on the Smart Board, but we decided to go the extra mile and get printsdone.
Christina starts setting up the stands I’ve brought and I pull the protective wrapping off the posters. I only picked them up this morning, and aside from a brief glance to make sure everything printed alright, I haven’t had a chance to seethem.
“Close your eyes,” I tell her, once she’s got the stands all inplace.
“What?”
