In the chaos, her phone screen had cracked, and the leather bag she'd been carrying fell sideways, spilling cosmetics and papers onto the pavement.
"Oh no, my phone! This is terrible." Layra's hands trembled as she reached for her belongings. "Things were already bad enough, and now this..."
Before she could fully extend her arm, Shawn was already moving, collecting her scattered items. He carefully picked up her phone, noting the spiderweb crack across the screen, then gathered her scattered papers and cosmetics.
"It's not completely shattered. You should still be able to use it." He handed the phone back to her and then placed her items back into her bag. "Where were you heading in such a hurry? I can help you get there if you don't mind."
Layra accepted her phone with a grateful but strained expression. "I am scheduled for a photoshoot a couple of blocks away at noon. That's why I was in such a rush." She glanced at her phone, her brow furrowing. "I'm already cutting it close."
"Let me help you then." Shawn stood and offered her a hand. "You almost twisted your ankle, so it's not safe for you to walk alone. Besides, you'll be late if you keep moving so slowly."
After a brief hesitation, Layra accepted his offer and allowed him to help her up. She tested her weight on her ankle and frowned. "It hurts more than I thought."
"Lean on me then." Shawn positioned himself so she could use him as support. "We'll get there in time. Don't worry."
With that, they started walking towards the studio, Layra leaning against Shawn for support with her arm around his shoulder. Her body was warm against his side, and he could smell the faint scent of roses from her perfume.
Despite the urgency of their situation, Layra couldn't help but notice how steady and strong Shawn felt beside her. His presence was surprisingly comforting, making her feel safer than she had in weeks.
"What's your name?" she asked, her blue eyes looking directly into his.
"Shawn. And yours?"
"Layra. Layra Anderson."
"It's nice to meet you, Layra." A small smile played on Shawn's lips as they continued walking. "Even if it had to be under such circumstances."
Layra found herself smiling back, a genuine smile that reached her eyes. "The circumstances could have been worse, I suppose. I could be lying in a hospital right now."
"Well, you're not. Which is what matters." Shawn tightened his grip around her waist as they crossed a busy street. "So, Layra, what kind of photoshoot are you heading to?"
Before she could answer, her phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced down to see a message from her agency: [Where are you? The photographer is waiting.]
Layra's shoulders slumped slightly. "I'm in trouble. They're already waiting for me, and I'm still a block away."
"Don't worry, let me handle this." Shawn picked her up in a princess carry, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back. Layra gasped, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck for balance.
"What are you doing, Shawn? Put me down!" she protested, though her hold on him tightened rather than loosened.
"I'm getting you to your photoshoot on time." Shawn started jogging down the sidewalk, his steps steady despite her weight in his arms. "You said your ankle hurts, right? This is faster."
Layra's cheeks flushed as she adjusted to being carried. She never expected a complete stranger to scoop her up and carry her like she weighed nothing. "You're crazy. You know that, right?"
"Maybe," Shawn grinned, not breaking stride. "But you'll make your appointment."
Soon they arrived at their destination and entered the building. The studio was on the third floor of a commercial building that housed various other businesses.
The receptionist looked up as they entered, her expression turning from professional to surprised. "May I help you?"
"I'm Layra Anderson. I have a photoshoot scheduled," Layra answered, still in Shawn's arms. "I had a small accident, but I'm here now."
The receptionist's gaze moved from Layra to Shawn and back again. "Alright. You can take the elevator to the third floor. I'm already aware of your appointment, so you're good to go."
Shawn carried Layra to the elevator and rode it up with her. When the doors opened, they found themselves in a spacious hallway with several doors on either side.
"Studio 3 is at the end of the hall," Layra said, pointing with her free hand.
Shawn nodded and carried her toward the door, which was slightly ajar. Light spilled out from the gap, along with muffled voices.
He pushed it open with his foot and stepped inside. The studio was larger than Shawn expected, with high ceilings and white walls. Various photography equipment was scattered around the room—light stands, reflectors, and different backdrops rolled up against one wall.
Several people were busy setting up the equipment, but they all stopped what they were doing when they saw Shawn carrying Layra into the room.
A middle-aged man with a potbelly and a camera hanging around his neck rushed over, his face red with anger. "Layra! Where have you been? Don't you know we're on a tight schedule?"
Before Layra could respond, a woman with red hair pulled back in a bun stepped between them. "Frank, calm down. Can't you see she's injured?"
The photographer, Frank, seemed to notice Layra in Shawn's arms for the first time. "What happened to you? And who's this?"
"I had a little accident on my way here. But don't worry, I can still do the shoot." Layra started to squirm, signaling for Shawn to put her down. "This is Shawn. He helped me get here safely."
Shawn carefully lowered her feet to the ground, keeping one arm around her waist for support. "She twisted her ankle. Might be best if she doesn't put too much weight on it."
The woman with the bun examined Layra for a moment before turning to Shawn. "Thank you for bringing her. I'm Rebecca, the studio manager. We can take it from here."
Frank grumbled something under his breath but didn't protest further. "Fine. But we're already behind schedule. Let's get her into makeup and wardrobe ASAP."
Rebecca led Layra to a curtained-off area at the side of the studio, while Shawn found himself awkwardly standing near the entrance, unsure whether to leave or stay.
Just then, Layra turned back to him over Rebecca's shoulder. "Shawn? Could you... wait for me? I would like to thank you properly after the shoot."
Rebecca paused, eyeing Shawn for a moment before shrugging. "You can watch from over there if you want," she said, pointing to a small seating area in the corner. "Just stay out of the way."