Not If I Date You First

Chapter 1

"It's only the best celebrity photo agency in New York."

Charlie's eyes fall to the camera and magazine sitting on the counter in front of me. "Wait. You're not going to be a paparazzi, are you?"

I frown, wishing people would stop saying it like that. "Paparazzi-in-training, technically," I say. "It's an internship."

For now, anyway. The welcome email my boss sent me said there's potential for it to become a permanent position at the end of the summer. I'm going to do whatever it takes to make that happen.

"You just don't seem like the type."

I cross my arms. "And what type is that? A guy?"

"No...I didn't...You know what I mean." Charlie's eyes drop. He twists the rag in his hands, clearly flustered.

"I don't, actually."

"Don't you have to be really aggressive in that business?"

"I can hold my own."

"If you say so." Charlie purses his lips. "It just seems unethical to invade people's privacy like that."

"It's not that simple." I slump back against the barstool. I don't disagree with him exactly, but the whole celebrity-paparazzi dynamic is much more complicated than people realize.

To land big roles and endorsement deals, most celebrities have to keep themselves in the limelight. When they go out, their publicists actually call the paparazzi to make sure they're photographed. There are undeniably photogs who cross the line, taking photos that do violate people's privacy. Some even chase celebrities down, putting everyone in potentially dangerous situations. But I don't want to be like them.

I want to take pictures of celebs on red carpets looking glamorous and iconic. I want to create a glitzy, sparkling dream world people can escape into through my photography. I want to develop relationships with the celebrities my grandmother and I idolized. I want to be the person publicists call for photo ops. To do that, though, I have to nail this internship. My dreams can only come true if I establish myself as a legit photog. Which means doing whatever it takes to set myself apart from Huntley's other interns.

Charlie makes a humph sound. "If you say so."

"Better let it go, Charlie. Ada knows way more about this than you do and will tolerate no mansplaining on the topic." Elodie walks over with so much pep in her step that it's more like bouncing. Her Nikes squeak against the linoleum. Her chestnut hair is piled into the messiest of buns on top of her head, and she's wearing a t-shirt that says, 'Today's Good Mood Sponsored By Coffee.'

She isn't wrong. I know as much about the paparazzi-celebrity dynamic as possible without having been one yet, and I hate that everyone thinks all of us paparazzi are villains.

Us. As of today, I will officially be one of them. I can't hide the smile that stretches across my face. Charlie mutters something before turning to wipe down the back counter. I can't quite understand what he's saying, but I choose to believe it's something nice.

"So," Elodie chirps. "How are you feeling? Are you nervous? Are you pumped? I am so excited for you, Ada. Oh. I have something you've got to try." Her eyes are wide, and she's bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Uh-oh. This is next-level energy, even for Elodie. Whenever she gets like this, I end up sampling some bonkers new concoction she's come up with. Today is so not the day I want to start with a fireball espresso, a cheddar latte, or an elephant poop coffee. Yep. As in coffee made from beans pooped out by an elephant. I deserve a frickin' award for the beverages I've sampled for this girl.