I had just finished editing the last of my social media posts for the evening, the soft glow of my laptop casting gentle shadows across the room, when my phone buzzed. Another notification, another comment, another routine reminder that my career was always a step ahead—or sometimes a step behind—depending on where I wanted it to be. I almost ignored it, expecting the usual promotional pitch or spam. But curiosity got the better of me, and I unlocked the screen.
"Hey Jasmine, love your work. Want to collaborate on a project?"
The message was brief, casual, polite, yet it made my pulse flutter in a way I couldn't quite explain. It was from Bryan—a name I vaguely recognized from a few online posts, a makeup artist who maintained a modest following but seemed to have an impressive portfolio. My first instinct was to check the time. Was I too tired for this? My evenings were usually reserved for editing content, planning shoots, or answering emails. I hesitated. I didn't know him. I didn't know his intentions. Yet something about the simplicity and confidence in the tone made me pause.
I stared at the text, thumb hovering over the reply button, my mind spinning. Was it professional? Or just another gimmick? I had learned to be cautious—social media was full of people with hidden agendas. And yet… there was curiosity there. A small spark whispered that I might miss something if I brushed this off. I typed carefully, neutral and professional:
"Hi Bryan, thanks for reaching out. Can you tell me more about the project?"
His reply came almost instantly:
"Of course! It's a collaborative series showcasing different approaches to beauty and self-expression. I think your style would fit perfectly. No pressure, just thought it could be fun to create something meaningful together."
I leaned back, exhaling slowly. He wasn't pushy, wasn't demanding—just confident, professional, and respectful. I tapped my fingers on the desk, weighing the opportunity. My career had been growing steadily, but the chance to collaborate with someone who might complement my vision was tempting. Still, I hesitated.
"What if it's a waste of time?" I muttered under my breath. "What if he's not serious?"
Even as I thought it, I found myself scrolling through his profile, clicking links to his past work. Each post revealed a careful eye, a creative mind, a knack for capturing more than the surface of his subjects. His work wasn't just makeup—it was art. Subtle energy flowed through each shot, something I rarely saw in other artists. I felt a pull of genuine curiosity, that flicker of excitement that comes when a project feels like it could be… different.
I couldn't deny it—I wanted to know more.
Minutes later, we were exchanging messages, discussing ideas. He asked about my aesthetic, my preferences, even my goals for the project. He listened. He responded thoughtfully. The conversation was professional yet engaging in a way that made me smile more than I expected.
I glanced at the clock. My apartment was quiet except for the hum of my laptop and the distant wail of a siren. The world felt suspended in a rare slice of calm. I realized I was actually looking forward to our next interaction. Curiosity had shifted subtly toward personal intrigue, though I refused to admit it outright. I was cautious; I had to be.
"Let's set up a call," he suggested. "It'll be easier to discuss ideas in real time."
I hesitated. Zoom calls felt formal, sometimes awkward, especially with someone I didn't know well. But career instincts nudged me forward. Opportunities rarely waited—they appeared and demanded response, and acting—or hesitating—defined whether you succeeded.
"Okay," I typed finally. "Let's do a call. When are you available?"
He replied almost immediately with a time that fit my schedule perfectly. I closed the laptop, my heart fluttering faintly. It was just a call… between professionals. That was all.
The next morning, a follow-up ping lit up my phone:
"Looking forward to our call later today. Excited to hear your ideas."
I smiled. His excitement was contagious. I typed a brief acknowledgment, keeping it professional, yet a small thrill lingered in my chest.
As I reviewed my portfolio for the call, I realized I was no longer just thinking about the project. I was imagining his reactions, his vision, how our ideas might merge. A part of me recognized this curiosity for what it was—the first flicker of interest—not just professional, but personal. For someone usually so guarded, it was thrilling and terrifying all at once.
I spread my notebook across the table, scribbling notes, sketches, and ideas: lighting, angles, makeup styles, social media strategies. The more I planned, the more I realized how much I wanted this to succeed—not just for my career, but because Bryan's spark of curiosity lingered in my chest, subtle and persistent.
I paused, pen hovering over the page. For so long, my life revolved around control—schedules, images, the perception I curated online. The idea of letting someone else into that world—even professionally—was both thrilling and frightening. There was a vulnerability in collaboration, a risk that left my stomach fluttering with anticipation.
And yet… I wanted this. I wanted to see what could happen if I allowed this new creative mind into my carefully orchestrated space. I allowed myself a secret thrill, imagining sparks of inspiration, the possibility of creating something extraordinary.
Questions flickered through my mind. Who was he, really? Could someone so professional also be someone I could connect with? Would our working styles clash, or somehow complement each other?
For the first time in a long while, I felt like the future held not just possibility, but promise. And it all began with a simple DM.