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Forever in my heart.
1.Thorn
FiveMonthsLater
2.Luca
3.Thorn
4 Luca
5.Thorn
Author'sNote
OtherWorks
AboutTheAuthor
FurtherAcknowledgements
Contents
Thorn
I
checkmywatch,justtomakesureI’mnotwrong.
Butno,it’s12:43PM.
Theagentwhocalledmesaidhewouldmeetmeat12:00PM,thoughit’sapparenthe’snotcoming Thewomanbehindthereceptiondeskkeepsshootingmereassuringsmiles,whichwasoneofthereasonsI’mstaying. Andtheyhavefish
The lobbyis stark, at least bymystandards. Everythingis a confusingmixof blackand white, alternatingstripes onthe walls, mismatched tiles under my feet, the three sofas; black with white pillows, not to mention the metal coffee table supportingalargewhitevasewithblackroses I’mnotsureifthereceptionistwearsblackeveryday,butithelpscompletethe set.
The onlyparts ofthe lobbythataren’tblackare the brightfull-sized portraits ofGodGivenTalents’mostfamous models hangingonthe walls, and a single orange clownfishamongstthe other five blackand whites inthe large tankbythe French windowsthatlookontothestreet
Perchedonthe sofa,Iclutchthe A4hardbackfolder restingonmyknees.It’s supposedtobe myportfoliobut,apartfrom extensiveresearch,Ihavenothingtospeakof.
Compared to the sleekmodels smirkingdownonme fromabove, I’mtiny Eachone is gorgeous, moulded to perfection, while everythingaboutme is simplywide. Forehead, cheeks, neck, shoulders;all the waydownto myfeet. I’ve seenmale modelswiththesamebuild,sametanskin,samecombinationofbrownhairandbrowneyes,anditletsmedream,atleast Iopenthe folder and glance atthe photo ontop. Iused the lastofmysavings to payfor professional photos ofmyselfin variouspolishedposesagainstablackbackground Ireallydidtrymybest,butwithanotherglanceatthepicturesofbeautyon thewalls,itcertainlyfeelslikeit’snotenough.
Eachtimethelobbydoorsslideopen,myheadwhipsfromthefishtanktoseeifit’sthemanwhohadphonedmelastweek. I’vealreadyfoundphotosofhimontheirwebsite,butnowIwonderifhe’seveninthebuilding
IemailedeverymodellingagencyIcouldfindinLondon.EventhelargestonessuchasGodGivenTalent.Consideringmy lackofexperience,Ineverexpectedaresponse
I’mfollowingthelazypathoftheorangeclownfishwhentheglassdoorbesideitopensandaportlymanwalksthrough.His blacksuitmatchesthedecor,asdoesthewhitedressofthewomanbehindhim.
Irecognise himinstantly.Kaito,one ofthe mostinfluential menonthe Londonfashionscene,andthe owner ofGodGiven Talent.HisGreekheritagegrantshimatallphysique,asharpface,andahandsomeolivetingeofhisskinthatsetshimapart fromthejarringstyleoftheroom Withhisphonefastenedtohisearandhisgazefixedontheelevatordoorsdirectlyaheadof him,hehasnoideaI’mhere.
MybloodpicksupasIshiftinmyseat Heartpounding,handstight,Itrackhismovementsashestridespastme Iknow I needtodosomething.Ican'tmissthisopportunity.
Butthe bridge betweenmythoughts and myactions is so wide thatI’mglued to the sofa. The world grows tight, myfeet plasteredtothefloor,toescurlingintheMaganni'sIspentthreemonthssavingfor.
Idipmychin,eyesonthefloor,bitingtheinsideofmylipasthefirsttremorsofcool shamerattlethroughmybody.Ihad enoughconfidencetoenterthebuilding,butI’matmylimitalready AllIcandoiswaitfortheheavyfootstepsbouncingoffthe wallsoftheshininglobbytofade.
Ihadbeenplanningthisforoverayear,steadilyworkingtoreachaplacewhereIcouldactuallymakesomethingofmyself, butit'snouse.Itneveris.
“You.”Iflinchas adeepvoicecovers me,cuttingthroughmydarkspiral as apair ofblackbuffedshoes comeintoview.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
Mygazesnapsup,meetingKaito’shardglare,andIinstantlyjerkmyheadback.Ican'thelpit.Hispresenceissointenseit’s asifI'malreadycrumblingunderhim
Hetosseshisphonetothewomanbehindhimwhocatchesitwithease,slippingitintoherwhiteleatherbag,neitherofthem takingtheirattentionoffofme
Iblinkrapidly,tryingtogathermyselfandsaysomethingatleastmildlypolite.ButIbarelymakeasound.Ihaven’tfounda waytooverridethecloyingfearthatsuffocatesmewheneversomethingunexpectedoccurs Kaitoisstaringatme,waiting,andtoomanysecondshavegoneby.IneedtorespondbeforeherealiseshowstrangeIam.
“Twelveo’clock,”Icroak,tonguedry,thepressureofthemomentstealingmyvoice,likeitdoeseverytimesomeonefocuses onme It'saterribletraitforamodeltoevenbeginwith “Excuseme?”Histhickblackbrowsrise,thetwowordsbeatingintomelikeadrum.
Iclearmythroat,butit'stoomuchalready Theyarerearingovermelikesentinels,trappingmeonthesofafrombothsides Iforcemybreathdowntomystomach,stemmingmyneedtoheavemychestandcleartheringingbuildinginmyears. Liftingatremblinghand,Iholdmyportfoliouptohim “Appointment,”Isaywithmoredignity Claspingmylips,Iswallow mydisappointmentatmylackofclarity.
“Hmph,”Kaitogruntsasheswipesthefolder,openingitup.IhopehemissesthemarksI'veleftonthespinefrommysweaty palms I clench my fists. The dull pain of my manicured nails helps bring me back into the roomas the air throbs around me. WhateverKaitosaysnextcouldtipthebalanceofmylife
IhatebeingflungintoasituationwhereIhavenochoicebuttosuccumbtotheoutcome.Rashdecisionsareonething,but willinglygivingsomeoneelsepowerovermeisdaunting.
Iftheconsequencesareunknown,Ihavenowayofpreparingaresponse.ButIneedthis.IfI’mevergoingtofindmymum,I havetoact.
Kaito’sexpressiondoesn’tchangeasheturnsthetwopagesofmyresumeandthefivepicturesIincludedinmyportfolio Theglossyprintscatchthebrightmiddaylightshininginfrombeyondthefishtank,glintingasheglaresatthem.
“Thorn?”Hesaysslowly,glancingupfromthefolderbriefly Igivehimaquicknod “Okay,fine.”KaitosnapsitclosedandItrynottojumpagainashereturnsitwithaflourish.Hetakesabackwardstepwith asingleclickofhisshoeandIstraightenmyself,shiftingmychestinthewayIpracticed,makingmyselfappearrelaxed,even thoughit’stoolate.
“Standup,”hebarks.“Iwantaproperlookatyou.”
Swallowinganother shakingbreath,Iverycarefullyplace the folder onthe sofa,focusingonmybody's movements rather thanthewayheexaminesmewithahum.
ImakesureIholdmyform;straightspine,chinflat,shouldersloose,readyingmyself GodGivenTalenthasclosetieswith YvesSaintLaurent,soIspecificallychoseoneoftheirAutumwearadvertstocopy.Sameshirt,jacketandtrousers,andIspent hours grooming my hair to imitate the model. I’ve been exercising, eating, sleeping and studying for weeks, all with the intentionofattendingthisinterview,justnotwithKaito
“Turn,”hesays,twirlinghisfinger,andIhastilybringmyarmsintothesameposeastheadvert.Handsonmyhips,elbows out,twistingslowlyononefootasIputmyselfondisplay IjusthopeIdon’tlookasstiffasIfeel Thankfully,thefisharestillfloatingintheirbliss,andgivemethecouragetoholdontight.
KaitotutsasIreturntomyoriginalposition,meetinghimheadon,thoughmystomachrollswiththeeffort Nauseacreepsup mychest,butIhavetohideit,thenumbtensionresultinginanevenblankerstarethanbefore.MostofthemodelsI’vestudied aimtobeexpressionless,whichismymainexpertise.
Kaitoturnstothewomaninthewhitedress “Jessica,pushmyoneo’clocktotwoandshowThornuptomyoffice” “Ofcourse,”shereplieswithacalmsmile.SheshiftstomakeroomforKaito,whoturnsandwalksawaywithmoreechoing clicks Mykneesnearlybuckleashegoes,inawethatsomeonelikehimactuallynoticedme I'msurethisissomethingpositive,butIdon'twanttogetaheadofmyself.Expectationsonlyleadtodisappointment.Andyet, Ihaven’tbeenabletostopmyselffromhopingsincetheyfirstrespondedtomyapplication “Ifyou’llfollowme,”Jessicasayskindly,tiltingherhead,herprofessionalsmilestillinplace. Idoassheasks,clutchingthefoldertomychestasKaitoglidestowardsthereceptiondesk,hishipsswayingasifhewason acatwalkagain Hewasaninternationalsuperstarbeforeheopenedtheagency,andhispoiseshowsitall Ihavenotimetoprepareforthis.Iexpectedaninterviewwithalow-rankingmanager.Theprocessmaybeexactlythesame, butIhaven'tresearchedKaitothoroughlyenoughtopredictanyoutcomes Worryingmybottomlip,IfollowJessica’spathtowardstheelevatorsonthefarrightoftheroom,prayingshewon'tattempt anysmall talk.Ithrow alastglancetotheclownfishastheelevator doorsslideopen,hopingtheywill givemestrengthand serenityinthehourtocome.
“Right, so, obviously, ifyousignthis contract, youworksolelyfor us Youtrainwithus, youdo the shoots we want, you advertiseus,yourepresentus.Thatclear?”Kaito’sgazebeatsintome,andIsimplyreturnit.Ican’tpickanotheroptionfrom theswarmofthoughtsthathavegatheredinmymindsinceIleftthelobby.
Iforcemypalmsagainstmythighs,cagingmyselfasInod,surehecan’tseethemtrembling.Terrorandelationclatteraround insidemelikethemismatchofblack-and-whitetilesinthelobby.
“Good ThoughIhavetoaskfirstthough,what’syouraimhere?Imean,you’vedefinitelygotthelooks,butIdon’ttakeon guyswhoaren’tdetermined.So,what’stheplan?”
Iswallow,clearingmythroatfortheeighthtimeinfiveminutes Hehasn'tdrawnattentiontoit,thoughitcan'thaveescaped him.MylungsaretootighttoformthewordsIneed,butI'vemadeitthisfar.Icandothis.
‘Wheredoyouseeyourselfinfiveyears?’wasoneofthekeyquestionsonall the‘commonjobinterview questions’web pages.Ialreadyknewtheanswer.
I want to become a model who is instantly recognisable for my dedication and commitment to every job I am given. I want to emulate the true beauty of modelling in the best way I can, to continue the tradition of representing the human body as art, and to be a distinguished platform for designers to present their work with pride.
IfIwas aloneinfrontofthe tall mirror inmybedroom,there wouldbe nohesitation I’vepracticeditahundredtimes to makesureIsayeachwordperfectly.
ButI’minastrangeroomwithastrangerinasituationIdidn'texpectmyselftobein.So,insteadofansweringhimproperly, myalreadyquickbreathsthickenandIclenchmyjaw,tryingtofindthewords
Iwanttofindmymumtoomuchtostopnow.It’sbeentwentyyears,andIhavenoideawheresheisorifshe’sevenalive. ThisisthemostprogressI’vemadeinyears
Ican’tspoilthis,eventhoughIwanttocower.Kaitopullshisbrowstogetherasifhe’sannoyedatme,whichonlymakesthe cloyingsensationinmychestevenheavier
“Iwanttobethebest,”Ichokeout.MychairlegsscreechonthewoodenfloorasIjumpbackathisnarrow stare.Alight heatflushesfrommychesttomycheeksatthehardpressofhislips.
Tense seconds pass, drippingaway with the steady tickof the clock, before Kaito’s shoulders relax “Perfect,” he says, “becauseIknow exactlywhatwe’regoingtodowithyou.Imean,you’vegotfuckallgoingforyoubasedonyourportfolio, butwecansortthatoutlater Iwanttogetyouintocirculationasquickaswecan I’vegotanewdietpilladwecanthrowyou intostart.There’snowayI’mwastingafaceandbodylikeyours.”
Heassesses mebeforeplantinghis palms onhis deskandrising,leaningtowards me “Areyoureadytogettowork?”he says.Thebottomofhiswidestomachmouldsaroundthehardedgeofhisdeskashereachesoutahandtoshake.
I rise with him, my fingers twitchingharshly before I extend myown. I haven’t beenable to practice this. Attempting a handshakebyyourselfistoodifficult MydadwastheonlypersonIwouldhaveaskedtohelpme,andhewantsnothingtodo withMum.I’malwaysworriedI’llslipupifIlietohim.
Kaito’shandscratchesminelikearough,wornstone,andhishandshakeissostrongandconfidentthatitvibratesuptomy neck.Hereleasesmeandleansback,givingmeasolidsmileasImanagetopushoutyetanothernodinreply.
“Fantastic,”hesays,pressingathumbtohischinashegivesmeafinalonceover.Istandtall,myheadheldhighatwhatI’ve achieved,thoughI’mnotactuallysureifIdidanything.Itfeelsasifhe’sdoneallthework.
Kaito, owner of one of the most prominent modellingagencies inLondon, folds his arms, givingme a humof approval. “Well,Thorn WelcometoGodgivenTalent”
Luca
uck,Ihurt.
Andnoteventhegoodol’outsidehurtIbroughtonmyselfbydrinking,snorting,orfuckingwhateverIcouldgetmyhands on No,becauseI’mafuckingidiotandgavemonogamyatry.
Ilastedsixmonths,sixbloodymonthsandthenfoundhiminbedlastnightwithsomecheap-assno-nameboybandmember Andallhecouldsaywas‘sorry’.Hedidn’tevenfuckingtrytogetmetoforgivehim. That’swhatI’mworthnow.
IpressmypalmagainstmymouthasIpushopenthedoortothestudio Themake-upartisthadalreadyhadherwaywithme, butit’sbetterfuckingupmylipsthanruiningmymascarabycrying.
That’sthelasttimeI’mgivingmyhearttoanyone Nomorelove,orgooeywarmshit,orevenfuckingfeelings I’mgoingto bepureicefromnowon.Itdoesn’tmatteriftheshoot’sthemeistropicaljungle.I’mfrozen,insideandout. Whichsounds cool tosay,butitdidn’tmeanshitwhenBlade walks uptome,puts his handonmyelbow andgentlyasks “Howareyou?”withthatsoftlookofconcernthatalwaysgetsme. Heknowsthat’stheworstthinghecanask.
I’mprettysureIlookpermanentlystartled Icouldn’tgetridoftheexpressionthismorning Itdoesn'tmatter how muchI've stuffeddownmypure shockandachingdisappointmentintothe big,emptyhole inside me thatcanonlybefilledwithastranger'scockoractuallove(whichisnevergoingtobeanoptionnow) Bladeisjustsofucking openthatIwanttodumpallmyshitontohimalready.
Iscowlratherthanlettinghimpullmeintothehughesoobviouslywants Thiswastheproblemwithhavingamasseuseasa bestfriend.Alltouchy-feely,andfartoofuckingunderstanding.Nowonderhalftheworldisinlovewithhim. He’s absolutelygorgeous,andthat’s comingfromme.Blonde hair like wheatona summer’s day,porcelainskin,the most crystalcleargreeneyesyou’lleversee There’salwaysbeenarumourwe’rebrothers Hehasanaturalwayabouthimthat’s allsoftnessandlightwhereasI’mjuststraightfuckedup;there’snothingtocompare.
Peoplecan’thelprelaxinginhispresence,andthateasetranslatesintothefinalshots,makinghimtheperfectmodelforany bigcorporationthatwantstoseemopen,friendlyandinnocent.Andthatwasbeforehegotintoacting.
He’snottallorwellbuilt,buthe’ssofuckingprettythatpeoplemeltassoonashesmiles.
We’dbothbeenchildmodels,andraninthesamecircles for years beforewestartedonbigger shoots inmoreglamorous locations.The onlyreasonIdidn'tjoinhimonthe silver screenwas because the longfilmingschedules were toomuchofa commitment Whichjustgoestofuckingshow
Bladegaveitallupyearsagoforhispassioninmassage,thoughhestilltakesonshootswhenhehastheurge.
Ishouldn’thavecalledhimlastnight IshouldhavejustwallowedinmyownmiseryinthehotelroomIgrabbedlastminute insteadofreachingout.Thiswasmyproblem.Icoulddealwithitmyself. That'swhatItoldhim,butwebothknowfromthelasttimesomeonefuckedmeupthatthat'snotwhatIwant. It’sacoincidencethathe’sherethedayaftermybreakup,butit’sarelieftohaveafamiliarfacearound. Hequietlyshifts,strokingmyshoulder.“Youknowyoucanalwaystalkif-” “Yeah,okay”Iliftmyarm,sweepinghimoffofme Hisfacecrumplesashishandslowlydrops,whichonlymakesmefeel moreshit.Regrettingitinstantly,Icasuallyeasemyvoice.“We’reatwork,B.Maybelater,alright?” Bladenods,givingmeoneofhissoulfulgazes Hesighsdelicatelybeforereplyingwithasimple,“Ofcourse,”thatprobably meansmorethanhe’ssaying,butI’mtoowiredtodecipherit. Bladestepsaside,andIfinallygetafullviewofthestudio.
Thesetup’salreadygratingonme,andI’mbarelythroughthedoor.CombinethatwithBlade’ssoftconcernandtheaching memoryofmyex-boyfriend’sfaceashewentdownonthattwink,plustheheavingmassofbodiesweavingaroundtheroom likefliestryingtogeteverythingsetup,andIwasonthefasttrackforashitday
Itakeinthemessofleavesandfakejunglebackgroundonthewideplatform,thehulkingstagelights,umbrellas,screensand cameras,aswellasthemodelsstandingaroundinpainfullybrightdressesandbillowingshirts,exactlylikethecanaryyellow onetheyhavemein.It’sfine.It’sjustadayofbendingovertreesandsimpering.Icandothatinmysleep.
“Ready?”Bladesaysaswestarttowardsthemainset
“As I’ll ever fuckingbe.” Iscowl,avoidinghimbyfocusingonthe set.IfBlade hits me withanother questionfilledwith careandunderstanding,Imightendupspillingtohimbeforeweevenstepinfrontofthecamera.Thenthey'llgettheirfucking shot It’sforDKNY,soithastocountforsomething.
Clenchingmyjaw,weapproachthemainset,thestronglightsbitingstraightintomyskull I’vedoneshootshungoverbefore; Ijusthaven’tdoneonewithabrokenheart.
Ilovebeingadramaqueen,butIdon’tevenhavetheenergyforthat
Imean,really,hefuckedthatfuckingtwinkinourfuckingbed.Werentedaflattogether.Ievenwantedafuckingpetandhe saidnobecauseIwasawaytoomuch.NowIknowwhy.Like,whatkindofabsolutecuntwould-
“Luca” Blade’s gentle voice cuts throughmyangrytirade as he places a cool hand onmylower back, givingme a light stroke.“Comeonnow.”
IpuffoutabreathasIpout,failingtokeepmyselfcomposed Maybethiswon’tbeaseasyasIthought.
BladeandIwalktowardsthetrioofcameramengroupedaroundthedirector,allofthemorderingthesitecrewaround.The setshouldhavebeenreadybythetimewearrived.ThisiswhyIdon’tlikeworkingwiththiscompany.That,andthefactthey usetotal newbiebackgroundmodelsfor their shoots.They'recheaper,buttheyscrew upmoreoften,andsomeofthemdon’t evengetthevibe
ButBladehadalreadyacceptedthejobbythetimetheysentmetheoffer,soI’mnotgoingtoquit.It'llbeafuckyoutomy fuckerofex HecanseehowhotIlookonthedayafterheleftme OrIlefthim Whatever
Besides,it’sbeenagessinceI'veworkedwithBlade,andifIwassomekindofidiot,Imightevenbelieveitwasablessing.
AsBladeandIreachaparticularlybushypalmtree,Igivethegaggleoftheextrashangingoutinthecornerbythecatering tableaonce-over.Thedullgreywallsofthestudiomakethemlooklikeaflockofparrotschatteringawayexcitedly.They’re probablyunawaretheyareinforaweekofachingmusclesbecausethedirectorseemstobelieveeveryoneisacontortionistat heart
Thoughthere’s one guywho’s juststandingthere, his weightshiftingbackand forth, followingthe chat, butnotspillinga singleword It’sraretomeetanextrawhodoesn’tvomitoutalltheirthoughtsandfeelingsthesecondtheyopentheirmouths The guyis atleasta head taller thanthe others. He mustbe hittingsix-five;straightstance, huge shoulders, and he looks stacked.Imean,Ican'tseethroughthebrightwallofloudextras,butfuck,Icantellhoweasyitwouldbeforhimtothrowme overhisshoulder,dragmetohislair,andrailmeuntilhe’ssated Fuckingfantastic.
They’vedressedhiminaforestgreenfrilledshirtthatreallyworkswithhistannedskinandlovelythickmuscles Though thepoorguylookssouncomfortablearoundtheotherextrasthatitjustmakeshimstandoutevenmore.Icatchhissideprofile, hisdarkhairsweepingthetopofhisears,hidinghisangularface
Themodelsallstopatonce,theirgazesswingingtomeandBladelikesomecreepyhorrormovie,includinghis. Whenmost,ifnotall,peopleseeme,theytendtolosetheirshit.Andnotjustbecauseofhow sexyIam.It’smyname,my brand,whatIrepresentasamodel Takethat,combineitwithBlade’sshiningpresence,andthere’snowayanyonecanignore us.Whichiswhyalltheextrasaremakingabeelineforus.
Buthim?Nothing Absolutelynoreactionwhatsoever It’sasifhedoesn’tknowwhoIam Hesimplywatchesfromhisspot astherestofthemodelsastheyflockaroundus,andthat’sit.
Whichis fuckingrude, if anythingelse There’s beensome guys who have tried this trickbefore Playinghard-to-get by actingliketheydon’tcare.Icanalwaystellwhenthey’reactuallyinterested,andsometimesI’mhappytoplayalong.
Butthisistheworstdayhecouldhavechosen,becauseIamnotinthemoodtobefuckedaroundwith.Ifhe’splayinghardto-gettopiquemyinterest,it’sworking
“Right! Let’s start getting ready!” Soren’s voice booms around the set. The director's a pretty wide man, and his voice carrieswell,buthehasaseriouspenchantforwearingponchosandweallhavetopolitelyignorethefactSorenlookslikean overfedllama.
“We’vebeen‘startingtogetready’forthreefuckinghours,”Ihuffamongstthecooingoftheextras. Bladenudgesmyshoulder,smilingatmelikeabloodyangel.“Complainingwon’tchangeanything,”hesays,clearlychiding me,thoughhasthisspecialabilitytomakeeverythingseemlovelywhenitreallyisn’t.It’soneofhissuperpowers.
“Fine,”Igrumble.“Butitmakesmefeelbetter.”
Thetechsarestillriflingthroughtheircables,sowedefinitelyhaveafewminutes.
Iglanceattheguyagain He’signoringmenow,headingtowardsatthesetwithoutasinglefuckingnodofacknowledgement insteadoffocusingonme,likeheshouldbe.Obviouslytryingthehoneypotmethod,waitingformetocometohim. And,sure,ifhehassomeotherreasonforpullingthisshit,thenI’llfigureitout Helookslikehecanbeagooddistraction, andhe’sthecompleteoppositeofmyarseholeofanex.Plus,therearealwaystheotherextrasifIwantaneasylay.
Peppyandhornyexcitableextras,orstandoffishandprobablyunavailablegiant Now,whichwouldIprefer?
“Takeyourpositions,everyone.Westartintwo!”Sorencallsout. Ipushthroughtheglitteringmassofextras,reachingthetallguybeforehepasses I’mnothavingsomenobodyignoreme Shootingoutahand,Iwrapmyfingersaroundhishardforearm,stoppinghimdeadinhistracks. Heblinksasheturns,hiseyesdroppingstraighttomyhand Ipause,amomentofhesitation,justbecauseofthepurefucking surpriseontheguy'sface.Ievenfeelsorryforhim,but,assoonashisfirmmusclestwitchundermytouch,Igoforit,because I’mnotmissingthischance IcatchaquiveringbreathasIshiftmythumb,etchingsmallcirclesonthegreensilkcoveringhis skin.
“Hi,”Isay,dippingmyvoice,hittinghimwithmyfamoussultrypurr,“I’mLuca.”
Heblinksagain Hischinlowers,a‘whatthefuckdoyouthinkyou’redoing?’energybeatingoffofhim
Lifting his head, his heavy dark gaze grabs me and my stomach flip-flops so hard I feel it in my throat. Which is bad. Seriouslyfuckingbad IonlygetthosewhenImeetanyoneremotelyinteresting Ihaven'tevensaidafullsentencetothisguy andhe'salreadygotme.
Spine straightening, I runmytongue over myteeth, holdingbacka sneer. The mainreasonI’mnursinga brokenheart is becauseIfollowedthosefuckingflip-flopsandlookwhereIamnow.
“Thorn,”hesays.Oneword,butitgoesstraighttomycock.And,evenworse,hiseyesborethroughmeasifhecanseehow fuckingbrokenIam
Thedepthofhisvoicesetsoffanotherflip-flop,andI’mtemptedtostepaway.ButIliterallydon’tgiveafuckaboutmyself today I’dratherpissaboutwithastrangerthangotoBlade’sandcryforhalfthenight I grin up at him. “Well, Thorn. What do you say you and I get out of here after the shoot and spend some quality time together?I’vegotagoodhotelroomtenminutesfromhere.”
Hisbrowhikes,hisneckjerkingbackasheblinksdownatme,butthat’sbasicallyallIget. Iwait.Andwait.Andwait.Andthere’snotasinglereply.
HejuststaresatmeblanklyasIstopmythumb Still,I’mlovinghowIcatchaquickbobofhisthroat Iwanttotrystroking uphisarm,testtoseewhatwouldhappenifIedgedmyfingertipsuphisnecktocurlaroundhisear.
“Youdon’t talkmuch, do you?” I say, runningmytongue over myteeth I need to prove that that fuckingflip-flop was a coincidence.“That’sokay,Icandoenoughmoaningforthebothofus.”
Herearsback;alongexhalethroughhisnoseistheonlyotherreactionIgetbeforehepullshisarmfrommygrip.
“Excuse me,” he says bluntly, side-steppingaround me, stridingofftowards the setwitha stupidlystraightback, his head heldhighforsomefuckingreason.
Myjawdropssoharditclicks,andI’mstillasIprocessthefactheliterallydidn’tgiveashitthatIjustofferedhimafree ride.
What the actual fuck?
Anyoneelse,andIliterallymeananyone else,wouldjumpatthechancetofuckme.There’snowaythisguydoesn’tcare.It hastobesomekindoftrick.
I spinaround as he takes his positionona large orange boxpartiallyhiddenbya palmleaf, blissfullyunaware of how honouredheshouldbethatsomeonelikemeevenspoketohim.
Iclenchmyjaw,foldingmyarms,therestofthemodelsandstafffadingawayasIzeroinonhim Maybehehasthehard-to-getgamedowntoaT,orhe’sjustaragingdickhead. Eitherway,he’saperfectchallengefortheday
Thorn
I
don’tthinkI’veeverfeltlikethisbefore.
Ididn’trealisethisiswhatmeetingyouridolfeelslike.It’sbothincrediblybizarreanddeeplyunnerving. Becausehe’srightthere Luca Intheflesh Model oftheYear awardwinner threeyearsinarow.HiredasthefaceofMarcJacobschildren'slinewhenhewasonly six-years-old Andhe’sstillfamousfortheoutrageouspinksheerdressheworetohisfirstyearattheMetGalatenyearsago, designedbyVeraWang.
NottomentionamodelI’vebeendrawntosinceIfirstsettheintentiontofullypursuethiscareer.
Andnow he'snoticedme,andstrokedme,andspoketomeinawaythat’slitmybodyonfire Thewhisper ofhisfingers stillburnsonmyskin,likehistouchistheonlycure.
Idon’tunderstandwhat’shappeningtome It’sasifIcan’tnotnoticehim I’mstuckhere,absorbedashebendsandstretches hisbody,thecameramenandothermodelscirclinghimlikeplanetstohissun.
Thedirectorhasplacedmeatthebackofthegroupoftwelve,simplyholdingpalmleavesasifI’matree Shelteredbythe foliagesurroundingtheset,it’sagreatwaytoobservethesceneunfold.
LucaandBladearebothmodelsI’vestudiedintensely.Blade'smodellingstyleismoreethereal,anditshowsinthewayhe glidesaroundtheset,asifhisfeetbarelytouchthefloor He’stheonlyofusdressedinwhite,andhestandsoutmorevividly thanevenLuca.
I'mnotonlydoingthistofindmymum IwouldneverhavetriedtopursuethiscareerifIdidn’thavesomeappreciationfor it.Asiftheyhavecastaspell,everyoneinthestudioiscompletelyconsumedwiththewayLucaandBladesmileandlaugh together Perched ona wide mossyplastic branchthatarches highenoughfor their toes to scrape the floor, theytake centre stage,andtheyknowtheybelongthere.
Blade,farmorefamousthanLuca,wonanAcademyAwardforhisachingromanticportrayalofabroken-heartedman,andit willalwaysbeoneofmyfavouritemovies Hesuddenlyendedhisactingcareerfiveyearsago,andonlyoccasionallymakes publicappearances,usuallywhenLucaisinvolved.Whichexplainswhysomeoftheextrascan’tstopstaringathim,likeI’m doingtoLuca
IfindBlademoredifficulttoemulate.Hisfilmshavebeenastapleofmylifeforatleasttenyears,andtherearethousands ofvideosofbothhisactingandmodellingonline.ThoughIcancopyhisslow,flawlessmovements,it’snotasnaturalformeas Luca’sboldstances.
Lucaridesthecurvedbranch,oneleghangingdownoneachsideashesmirksatBlade.He’swoundhisbrightredhairinto histrademarkbraid,butBlade’shangsfree Likeasheetofsoftsunlight,itslipsoverhisshouldersandpoursdownhisbackas hearcheshisneck,twistshishead,andfeedsthecameraasultryglance.
Iwanttobethere,Lucagracingmewithashiningopensmile,Bladerespondingwithagentlechucklethathasthemreaching foreachother,clearingthespacebetweenthem.
Mymanager, Dylan, spentmonths preparingme for shoots like this. This opportunitycame insuddenlythis morningwhen anothermodelcalledinsick,sowedidn’thavetimetomeet.
AllIneedtodonowis‘looktall’.I’mnotsurehowexactlyIamsupposedtoimproveonwhatI'malreadydoingwhenIcan alreadyclearlyseeovereveryone’sheads Theothermodelsappeartobetakingthesameposesmymanager,Dylan,taughtme, soIsimplycopythem.
The longer the shootgoes on, the more itwears me down After two hours, the lightand sounds are eatinginto mybrain, drainingmetothepointthatall Icandoisnumblyfollow instructions.I’mgivenchancestomove,thoughitappearsmyjob mainlyinvolves holdingleaves either above or around other models as theypose. Myears thud intime withthe music that
pulsesunderneaththeyellingandthebangsandcrashesofequipmentandsetpiecesbeinghauledaroundtheroom,yetnoone elsereacts,soIhavetoassumeit’snormal.
EvenwhenIclenchmyeyes, the vivid stage lights slip behind them, and brightcolours splashatme fromall angles It’s mucheasier to either stand there and listen, or focus onmyposes while inspectingthe set, and occasionallysweptawayby Luca’sbeautifullycalculatedposes
“Okay, Luca, Blade!” Sorenshouts, and Iflinch, startled as his attentionswings our way. “Iwantyoubothto head to the back Therestofyou,Ineedyouinasemi-circlearoundtheset Spreadout”Thedirectorclapshishandsandtheassistants moveforwardtoheavethebranchaway.
FromwhatIcantell,Sorenmostlyworksinfilm,andfocusesonstreamingadvertsforperfumesandhighcouture,andthey arefilmingoneintwoweekstocomplimentthisshoot IfIdowellhere,maybeIcanbeinvolvedinthevideotoo
Thesetiswideenoughforustostandatleastametreapart.IassumetheywanttomakespaceforLucaandBlade,soIstep away
“Notyou!”Sorencalls,pointingathickfingerstraightatme.“Staywhereyouare.”
Ifreeze,thetipsofthepalmleavesI’mholdingagainstmychestquiveringaspeopleglanceatme Everymuscleinmybody pinchedtight,Istand,myramrodneckforcingmetoremainstill.IhopetheleaveshideenoughofmyselfsoIwon’tdrawany moreattention.Theyarethesamedeepgreenasmyshirt,sothere’sachanceIcanblendin.Iwanttobespottedbythecamera, butthatdoesn'tmeanIwanttobejudgedbecauseI'vedonesomethingwrongonmyfirstbigshoot
No one seems to care as the director fires outmore commands. IthinkI’ve managed to getawaywithit, and Ilower the leaves,safelyexposingmyself UntilIscanthesettoseeifanyonehasnoticedandfindLucastaringstraightatme
Myeyeswiden,pullinginaquickgaspashislipscurveintoagrin.Asinglebeatpulsesthroughmyveinsashehopsoffthe largeplasticbranch.Stretchingtohisfull height,rollinghisshouldersandtiltinghisheadlefttoright,all whilefacingme.I don’tneedtohearthecrackofhisneck,itshowsinthepleasurethatdancesacrosshisfaceashislashesflutter.
Andthefeelingreturns.Ipressthestalksofbothleavesintomyhand,droppingthembymythighs.Mynervesfizzleintothe tremorofheadyexcitementthatspunaroundmeearlierwhenhetouchedme
Luca turns to Blade, leaning forward to murmur into his ear, sharing a light secret before Blade leans back and nods, twisting Their attentionsuddenlysnapstome,andInearlythrow thepalmleavesacrossmyfacetostoptheir sharpgazespiercing straightthroughmeasLuca’sshouldersrelax,andhemoves.
Luca’swalkisfamous;I’vestudiedfordays,tryingtofindtherightpace,therightpoisetomatchtheswayofhiships,but hiswalkissouniquelyhimthatthereisnowaytoemulatehisboldconfidence.Icanneverbethesame,becauseLucaknows hownaturallybeautifulheis,andhoweasyitisforhimtocommandaspace
He strides towards me, power oozing fromevery pore. He forces me to stay with his presence, prowling towards me, huntingmeliketheeasypreyIam
Throatdry,there’s nochance tospeakthroughthe violent,tumblingthoughts thattake me over as he approaches.Mycalm facadeshattersandIcramtheleavesbehindmybacksohecan’tseehowtheyshake.
Eachstepechoesinmybody,asifhe’sinsideme,completelywiredtohim Ithastobethebrightlightsorthechaoticsounds ofthesetconfusingme.It’stheonlywaytoexplainwhyeverycellinmybodyisfocusedonhim.
His head notches back, his thick crimson braid tumbling down his chest, running next to his low neckline, only further highlightinghis pale skin.Idon’tknow where tolook.The dipofhis collarbones,the smoothcurve ofhis jaw,the slightest upturnofhisnose,whichonlymakesthegleaminhislightblueeyesevenmorewicked
Iknowhe’sspeaking;Icanseehislipsmoving,buthe’ssnatchedmysenseswithonesmile.Iwanttotouchhim,tostrokehis smoothcheekbones,runmyfingersoverthecurveofhisneckandcuphischinsoIcanbenddownandtastehiskiss.
Onewhisperofhisbreathonmychestandfreshheatblazesthroughme Istepback,blinkinginsurpriseatwhat’shappening tome.It’slikehe’sgrippedmebytheneck,demandingIpullhimcloseandtakehimasmyown.
Deepheartbeatscrowdmyearsashesurroundsme,onedgeatnearnessasheformswordsIcan'thear I’vestudiedsomanyofhisshoots,absorbeddetailsofhimpossiblynooneelsehasnoticed.AndIcan’tprocessthefactthat I’mfinallylookingatthelittledimplecurvingaroundtheleftsideofhismouthashetalks It’sanobsessionforsome;there’s evenanInstagramaccountIfollowdedicatedtoit.
“Isaid.”Hepropshishandsonhiships.“Ihaven’tseenyouaroundbefore.Areyounew?”Luca’svoicesuddenlysnapsinto focus,cuttingthroughmywildthoughts Lights,music,clickingcamerasandshoutingstaff ItallroarsbackinasIjolt,shaking awaymyintensereverie.Istaredownathim,mysmallcapacityforspeechlostasIdrinkhimin.
Thisiswhatbeing‘star-struck’reallyfeelslike
The dimple I’mfascinated with vanishes as his brow furrows instead. Those lips I’ve been admiring twist as his face pinches.
WhatamImeanttosay?Ihaven’tpreparedforthis.Ihaven’tpreparedfor him. Hereachesoutahand,hisfingerpressingstraighttomybreastbone,ridingtheedgebetweenshirtandskin.
Imustbegoingcrazy.Becauseasingletouchisallittakesforlightningtosizzlethroughmybody,zippingthroughmyveins fromthesmallballofpressureonmychest.He’ssoclosetomyheart,andit’salreadytoomuch.
Mylipspart,mybodyswayingslightlyasherunsthepointedtipslowlydownwardsovermychest,leavingariverofsparks inhiswake,meetingthetopofmyabs.
“Mygosh,youare ahardone,aren’tyou?”Hesays,lookingupatmethroughthick,flutteringlashes TheforceofmyneedissuchashockthatIsuckinaharshgasp.
Lowerandlower,hissmilefadesashisfingersweepslower He’stoofocused,tooimmersedinwhathe’sdoing,andIcan seethebreakinafacadeIdidn’tknowwasthere.
“Itwouldbesoeasytopressmylipsagainstyourchestrightnow,”hemurmurs,hisvoicelowenoughthatnooneelsecan hear It’sonlyforus,inthisspace,inthismomentwhereanythingcouldhappen
“What do youthink, Thorn? I could taste youhere.” He pushes his finger to mypec, too near mynipple, sparks dancing aroundmylungs “Orhere,”hesighsashetracesthecurveofmypec,theslightestpressofhisnailnickingmyskin “Oreven here.”It’s clear wherehe’s goingnext,andIdon’thesitateas Iliftmyhand,trappinghis finger againstmystomachwithmy palm
I’mlostinhim,inthisenergybuildingbetweenus.Orbuildinginsideofmyself.Ican’ttell.AllIknowisIwanthistouch, hishotskindentingmine,noclothestostopthereal scratchofhisnailsmarkingmebeforetheyvanishbeneathmywaistline andhemakesmehis
Butnothere.Notwithotherpeoplewatching.
AndthesecondItouchhim,heflinchesback,tearinghimselffrommygrasp Idon’tmisshisgrimace,ortheflashofhurtthat followsinsideme.
TheredflushofmyskinquicklyreplacesmyburnofdesireasIrealisewhatI’vedone.Heisjustflirting,butmyresponseis tooreal.
Hisnameisonthetipofmytongue,tryingtoapologise,tryingtoexplainwhathappened.
Ihesitatefortoolong BeforeIevenmakeasound,Bladeisbesideus
“Luca,that’senough,”hesaysgently,claspingLuca’selbowwithnimblefingers,encouraginghimaway,givingmespace. Onashakybreath,awarenessoftheroomfloodsme;ofthescowlstheothermodelsaregivingme,ofthedirectorpursing hislips,andthecameramanonmyleftadjustinghislensashesnapsanothershotofLucaandmetogether.
BladeshootsmeanapologeticsmileasLucaglowersathim,lettingBladeleadhimaway.Iopenmymouthtosaysomething -anything-but,bythetimeIpushoutaquiet“thankyou”,theyarealreadygone.
I blow a frustrated breath through my nose, swallowing down the rattling tension that vibrates through the leaves. I lift tremblingfingers,clutchingmyneck,silencingtheharshbiteofdefeat BecauseIdiditagain Iruinedit Iletmyinnerthoughts stopmefromreachingmyendgoal.
Thetechnicianscentrethelargeumbrellas,anglingthestandinglightstowardsthebackofthescene,directlytowardsme I don’treactfastenough,andarayofpainfiresstraightthroughmyskullasItakeanotherpose.
Anhourpasses,andthenanother,andthenathird,allofusswitchingpositionseverytenminutes.Mymusclesburn,myfeet ache,andshamehastakenmeover There'stoomuchspaceformythoughtsamongtheposing,andhavingLucanearbymakesit worse.
I'mover-stimulatedandrapidlylosingenergywitheachpassingminute,andit’snotgoodenough Icanbebetterthanthis I haven’tspentmonthsandmonthspracticingjusttogiveupnow.
We’re spread throughout the set, and I’m placed directly behind Luca and Blade Soren said something about height comparison,whichIassumeisapromotionfrom‘lookingtall’.IfitmeansIcanbemorerecognisableinthepicture,I’mhappy togowherevertheyneedme.Itdoesn’tmatterhowsickIfeel,aslongasIlookthepart.
Withthecameramenjumpingaroundus,crewadjustingsetpieces,andSorentalkingtoatechnician,nooneseesme Andno oneknowshowdistractedIamwithLucasoclose.
“You’vegottobejoking!”hesnapsatthedirector Theystandoffinfrontofme,andIjustcatchtheSoren’sscowlbeforehe replies.
“Onehundredpercent Weneedthatshot”
“No,youwant thatshot.”Lucaspitsback.“It’stotallydifferent.”
Theystareateachother,Lucainhisbrightyellow shirtandSoreninaradiantredandgreenponcho,thestaffsimplytheir shadowsweavingaroundtheminblacksandgreys
Thedirectorfoldshisarmsandwaits.
I’mcurioushow hewillreact,especiallybecauseofLuca'sreputationforerraticbehaviourbothinfrontofandbehindthe camera.
Withinfiveseconds,Ihear Lucasnort.“Fine.Move.”Hesaysharshlywithaswishofhishand,andSorenhums,stepping awaytogivehimroom.
Ican’ttakemyeyesoffofLuca’sass.Histightgreenleggings,exactlythesameasmine,hideabsolutelynothingexceptthe
onethingIwanttosee.Hisbraidsettlesonhisspine,brushingthetopofhishipsasheleansforward,sweepingdownwards, bendingatthewaist.
Ataninety-degreeangle,heplaceshispalmsflatonthefloor,hisbraidlikeanarrowtothecurvesofhisass “How’sthis?”hesayswithabite,andSorensimplynodsinreturn.
Luca'sfrillyshirtridesup,andeveryounceofoxygenintheroomdisappears Allthatcomesisasmallnoiseinthebackof mythroatasthescatteringofgingerfrecklesacrosshisrighthipunveilthemselves.
AnyfeelingofsicknessvanishesasIconsumethesightofLucaondisplay
His skinis fine china, the freckles like delicate marks made byanartist. I’ve onlycaughtthemonce or twice inpictures; mosteditorsairbrushthemoutbeforethefinalprint.TheyonlyeverappearincandidshotsofLucainthewild.
EachbreathhetakesshiftshisshirthigheruntilIcanseethefullarchofhiships Idrinkineachprettymark,silentlyurging Lucatomoveagain,tolethisshirtrideupsoIcantracehowfarhisfrecklestraveluphisside.Butthatdesireisequaltothe otherneedthatdrumsinsideme,urgingmetotearawayhiswaistbandandexplore “Heyyou!”MycheeksinstantlyflushasImeetSoren'sintensestareashemovestothecentreoftheset.“Staythere.Justlike that Right, Luca, keep yourselfbentdown Straightback, chinup Blade, arms out Stretchfor me Youinthe middle there, keepatit.”
Itiltmyhead,unsureofwhathe’stalkingabout.I’mbarelyevenstrikingapose.
Thosesharpcontractionscomeinhard,squeezingaroundmyheartasSorenturnstooneofhiscameramen Iswallow,butmy throatistoodry,andInearlychokeattheroughscratchagainstthebackofmymouth.
Peoplegobacktotheirbusiness,andit’sthereagain,thepossibilityImightbecalledout,thatI’lldosomethingwrongand they’llfireme.
Withthesmallestsighthroughpartedlips,Itrytogathermyself,butwhenLucatwistshisnecktothrowmeawickedsmirk over his shoulder, Ican’tkeep myselfstill. I’ve seenthatsmile traced inso manymagazines, interviews, posts online. But, seeingitinperson,thetugatthecorners ofhislips,softlyparted,theslighttingeofhischeeksandthedipofhis chinas he assessesme;Idon’tknowhowIamsupposedtoconcentratewhenhelooksasifheonlyhaseyesforme
“No,”Sorensaystome.Ringedbytwocameramen,he'sonlythreemetresaway,andclosingin.“Notthat.”Hewaveshis handwithaflickofhiswrist,circlingmywholebody “Thefaceyouweremakingbefore Whateveryouweredoingjustnow, doitagain.”
Deeppanicthathadbeenquietlyclawingatmebursts,andIsuckinmystomach.Ican’texactlyaskhimtostoplooking,and there’snowaytoescapethewallofeyesasallattentionintheroomfixesonus.
“CanImove? This is seriouslyuncomfortable,” Luca whines,stretchinghis headuptothe director.Abrushofawareness sweeps throughme, silencingall other distractions as Luca bends his knees, hunchingdown, his ass hoveringover the floor betweenhisheels.
There’snowayIcan’tlook Anyoneinmypositionwoulddothesame Withafullviewofthelycrastretchingeventighter overperfectcheeks,it’saflashingneonsignIcan’tavoid.
Heraisesonehand,fightingtotughisshirtdowntohiship,hisfrecklesdrownedoutbyyellow silk,butit’stoolate.The disappointmentoftheirdisappearancemeansnothingwhenIrealiseI’mgrowinghardunderneaththinleggingsthat,likewith Luca’sass,won’thideanything.
And, to make itworse, Luca lifts his ass, wiggles his hips, groaningas he arches his back, returningto thatninety-degree angle,andhisshirtridesupagain.
“Notyet,”thedirectoranswers “Onemoreround”
Lucaletsoutafrustratedgroan,droppinghisheadbackinlinewithhisshoulders,asleekroutefromnecktoass.
Itrynottomoanwithhimasrealisationhitsmehard,bloodrushingthroughmeasafreshwaveofdesiresurges.He’sonlya metrefrommycock Inthisposition,itwouldbenothingtoreachout,takeLuca’ships,anddrawhimtome
HowwouldhesoundifIpushedinsidehim?Wouldheletmetakehim,orwouldhebeincharge?Wouldhewantmetohold himandlovehimtenderly,orcouldIusemyfullstrength?
ThesimplesightofLucaissoarrestingthatIwanttohidewhateverfaceI’mmakingalmostasmuchasmycrotch.Ican’tlet anyone see the lust that has seized me, especially for someone I’ve just metSexual attraction isn’t something I normally experience.Icanrecognisewhensomeoneishandsomeorbeautiful,butI'veonlyeverhadsexbecauseIwantcompany. Butthislust,thisrawheat…It’salreadyconsumedme.
“Alright,you Onemoretry,”thecameramanstandingdirectlyinfrontofLucasaystome,liftinghiscamerafromhischestto focusonthethreeofus.
Istareathiminshock,eyeswide,panicsettingupasteadybeat Becausetheonlythinghidingmyhardcockfromthecamera isLuca’sass.AndthenIrealisewhytheyputhiminthatposition.
Aminutepasses,thecameraclickingawayasIremainonhighalert,watchingLucaandBladetwistandturn,their bodies peakexamplesofhumanart.WhileI’m…Idon’tknowwhatIam.Butmynervousticsareenoughtocalmmycock.
“Justrelax,okay?”Bladesaysgentlyfrommyright,stealingmyattention.Withatall lampdirectlybehindhim,he’slitup
likeabenevolentangel,loweringhisarmstomeetmygaze,spreadinghiscalmoverme.I’mnotsurehowhedoesit,butone smilehassoftnessflowsthroughmybody,mytightmusclesbreathingouteverytension.
“There’snothingtobeafraidof,”hesays “We’reallhereforthesamereason” Ishufflemyfeet,mynumbfistsopening.Ididn’tevenrealiseIhadthemclenchedagainstmythighs,bunchingthetightfabric ofmyleggings
Inod,andBlade'sfriendlysmiledeepens,slightcrinklesatthecornersofhiseyesashenodsinreturn.
He'sright Ofcourseheis LucaandBladehavedonethisforsolongitmustbesecondnature,andI’vecomeheretolearn, too.
Iresume mygazing,Blade’s words easingthe whirlwindofmythoughts.Myheadstill pounds,darkness creepingintomy visionwhenever I lose focus As longas I keep admiringthe narrow strip of skinhighlightingLuca’s freckles, I canpush through.EverythingelsefadesawayasIlosemyselfinthespaceIhadenteredbeforewhenIfirstcaughtsightofthem.
Timeslows,likealazyriverwhere,insteadoflightsandnoiseandchaos,it’sjustmyselfandLuca,eventhoughhehasno ideawhathe’sdoingtome.
Ididn’tknowitwaspossibletobesoeasilylostinsomeone I’msureI’mtheonlyonefeelingthisway Maybeit’ssimply themadnessofmyfirstlargeshoot.ButI’msoabsorbedthatallIcanseearehisfreckles.
I want to trace every inch of the ginger dots across his skin. Map their pattern so I can remember themforever, like a pathwayleadingmetohim IhavenoideaifI’llevermeethimagain,andIwantsomewaytopreservethemoment Andthecameraclicksaway,freezingtimeforus,formetopreserve.
“That’sanicelookyouhavethere”Blade’sgentlevoicewrapsaroundmelikeabreeze,andItwistmyneck,flushingasI quicklydartmygaze awayfromhim, onlyto be drawnbackto himas he lets outthe smallesthum. It’s like he understands something,butIcan’timaginewhat.Likehecanseerightthroughme,thatheknowswhatI’mthinking,andthatunnervesme morethanLuca’sattention.
“Whatisit?”Lucasays,twistingagain,hisbackcurvingbeautifullyashewaveshiships.
“Nothing,” Blade replies innocently, throwingme a winkas he lowers his arms His lip drops, as ifhe’s goingto askme something,buthechangeshismind.Asifhe’scurious,buthe’swillingtowait,unlikealmosteveryotherpersonI’vemet. “Alright everyone, you’ve done great!” The director’s voice bounces around us “Thanks so much for holding out there Goodposes,goodshots,agoodtimeallround!”
Irelease a heavybreathas relieffloods me. Now thatI’mnearlyfree, the nausea creeps backin, windingits wayup my chest,hoveringatthebaseofmythroat.Ijustneedtoholdon.
Luca rises, narrowinghis eyes, pursinghis lips atus as his shirtlightlybillows around him. His attentionjumps over me before he scowls deeplyat Blade, thoughBlade simplyshines backwithout a trace ofconcern Maybe it's somethingLuca actuallydoesalot.
MyalreadyfiredupsensesareonhighalertasLucastepscloser,hisfaceastormasheturnsonme Hislightscentoffresh soapsweepsmynoseasIsoftlyinhale,preparingmyselfforwhateverhemaydonext.There’snowayformetosalvagethis. I’veruinedanychanceofconnectingwithhimbyactingsocold.ButI'mnotbraveenoughtosayI’msureI’llcollapseifIdon’t sitdownwithinthenextfiveminutes
Ishouldhavekeptonclutchingmyleavesandtryingto‘looktall’insteadofgettinginvolved. There’sapausebetweenus,hisheadrockingbacktolookupatme Icanseehoweasyitwouldbetopullhimtomychest andslothimundermychin.Fromthisangle,I’msurehewouldfitperfectly.
Hisscowlmorphsintosomethingmuchdeeperashetugshisbottomlipbetweenhisteeth Ifeelstrippedofalltheprotection I’veeverbuiltasheexaminesme,allopportunitiestohidedisappearasthehunterfrombeforecatchesmeagain,trappingme withasultrygrin.
Luca’sattentiononlymakesmyoverstimulatedsenseslessbearable
I’manidiottothinkthatLucawon’tseethephotosofmegazingathim.Ofcoursethey’llsendalltheshotstohim,ofcourse he’llseemeandthewayIcavedthemomenthesteppedinsidethestudio Idon’twanthimtoseethatI’mobsessedwiththe ideaoffallingtomykneesandtearingawayhisleggingssoIcangrabhisassandthrusthiscockdeepintomythroat.
Iwanttobecomeatopmodelandexposemyselftothepublic,tobefeaturedinmagazinesandadverts IfIcanspreadmy imagearoundtheworld,hopefullymymumwillspotmeandcomeback,tocomeandfindme.Butthat’sdifferentfrombeing caughtwateringatthemouthoverathinslipofskin.WhatexpressionwasImakingwhenIwasabsorbedinLuca’sfreckles? Andwouldtheyusetheshotinthefinaladvert?
Luca
Damn,thatwasalongone.Thebloodydirectorkeptmebentatthehiponandoffforawholehour,andI'mstiffasfuck.I wishhedidtheposeshimselfsoheknewwhataballachetheyare.
Thankfully,there’saperfectwaytogetmyhipsmovingagain,anditdefinitelyinvolvesthetowerofamanpeeringdownat me.
Plus,I’mstillpissyThornbrushedmeoffearlier
Igivehimaonceover,mylipscurvingintoasmileasItakeinthosethickmuscledthighspackedintotight,tightlycra. “Well,bigboy,how wasthat?Itwasyourfirsttime,wasn’tit?”Iaskhim,alreadythinkingofthewaysIcouldencourage himoutofhisclothes
Bladechuckles,liftingabrowbeforeheglidesaway.HeknowswhatI'mlike,andheknowsatsomepointI'llendupcoming backtohim Ialwaysdo Ijustliketoproperlyfuckmyselfupbeforehand,youknow,reallymakesureIgettheknifetwisted niceanddeepbeforeIgetdrunkandmakeamessofmyselfinfrontofhim.
Plus,Idon'twanttolosethisstaringcontestwithThorn,thoughheseemsunnervedthistime He’ssobloodytallIcan'teven seehiswholefacefromallthewaydownhere,sowhoknows?
HenodsonceandIglareathim.It'sbeenalmosttwominutessinceIaskedhimthequestion,soIcan’ttellifhe'sgoingto replyorhe’sliterallyforgottenwhatI’vejustsaid,butI’mnotbackingdown Aburstofirritationflaresinsidemeashelifts hisgazefromme.Halfoftheothermodelsarefilingtowardsthedoor,andhe’swatchingthemlongingly,obviouslywantingto escape Somearestillhovering,edgingtowardsmeandBladewithhungryeyes,phonesclaspedintheirhands
I’llletBladedealwithit.Ican’tbefuckedwithpeople-pleasersorselfies.Iwanttoseewhat’supwiththisguy.
Heattemptstogetaway,butIshootoutahandtostophim,grabbinghisupperarm It'ssothickIcanhardlygetmyfingers aroundhalfofit,whichstartsoffanotherroundofbloodyflip-flops.Guesstheyweren'tacoincidenceafterall. ItakeineveryfirmlineofThorn’sbody.Justaclenchofmyfingerstellsmehowstrongheis,andanimageofhimthrusting intomefromabovehitsmesohardInearlyflinch He’sallfuckedupandhe'scryingandit'ssohotthatIcollapseunderhim, comingashecallsmyname.
Thenit'smyturntoblink,eyesbulgingasIsearchforanysignhefeltittoo
“Hm,so,Thorn,”Irollhisnameonmytongue,lovingthewayitcurlsaroundmymouth.“Whydon’tyoucomewithmeand I’llshowwhatitreallymeanstobeastar?”Ipurrupathim.NowI'vegoneandturnedmyselfonsomuchI'meitherputtingout orgettingoutofhere.I'mnotlettingThornknowhowfuckinghotIamforaguyI'vejustmetwhenhe'sbarelydoneshittome. HelooksdownatmyhandlikeI’mafuckingparasitebeforesteppingbackfromme,yankingoutofmygrasp.Myhandhangs intheairasherubsthespotwhereIwasclutchinghim,likehe’stryingtocleanawaymydirt
Andthere’snotasingletwitch.Absolutelyfuckingnothing,andthat’spissingmeoffevenmorethanthefacthedoesn’tseem interestedinme EvenifI’mannoyinghim,it'sbetterthanhimstraightupblankingme,eventhoughI’mstandingrightinfrontof him.
Doesn’t he know who I am?
Hischestslowlyrisesandfalls,butthat’sallhe’sdoing.Slowbreathin,slowbreathout,addinabitmorestaringandyou haveThorn.
And,fuckinghell,isitgettingtome,especiallynowI'malltoastyandreadytobespread Imean,forfuck’ssake.Whothefuckdoeshethinkheis?OramIreallysopatheticIcan'tevenpullanextra?Igetcheated onandsuddenlyI’mthegrossestthingintheuniverse
So,ofcourse,Iendupsnappinginsteadofjustleavinghimalone.
“What,doyouthinkyoucan’thandlefuckingme?Isthatit?”Iinchcloser.Satisfactionrollsthroughmeashegasps,thesoft
inhaleonlymakingmewanttoteasehimandfindoutwhatother sounds hecouldmakefor me.“Youdon’thavetheballs to takemeon?”
Hejustkeepsstaringatme Staringandstaringlikehe’swaitingmeout,challengingme,fuckingdaringme
“Youlooklikeyoudon’tknowhowtofucktosaveyourlife,”Ispitout.Hedoesn'tdeserveasingledropofmyanger,but I'vesetmyselfuptobeatotalbitch,andIcan'tstop “Whatdoyousay?Wanttoprovemewrong?”Icanimaginehowgoodit wouldbetoridesomeoneasbuiltashim.
Hell,hedoesn'thavetodoanything
HecanliterallysittherewithahardcockandI'ddoalltheheavylifting Thorngivesashort,sharpexhaleandfoldshisarms,stillpeeringdownatme,stillblinkinglikehehasnoideawhatthefuck I’mdoing.AndIdon’t,notreally.
“No,”he replies,like itwas the worstthingIcouldhave ever askedhim “Thankyou” He nods before he side-steps me, aimingdirectlyfortheexitthatanymodelnotfawningoverBladeisheadingtowards.
IsagasIwatchhimgo,jaw solow Iswear it’s scratchingmychest,temptedtogivewaytogravityasmybodysuddenly goeslimp.
What the actual fuck?
Did he just…reject me?
Me?
It’slikehe’spunchedme
Itshouldn’tblowsohard,butI’msobloodyrawthathehitmerightwhereithurtthemost.Ireallyhopenoonecaughtthe purefuckingsurpriseonmyface
Hisarmsstayfoldedasheleaves.Yeah,hisasslooksfantasticencasedinthoseleggings,apurefuckingpeach,butthat'snot thepoint.
Thishastobesomekindofjoke.Hecan’tjustrejectmeagain.
“Hey!”Ishoutout,angertakingthereinsasIjogtocatchupwithhim.Anotherthingabouthimthat’sbig:hisstride.Hestops sosuddenlyInearlycrashintohim Ittakesmeasecondtoadjustandstopmyselffromrubbingalloverhisass,eventhough I’mstillreelingfromhismultiplesnubs.
And,stompingforward,Icomeface-to-facewithanotherblankexpression
HisnostrilsflareatouchasIroundonhim,satisfactioncurlingthroughmeknowinghehasatleastashredofhumanityin him.
“Whatthefuckiswrongwithyou?”Isnap,diggingmyselfintoanevendeeperhole. WhatcanIsay?Ilikethepain.
“I’mjustaskingifyouwantagoodtime”Idramaticallyflingmypalmstomyhips,puffingoutmychest,mynaturalcharisma atwork.
Andyeah,maybeI’mtryingtogetariseoutofhimbecauseIwant someone totakefuckingnoticeofme AndIdon’tmean thethirstyextras.Ican’tgetThorninterested,andmypoorself-esteemcanonlytakesomuch. Everythinghurtssofuckingbadly.Standingtherestuckinawkwardposesjustgavemetimetostew.There’snothinglikethe deepacheofrejectiontokeepmegoingthroughtheday Ican’tbelievemyexthinksI'msofuckingeasythatIcanbrushoff beingdumped,especiallylikethat.Itmightcomeasashocktopeople,butIdoactuallytry.Which,sofar,hasn'tbeenenough for anyone to love me for longer thansixmonths It’s better takingitoutonThornthanactuallyfacingthe factIjusthad my heartbroken.
Andagain,Thornjuststaresatme
“Doyoudoanyelsebesidesstaringandnodding?”Isay.Myforeheadactuallyhurtsfromscowlingsohard. Heblinksonce,stares,andopenshismouth.There’sapause,aslighttremorinhisthroatbeforehegivesmeasingleword. “No,”hesayssobluntlyIburstoutlaughing,eventhoughitfeelslikehefuckingcrushedmeunderhisheel
BythetimeIstop,afreshachepulsesthroughme.Idigmyfingershardintomyhips,hopingthatwillbeenoughtostopmy realpainfromemerging Idon’tknowhowhe’sabletostandthereandendurethechaosswirlingaroundme “Fine,fuckyouthen,”Isaythroughgrittedteeth.IfBladeheardme,he’dgivemeadisappointedlookandthenjustwatch me,quietlydisapproving,untilwewerealone
Thornjustnodsandwalksaway,notevenbotheringtosaygoodbyeorlookaroundordosomethingtofuckingacknowledge whohewastalkingto.
Whatafuckingarse
“Luca?”Bladestepsinbesidemewithanotheroneofhiskindheartedsmiles.Ijolt,quicklysearchinghisface,butthere’sno signheknowswhat’sup Henotcheshisbagoverhisshoulderashehandsmemine “Readytogo?”
Ihuffloudly,narrowingmyeyesathimasIswipemybagfromhisgrasp,clenchingtheleatherstrap,tryingtosqueezeout myfrustration.
Iguessit’sanightofpouringmyfeelingsouttoBladeratherthanridingsomehotdick.ThoughI'msoriledupbyThorn,I don'tevencareaboutthattwink-fuckeranymore.I'mnotgoingtocallhimmyex.
Thereareotherextras.I’msuretheywouldtakemeupontheofferofaquickfuck,butThornhastotallyspoiledmymood.I sweartoGod,iftheymakemeworkwithhimagain,I’mgoingtolosemyshit. That’sthelasttimeIhitonasilent,broodingtype Especiallyonelikehim
Thorn
I
’veruinedit.I’vecompletelyruinedit.
ThereisnochanceLucawillcomenearmeagain.ButmythunderingheartissoheavythatIcan’tbreathe.It’snotjusthim. It’sthenauseaeatingawayatme It'sonlyenhancingmyneedtoreachtheexit Iplacethepalmleavesonthetablenexttothedoor,finallyfreefromthemasIpushthehandle. Idon’tknowwhichishardertodealwith:flirtyLuca,orangryLuca Iwantedtostay,toaskhimrealquestionswithouttheextranonsensepouringfromhismouth.Ihadseensomanyinterviews withhim,andIneverexpectedhimtoactlikethatthefirsttimewemet.Ifweevermet. NowIwassurehedidn’tseemeasanythingbutanannoyance Evenifhewasspeakingtomelikethat,Icouldhaveatleast foundawaytotellhimIwasbusytonight,andthatIwouldlovetotalktohimanothertime.OrlethimtalkasIlistened. ButIdon'thavespacetothinkaboutit
Ihave to lie down. It's beentoo much. The dizziness, the mind fog, the barestawareness ofwhere Iaminthe room. I've pushedmyselftoohardandnowI'mgoingtopayforit
Myscreamingthoughtsaretellingmetomove,andIgripmychestasInearlyfallthroughthedoor.ThemusicfadesasIexit thestudio,butthereareothermodelsinthecorridorchattingaway,thesoundbouncingoffthewalls.Ineedtostopandbreathe. I’vealreadypassedmybreakingpoint IcanstillcontrolitifIfindsomespace I’vebeenstudyinghard,workingtowards becomingfamous,togetjobs withbigbrands,exactlylikethis.IfIcanfindmy mum,ifshecontactsmebecausesheseeshowwellI’vedoneformyself,thenitwillbeworthit ButtherearesomanythingsI haven’tconsidered.Like,ifIwouldactuallyenjoymodelling.
EventhoughI’lltakeawholedaytorecoverfromthis,itwasgoodbeingabletoputallmystudyingintopractice Especially because,intheend,itwaseasytodo.
AndIgottomeetLuca.
Ipress myother hand to mytemple as Ipushmyshoulder againstthe cool beige wall, almostslidingdownthe corridor, attemptingtoignorepeopleastheyjumpoutofmyway.
Aquickstab ofpainis a reminder ofhow little Iknow aboutthis world Maybe it’s normal for people to actlike Luca; overtlysexualandfreewiththeiremotions.IfLucahadaskedanyoftheothermodels,wouldtheybeleavingwithhimtonight? Insteadofstill poses ina magazine or videos onhis social media pages, Isaw the softlines ofhis face brightenwithhis smiles,thelittleflourishesofhishandsashespoke,andthepowerofhisbodyashestalkedme.
Iwon'tforgetamomentofit.
Ispottheemergencyexitatthefarendofthecorridor I’dseensomeonesneakingawayearlierwithacigarette,soI’msure I’llbesafefromthealarm.
AsIburstthroughthedoor,naturalsunlightfloodsmyvisionandItakeaproperbreath Therearemodelssmokingtotheleft ofthe door, and theygive me odd looks. Butthat's all they've beendoingsince the shootstarted, and I'mtoo desperate for spacetocare.
Isimplynod,turningfromthemandaimingforthemouthofthealleyrunningbetweenthestudioandagymnextdoor. Thedarknessandthesmallspacewillgivemefiveminutestoadjust.
AssoonasIentertheshadows,Ithrowmybackagainstthewall,mypalmsflatontheroughbrick,heavingjaggedbreathsin timewithmyachingheart.Iarchmyneck,suckinginairasmykneesbendandIslidedownwards.
If the time ever came where I could workwithLuca again, I’d be stronger thanthis, more prepared I wouldn’t make a completefoolofmyself.I’dbeabletospeaktohimwithoutfallingapart.IcouldtellhimhowIadmirehisworkandIwantto learnmorefromhim.
IgroanasIsqueezemyeyes,mybrainswelling,poundinginsidemyskullasIhunchdown,theshakesstarting. It's okay I'll be okay Ijustneedtofocusandbreathe That'stheimportantthing MyheaddipsforwardasLuca’sfaceswimsthroughthesparksburstinginmyvision.Hisscowl,hisanger,thedeepliltof hisvoicethatsetmybodyalight Ifanotheropportunitycomes,Iwon'truinit. I'mtoonew,freshmeat I'llworkharder,getbetter,andmaybeoneday,Icandoashootwithhimagain Oneday,I’llshow himhowgoodIam.
Author's Note
ThankyousomuchforreadingFirstSight!Ihopeyou'veenjoyedthissmallsnapshotintoLucaandThorn'spast.
Youmighthave noticed Luca is slightly harsher thanhe was inAfterglow, but, as we all do, he grew throughoutthe two yearsbeforeAfterglow,andLucayou'llmeetinthenextshortstory,ClosetoHome,hasgrownevenmorebeautifully ClosetoHomeissetfourmonthsafterAfterglow.ThornfeelscomfortableandfinallyworksupthecouragetoinviteLucato hisflat,andbothofthemareincrediblyexcited!It'sverysweetandgooey,andquiteadifferenttonethanFirstSight,andIcan't waitforyoutoreadit!
YoucanfindallthebooksintheseriesonGoodreadsandAmazon
All profits fromeachstoryof'After' will go to the Guide Dogs for the Blind Association, bothKUand directsales!The third storyof'After', PuppyLove, focuses oncute guide dogs intrainingwithcharacters fromthe Trickof the Light series appearingforthefirsttime,andothersreturning.
