Just as Alyson and I prepare to leave, I ask Alyson to give me a moment. She checks her watch and nods with slight annoyance. Not sure if it is directed at me personally or the fact I am derailing her schedule. She lives and dies by schedules, but we have nothing planned after the shoot. Sure, she is just tired. It has definitely been a long day.
I walk over to Cora, her hands fidgeting with her equipment. As I step close to her, she stops but doesn’t look up. Funny—or cruel—reality, we have always sensed each other’s proximity. From the day I met Cora, her energy danced with mine. Her energy is my energy.
“It was good seeing you again,” I mutter. For some reason, I feel the need to keep this conversation quiet from the other sets of ears in the room. Alyson knows nothing about Cora, and I don’t know if Cora’s assistant knows of me.
She sets the camera on the table, takes a breath, then turns to face me. A softness hazes her green eyes. “You, too.” Something resides beneath her exterior. Something she doesn’t want me to see. And the notion bothers me.
“You want to grab dinner? We can catch up.”
Her brow furrows a moment. Eyes twitch before working to right themselves. Lips pinch then loosen. Pain dances over her face for a breath and it stabs me straight in the heart. “Maybe another time. I’m tired and I think I’ll just head home for the night.”
Her rejection hits me harder than I care to admit. I blink away the sting behind my eyes. “Another time,” I mumble, walking away and out of the room with Alyson on my heels.
I am so fucked.
Alyson drones on about today’s shoot. Talking to me as if I had never stood in front of a camera before and had millions of photos taken. Telling me which shots she thinks will be the money makers and which I could have improved. I fucking hate it when she talks to me as if I am a goddamn child. How many years have I been doing this now? A decade, or close to it. I may not hold any Man of the Year awards, but people know me. People respect me.
When she gets like this, I zone out. Same conversation, new shoot.
While she carries on, we step into the elevator and ride up, away from the banquet room where Cora remains. Alyson gets props for hooking me up at a luxury hotel on Clearwater Beach. This place sits on the water and I have an unobstructed view of the beach and when the sun sets. Sunsets are the ideal end to my day. Hopefully not my life.
The elevator dings and the doors slide open. We step out and walk toward my room. Alyson yammers on beside me, saying how this shoot is somewhat of a new concept for me. How the majority of my work has been modeling for romance novel covers or risqué images. Personally, I enjoy the latter.
Today started a new journey for me. I stepped foot into the world of designer clothing modeling. Modeling clothing isn’t foreign to me, but it has never been for an internationally known fashion designer. This contract could take me to the next level. This contract could open up so many future opportunities.
I hold my key card against the door lock and push through the door a second later. Alyson continues sharing what the company is looking for from the week-long shoot. At this point, I listen to her. This information I need to absorb. We talk back and forth as we sit on the couch in my suite. Strategizing how to maximize this shoot.
Click. Click. I recall the camera shutter sounds from hours ago when we stepped into the banquet room.
I shake my head in an attempt to dissolve the trickling memories of earlier and try to focus on what Alyson is saying. But it is no use. An impossibility.
The moment I was within twenty feet of Cora, a hum I haven’t felt in years buzzed in my veins. A buzz only one woman created. When I glanced up to locate the source, I was rendered immobile. Confusion trickled through me as my chest tightened. All I kept thinking was I know that black hair and slender frame.
“Gavin, are you hearing a word I’m telling you?” Alyson asks as she grabs a bottled water from the mini-fridge.
“Yeah, I’m listening.” Lie. I haven’t heard a damn word she has said in the last ten minutes.
The second Alyson drones on about the contract, I zone out again.
Cora’s forced, tight smile flashes in my head. The way it lit up her face, but wasn’t exactly how I remembered it. And I never forgot her face. Never. It may not look the same as it did all those years ago—now a touch fuller and more woman than girl—but I would know it anywhere. Know her anywhere. Without question.
And her demeanor. Parts of her seemed so artificial now. From the fake smile to the handshake. I expected her to shake Alyson’s hand, but mine… I don’t know why, but part of me hoped to hug her. Begged to feel her petite frame pressed to mine. But we are here for business, so I suppose hugs would be inappropriate. With my career, I am not one to cross certain lines, but this is Cora. It is different. We are different.
Or so I thought…
But in front of my agent and her assistant, she put on a front that we were old friends, united once again. I know things between us ended in a shitty way, but let’s get real. Once upon a time, we were way more than friends. We were… everything.
And suddenly, my wallet rests much heavier in my back pocket, knowing what I have kept under my license all these years. Something not another soul knows about. Something sacred.
Throughout the shoot, I
messed with her. A little banter here. A dose of flirting there. Every chance I had to say her name, I swirled it over my tongue and plastered on a smile all women swoon over. At times, it amazes me what I have gotten out of using that smile. But that smile doesn’t faze Cora. Not in the slightest.
Seeing as we haven’t spoken in more than a decade, I’m sure I know very little about her anymore. Even when I chat with Micah from time to time, he hasn’t said much about her.
Micah is one of my closest friends. We have known each other since I was eleven and him thirteen. He also happens to be the older brother of Cora’s best friend, Shelly. Not sure how close Micah is with Cora, but seeing as he never spoke about her with me, I assume not close at all. Either that or he makes sure he doesn’t broach a subject as sticky as me and Cora.
Even with the time and distance apart, Cora gave me a ration of shit as if we had seen each other days ago. A few times, it was easy to think she was flirting back. Her smirk. The way she peeked around the camera a little longer than typical. The occasional cock of her brow.