She is kind of feisty now. And the thought of provoking her further turns me on.
But each time she schooled her expression, flipping her photographer persona on, all I wanted to do is fuck with her more. And she made it way too easy. Like she was secretly enjoying it. Who knows, maybe she was.
As much as I feared the possibility of seeing her during my time here, feared her reaction and my own, a new burst of excitement courses through me. Every time our eyes met, I put on a snide, panty-dropping smile, and waited for her to direct me. It was better to be a distraction than own how I really felt. Because if I own my true feelings with her eyes on me, she will know. Without a doubt, she will read every wish and regret I own.
“Mr. Hunt, if you could please move over to the backdrop near the windows.”
She was all business. But I was, and am, determined to challenge her.
I used her name like a weapon, shooting it off my tongue in slow motion.
“Earth to Gavin?” Alyson waves in front of my face.
“Huh?” Shit. It is blatantly obvious she has caught me ignoring her. Probably didn’t miss anything noteworthy. “What did you say?”
She shakes her head at me. “I said you’d better not mess this up with whatever is going on with you and the photographer.”
Alyson isn’t being a bitch, but the way she said the photographer pisses me off. As if she doesn’t know or remember her name. Makes me want to grab her shoulders and shake them. Get in her face and hiss Cora’s name. But I don’t.
“I won’t,” I promise. And I mean it.
As much fun as it is messing with Cora, I won’t jeopardize my contract with the magazine. It has taken me years to get to this point in my career. No way I will ruin it overnight.
But I would be a liar if I said this shoot won’t be a challenge. Without a doubt, it will be the most difficult shoot of my career. It will push me to the edge mentally. Have me second-guessing my every move. Have me wondering if I am being crazy. And I have done some crazy shit.
All the back and forth between us today, I had to have made a dent in her fortress. Chipped at her armor.
“Don’t make me babysit you,” Alyson threatens. “I don’t like being that kind of agent.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I hold up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
Alyson rises from the couch, smoothing her skirt. “Also, I booked a shoot with you and Layla. It’s a week after we fly back to Los Angeles. Okay? I’ll leave you alone for the night. Be good.” She points a finger at me. “And I’ll see you in the morning.”
I salute her. “Yes, ma’am.”
She shakes her head at me and walks out the door, taking her cloud of tension with her.
As soon as she is gone, I collapse on the couch. This week will be tough, but I don’t have a choice. I made a commitment. One I have no intention of backing out on. One that will take me to the next level. Cora is an unexpected surprise, but one I can handle. I just need to apply the techniques taught to us in school. Meditation. Shaking off self-doubt. Being my own cheerleader. Clearing my thoughts of everything not pertaining to the moment.
At times, it can be taxing to separate reality from the portrayal of who you are in an advertisement. Like an actor, I have to be whoever the people want me to be. Look the part. Play the role. Make the men want to mimic me. Make the women want to date me. And with Cora being around, I suspect I will be acting a lot.
And the most straining part of this shoot—not staring at her. Fuck. It is incomprehensible how much I have missed her. Beyond wrong to sit there and have absolute silence between us. A lot can be said in silence, but we were not those people years ago.
But isn’t that how most shoots go? The only talking occurs when the photographer gives direction or I give feedback. With her, though, it is different. The silence a heavy burden crushing my windpipe.
Click. Click.
The shutter snap will repeat in my sleep tonight. The click sounded so many times today. More than I recall from other shoots. She must have taken enough photos to fill a terabyte of memory. And if honest, I hope she keeps the photos somewhere sacred after I leave.
I wish I had current photos of her. Maybe I will snag one—or a few—before I leave. There has to be a way to sneak in a photo with my phone.
Tomorrow, we will be on the pristine sands of Clearwater Beach. The beach is one of the best parts of this trip. The sand, the sunsets, the salty air. And after everything today, I don’t want to be holed up in my hotel room. I need to get out of here. As enticing as the beach is, I need some other form of release.
Reaching for my cell, I type out a new message.
Gavin: Hey bro, want to grab a bite?
Micah: I’m down. Where?