Chapter 1
Nev
The harsh lights pointed at me drew a light layer of perspiration to the surface of my skin. I moved and flowed the way the cameraman demanded as he barked out orders, though I kept the plastic smile on my face to keep Jeremy happy. The dais was shrouded in cherry blossoms peppered on the metal and paper mache branches that stretched across the backdrop. The setting was Paris in spring, and I was la piece de resistance.
"Perfect, yes! So good!" Jeremy crooned, clapping his hands emphatically. We'd been working together for the past year and he'd scored me some pretty amazing gigs, though this one for L'Oréal of Paris was the most high-profile. These shots--while not the actual shots for the cover--were a mere temptation for the account managers at the magazine. The real shots would be taken in the spring in Paris on La Champs Elysees.
"I'm exhausted," I said through gritted teeth, maintaining the smile I was known for, but the cameraman and Jeremy continued barking orders and snapping photos.
My body ached from the weight of a year's worth of stress. As the final photo clicked and the lights faded, a palpable sense of relief washed over me. Despite my exhaustion, there was a satisfying feeling in my muscles, a reminder of the hard work I had put in that afternoon. Glancing at the temporary Parisian set, I saw the cherry blossoms gleaming in the fading light. Amongst them, I had blended in seamlessly, embodying the vibrant energy of the city they represented.
"Beautiful work today, Nev," Jeremy exhaled, stepping forward with his hands on his hips. His ubiquitous grin danced in his eyes as he looked over the digital captures on the camera. "Absolutely stunning," he murmured, a glint of pride in his eyes. I wasn't just a model who signed with him; I was his ticket to fame.
I moved from the dais and began peeling off the layers of couture and makeup, revealing my natural complexion underneath. I felt both bare and free, reminding myself that I was more than just a canvas for art. I was the art itself.
"Nev," Jeremy called from behind the laptop where the cameraman was quickly downloding the images, "the folks at L'Oréal are sure to love these shots." His voice cut through the mellow hum of the emptying studio. "This could be your big break."
The euphoria in his voice was contagious, and as I observed him from a distance, my tired features softened into a hopeful smile. A ray of optimism began to seep into the furthest recesses of my tired soul at Jeremy's words; they were the promise of a future brighter than the studio's high-wattage lights.
"Just imagine," he continued, his enthusiasm seeping into his voice. "Billboards over Champs Elysees, magazine covers, talk shows, and even the red carpet at Cannes! You'll be Paris' new muse, Nev."
My heart fluttered at the prospect, but my current life was cluttered and messy, bogged down by the emotional stress of my best friend's squabble with her older brother and I didn't even know how I allowed myself to get roped into being their referee.
"That's great, Jeremy," I said, a little more half-heartedly than I planned, but he never caught my tone. I ducked into the dressing room and stripped off the white satin gown and heels.
I slipped into the comfort of soft jeans, a plain white tee, and a leather jacket that held the comforting scent of home. As I laced up my sneakers, I glanced at my reflection in the full-length mirror. The girl who looked back at me was unadorned, blonde hair settled atop her head in a messy bun. My natural features stood out, free from the layers of makeup that had been applied by the professionals.
Who'd have thought PS 118 would have produced America's next global supermodel. I grinned at myself as I really let Jeremy's words sink in. Never in a million years had I thought I'd have ditched my degree in computer science to be a model, but when that open audition called me back, I couldn't say no. Now, I was working with one of the fastest-rising agents in the industry and I was making waves.
Walking out of the dressing room, I heard Jeremy still excitedly talking - something about a press conference and a fitting with a Parisian designer. He was too engrossed in his conversation to notice my departure. I waved to the camera guy who was packing up his equipment, receiving a friendly nod in return.
As I exited the studio, stepping onto the bustling New York street, I felt the weight of the day slowly lifting from my shoulders. The city bustled like normal, and the sidewalk was teaming with people dressed in their suits and ties, hurrying to get home from work or heading out for their afternoon lunch break. I was headed to Nish Nush on John Street, my favorite Mediterranean place, and I was set to meet my best friend. Though I wasn't looking forward to hearing her compain about her brother again, especially not after I promised to help win her over so he coudl get back in her good graces.
I'd admit, he was a total jerk to her, but I was big on family. I had no siblings, so watching those two fight it out felt wrong. I wanted to help repair their relationship, so long as it didn't suck me in to drama. And I liked Beck too, so it was a good chance to get closer to him.
The cafe was just around the corner, a quaint little place tucked away in the heart of the bustling city, its exterior painted a soothing shade of teal. The familiar sight brought a touch of warmth to my tired eyes and a glimmer of hungry anticipation to my worn-out soul. As I neared the entrance, I recognized the old man seated by the window, engrossed in his book. He was always there, as predictable as the setting sun. He smiled and nodded at me as I pulled the door open and the bell rang.
Inside, Nish Nush was an oasis amidst Manhattan's concrete jungle, rich with exotic fragrances that filled the room with an intoxicating allure. Cici sat staring down at her phone; her long snady brown hair framed her face in and hid her expression from my view.
I sat across from her at our usual table for a few minutes, but she didn't say a word. I could tell something was weighing on her mind, and I waited patiently for her to open up to me. "Cease?" I said, nudging her and she sighed hard.
"Beck texted me again," she finally spoke, breaking the silence. I could see the irritation in her eyes, mild wrinkle lines around her eyes and across her forehead. She was so angry with him. He'd gone too far this time, trying to break her and her boyfriend up.
I raised an eyebrow, curious about what he had to say this time. "Oh really? What did he say?" I knew what he said. I knew he'd texted her too. I knew she'd ignore him. Beck and I had been speaking daily lately. He'd been begging me to hold true to my word, which Id' given him the night he showed up drunk at Cici's house while I waited for her to get takeout and bring it home for dinner. I told him I'd help him fix things with his sister, and then he kissed me.
Like, jaw-dropping, earth-shattering, panty melting kissed me. And one taste of that was all I needed to know I needed more of it. I'd been waiting years for Beck to look at me like that. He still hadn't, not even when he knew I'd been signed as a model.
"He wants to meet up with me," Cici replied, twisting a strand of hair between her fingers nervously.
