Page 98 of Faking It
“That’s one of the things I like about you.”
“I’m surprised you like any of me after being stuck on a bus with me for two months.”
“You and your slurping straw,” he teases.
I stick my tongue out at him and take another bite, realizing that no matter how many times I look away from him, when I look back his eyes are always on me. Always looking closer than I want them to. The question is, what exactly is he hoping to find? “How was your day?”
“Good. Busy. Some meetings in the morning for some of my other businesses. A quick drink with Robert to go over some last minute details. Some time spent catching up on the day to day.” He reaches out and fills my glass of wine without asking. “How about you? I want to hear all about your meeting with Essie.”
“Where do I start other than to say it was incredible. She’s absolutely wonderful and charming and nothing like I imagined she’d be.”
He chuckles. “That’s only because she sees tremendous potential in you. If she hadn’t you would have found her curt and bitchy and aloof with not much to say, so that’s
a good sign she liked you.”
“She was a fountain of knowledge. I think my head is still spinning. Trends and markets and exposure and, gah! I’m still trying to process it all.” But even the mention of today, of the once in a lifetime opportunity he set up for me with one of the biggest modeling agencies in the world, has me feeling like I’m floating on air.
“How’d you leave it with her?”
“She wants me to forward my contract with my existing agent to her when I get home so she can see the terms. She thinks it’s possible to get me released from it so I can sign with her.”
I’m still in shock over that. Freaking IMG Models wants to manage me.
“I didn’t expect any less,” he says, pride owning his voice. “Do me a favor and let a lawyer see it first before you send it to her. I can even have mine take a glance at it for you so that you’re given a neutral opinion. If Essie wants you that bad, her bias will be a little slanted, and I just want to make sure you’re protected.”
I want to protest and say I can hire my own attorney and yet I wouldn’t know the first place to start. “Thank you. I don’t expect you to do it for free . . . I just wouldn’t know where to even begin.”
“Not a problem on all fronts. Anything I can do to help you, Harlow . . . please, feel free to ask.”
“Again, thank you.” It’s all I say, nerves jumping out of control for some reason at the simple compliment exacerbated by the guarded look in his eye.
Tell him, Low.
I stand without talking and pad around the small space.
Don’t be a chicken. Tell him how you feel. That you’re scared of leaving this bubble the two of you have created. That you have feelings for him and aren’t sure what to do with them or if he feels the same.
Fingertips trailing over pillows, hands touching the coarseness of the brick patio wall.
“Harlow?” he calls my name, sensing there is something on my mind.
I close my eyes for a second, trying to steel myself to tell him but realize I’m petrified of ruining the night, the mood, the vibe between us. If this is one of our last nights together in our cocoon, do I really want to do this? If he cares for me, won’t he tell me eventually?
But what if he feels the way I do? What if he’s afraid to say anything too?
“Har?”
Love is a bullshit emotion. The phrase loops through my mind. So do the hundred other things he’s done that I could say contradict that phrase.
“It’s beautiful up here.” My voice breaks when I speak, my heart swelling with emotion. I glance at him over my shoulder from where I stand near the edge and love the way he looks at me right now—like I’m appreciated, wanted, desired. “It kind of reminds me of that first event.”
“Ahh . . . the night that started all of this.” He laughs quietly.
“Why did you invite me to the party?” I ask the question I’ve always wondered.
“I don’t know.” He shrugs, a shy smile sliding on his lips. “Maybe because once you told me about missing the job interview I felt like an ass.”
“Be careful there, Zane. You’re showing you have a heart,” I tease, and he chuckles.
