Not Just A Pretty Face

15. Leonel

“Champagne, sir?”

I delicately picked up the glass stem between two fingers and tilted my chin in a slight nod to the waiter circulating the room like a polite, black-and-white-clad ghost.

“So, like I was saying, Eugene’s elephant prints? Come on, it’s not a safari.”

“I think they’re innovative.”

I was staying the fuck out of this conversation. It was still surreal to be invited into it at all, let alone witnessing the heavyweight fight about to unfold.

Asa and Joaquín were two of the top male models in the world, and they were signed to different agencies. It was a rare friendship between guys who were technically competitors, but somehow it worked. They let their agents handle duking it out for the best gigs, and at parties like this one, they hung out -- and flirted, of course.

Rumor had a lot more happen between them, but I was about to get my first proper glimpse at it.

“It’s stylish in a retro-contemporary way,” Asa said matter-of-factly, sipping his champagne and giggling as he leaned into Joaquín. “You just hate animals.”

Joaquín clicked his tongue and gestured toward me with his glass, addressing me instead of his friend. “Untrue.”

I laughed. “Animal prints?”

“No, he got bit by a dog or something.” Asa winked. “Since then, he rejects everything. Jameson made him walk in this cute little number with kittens on it. Nearly pissed myself at the look on his face.”

I knew exactly which collection and show that was; I hadn’t been following Joaquín on Instagram for years for nothing. I pretended this was the first I’d heard of it, though, and laughed.

“I like the knit ties with everything,” I admitted. Who didn’t like knit ties? Boring, but safe.

“Hmm,” Asa hummed. “It seemed old to me, but the runways are always a step behind us.”

I grinned. Models really liked to think they were on the cutting edge of fashion -- even more so than anyone else in the damn business.

In reality, a lot of male models couldn’t afford the clothes they wore in print spreads. The top few hundred, maybe. Luckily for me, it looked like I had a shot.

Not that I’d complain about making a living, but if I could make more money for the same shit?

Hell yeah.

Asa offered me a nibble from the passing hors d’oeuvres tray, but I winked and shook my head. I knew that trick: fatten up the other agency’s guys.

Asa clicked his tongue and shrugged. “So, Leo, your first show? How’re you liking it?”

“It’s… a lot,” I admitted. That much was true. “But I’ve been waiting a long time for this shot.”

Joaquín half-smiled, casting Asa a wistful glance. “Oh, that first-show feeling. You never forget your first time.”

Asa toasted to that, sliding his arm around Joaquín’s shoulders. “Yours was glorious, baby. Nobody will forget that week in Paris.”

“What happens in Paris…” Joaquín smirked, clinking his glass to mine. “You did great, baby.”

Just then, a hot blond sidled up behind me, putting his hand on my shoulder. “How’re you? Great job earlier.”

I turned to face him for a quick look up and down.

Well, wasn’t he sexier than a tall lemonade? He stood an inch shorter or so, and he had earnest, wide, dark eyes.