Not Just A Pretty Face

18. Leonel

The blast of cold air down the escalator made me curl my fingers into the sleeves of my jacket, playfully hunching behind Gideon when he turned to get a glance at me.

“It’s brutal,” he said with a laugh. “And hell on the hair.” He reached out to ruffle my hair, giving me an obnoxious grin.

I tried to duck out of the way, groaning and then headbutting his arm before stepping down one stair on the escalator. “You dick.”

“The wind did it already. I was just fixing it.” He smirked.

I took out my phone to quickly fix my hair while I could, stepping off the escalator and following Gideon to the exit.

“Tap out,” he instructed and I quickly glanced up from my phone, then rummaged for the plastic card to get out of the station.

“Well, that’s kind of useless.” I pocketed my card again, then my phone. “Why’d you have to do that?”

He shrugged. “It just works differently. You pay per zone, if I remember right, not a flat rate.”

“Oh.”

I followed Gideon to the street outside, glad to be out of the depths of the underground and back into fresh, sunny, warm March air. Thank God London was having such unusually clear weather this weekend.

From my first glance at the neighborhood, it didn’t look like the kind of place Gideon would spend a lot of time. Honestly, I was surprised he even knew about it.

The street stretched out ahead of us, all souvenir shops and boutiques sprawling across the sidewalks. Tourists, punks, and annoyed-looking hipsters skirting around the slow-moving crowds made up most of the crowd walking down both sides of the sidewalk and even the street sometimes.

People cut across the street to the station, so I stepped out of their way and started walking down our side of the street. “This way?”

“Sure.” Gideon nodded. “Food’s this way. I like the vegetarian and vegan choices around here.”

I cast him a startled glance. “Are you veggie?”

“Yep.”

I hummed thoughtfully, then nodded. “Always been?”

“Yeah, for a long time now.” He kept his hands tucked in his pockets. “I initially did it as part of a diet back when I was modeling, actually.”

“You never mentioned on Instagram or anything--” Before I even finished the sentence, I realized that sounded a little stalkerish, and my cheeks heated up. I tried to stay casual.

“No. People get weird about it sometimes.” Gideon laughed, that deep note ringing out freely. “People can guess if they stalk my food photos close enough…”

I snorted. “Ain’t no one got time for that.”

He laughed again, then gestured around. “What do you think?”

“It’s… not your scene, is it?”

He chuckled. “No. There’s more… upmarket… veggie places in town in London. It’s the boutiques we’re here for. They’re more your style.”

“Ohhh.” I perked up. I’d submitted my paperwork that morning to Raymond before scurrying off for the station. “I’m going to get paid soon, right?”

Gideon snorted. “I’m buying it. The agency is, rather. You’re our darling now… your image has to match.”

Hearing him tell me I was their up-and-coming star did far more for my ego than hearing a thousand random compliments from the army of journalists, editors, interns, and makeup artists who never left me the fuck alone.