Unprofessional (Under editing)

Chapter 25: Perfect

Jeanette and I stood just outside the shooting area, and to say I was nervous would be an understatement. When Jeanette told Isaac she was tagging along, he gave her a long, unreadable look before saying, "Sure, whatever." I thought he'd be mad, but instead, he brushed it off like it didn't matter.

When I asked Jeanette about it, she just shushed me.

The whole reason we were here was, supposedly, for me to get a feel of how scouting worked. After I confessed to the woman at the agency that it was my first time scouting, they seemed intrigued rather than dismissive. They invited us to observe the shoot, suggesting it would be a good learning experience.

"You ready?" she asked now, her tone casual, but her eyes scanned me like she was looking for any sign of hesitation.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

We stepped into the shoot, and it was like walking into a dream—or a different dimension. Models were scattered around in various states of preparation, some in intricate costumes, others in satin robes and most in their underwear, while assistants darted between them, carrying garment bags and steaming props. In one corner, a hair and makeup team buzzed around like bees, styling, adjusting, perfecting. The sheer energy of the place was electric.

"Excuse me!" A guy with impossibly broad shoulders brushes past us, and I can't help but stare.

Like damn, so, much, muscle.

"Ok, you need to stop staring," Jeanette said, manually turning my head, so I was looking at her.

"I'm sorry, I just can't help it. There's just so many muscles," I whisper, glancing back at the parade of jaw-dropping good looks.

Jeanette rolled her eyes then scoffed, "Compared to what I've seen, this is nothing." She said, leading me toward someone that can help us. But I still can't, staring at the muscular men surrounding us.

I then spot a petite woman with muted blue hair, glancing at her watch. She's dressed in a grunge-chic style, layers of oversized sweaters and vintage jewelry perfectly curated. I decide to approach her, thinking she might be able to help.

"Excuse me—" I start to say, but the woman's face lights up in relief before I can finish.

"Oh, thank God, you're late," she says, cutting me off. Before I can respond, she grabs my arm, whisking me away.

I glance over my shoulder at Jeanette, who shrugs, looking equally lost. "You'll be fine!" she calls after me.

The woman brought me to a dressing area, where racks of clothing gleamed under the soft glow of designer lights. She handed me a voluminous gown that looked straight out of a Victorian painting.

The dress was a deep emerald green, with layers of tulle cascading like waterfalls. The bodice was structured but adorned with delicate lace that spilled onto the sheer sleeves. A light shimmer catching the light with every movement. It was regal, romantic, and completely unlike anything I'd ever worn before.

"Put it on. We don't have much time," the women said, shoving the gown into my hands before disappearing behind the curtain.

As I slipped into the dress, I caught my reflection in the mirror. The fabric hugged my torso, cinching at the waist before billowing out dramatically. I felt like I'd been transported to another century—one where ballrooms and chandeliers weren't out of place.

When I stepped out, the women let out a breathy "Wow."

"You look stunning," she said, circling me like an artist inspecting her work.