Ash is a fashion model, not by choice but the desire of his projecting mother. People think he's too cocky for his own good, judging him based on what he posts online. But Ash hates the brush he's been painted with, along with the stereotypes of the...
ghost: (noun) 1. an apparition of a dead person which is believed to appear or become manifest to the living, typically as a nebulous image.
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I'm dragged to a casting at four in the morning by my mother, the brand is a popular well known fashion chain. I've never worked with them before but I can tell what sort of company they are based on the way their make-up artists and stylists are running around like headless chickens.
Desperate to impress their boss by working a hundred miles an hour.
My mother rang the probation office to let them know I'd be a little late to placement today as the shoot was in central London. Carol was fine with this as long as I turn up later and she can sign me out for the hours I've done.
Whilst I'm doing my shoot, I can see my mother out of the corner of my eye making connections with other people. I resist the urge to get annoyed at her and roll my eyes, if I'm less reactive she's more bearable.
She drops me off at probation just after twelve and my eyes are burning into the back of my skull from how tired I am, now I have to shift through rubbish when my body feels deflated. The only good thing is seeing Bodi's face, that is the only benefit here.
I say goodbye to my mother and jump out of the car, walking straight up to the manor. The second I walk into the hall I shudder, making me feel like someone has walked over my graze.
My skin burns cold and I take a slow glance over the attire, nothing looks different but it certainly feels different.
There is a gust of wind from behind me which slams one of the front doors shut, I jump out of my skin and press a hand to my heart. "Fuck sake," I curse under my breath.
Trying my hardest to shake this sinister feeling that has washed over my body. I've been here for almost a month now yet I've never felt like the way I do now before, it's different. Creepily different.
"Hey," Bodi's voice snaps me back into the room. He emerges from the dining room and leans onto the wall in his dusty overalls, a smear of dirt across his cheek and hair messy. Is there anything this man can't do? "Where've you been?"
"Doing my mum's job," I release in a long breath.
"Ah," Bodi's eyes look up at the ceiling once. "Was it bad?"
I shake my head and pull off my bag, beginning to remove my overalls. "Not bad, she's just a handful at these castings. Handing out my portfolio to everyone and anyone, always trying to make connections. Honestly, I am so over it."
Bodi snorts lowly and I begin to take off my clothes, unphased that he's standing directly in front of me. His eyes roam over my bare chest and I can see his throat tighten.
"I want to see your portfolio," he comments before resting his gaze back on my face.
I pull on the overalls and chuckle to myself. "No, you really don't."
