When up-and-coming model Isabelle meets talented but jaded photographer Milo, sparks fly despite their age difference. Their romance becomes the talk of the New York City fashion scene, fueling rumors and speculation about their scandalous affair. A...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
She wondered why he let her sleep in if he was already up.
She then wondered if this would be like the other meaningless or slightly more than meaningless one night stands she had.
Trying to piece the night back together, her mind didn't know what to grab onto first. The electric charge of his fingertips the memory of how it all started, blurred by one too many whiskeys.
She remembered a fur coat, the balcony...movement through the rooms until she found herself...here.
The frustration she felt at letting herself do this, was also mixed in with a bit of pride for doing this.
It may have been largely in her subconscious until that night, but now it was out in the open. There was something between them.
But at that point it was hard to tell whether it was something fleeting...or more. And she didn't want to push it.
She was naked, and though there was no one in the room, she covered her top half with the sheet, clutching against her Chet as she propped herself up on her elbows. Just at the same time as Milo showed up seemingly out of nowhere, leaning against the tall, European door frame.
He had glasses on - 70s style and clear- that she didn't see him wear before, and a white long sleeve that made him look like he was glowing. But she wasn't sure if that was just her perception of him now. His light blue jeans clung naturally to his body. Isabelle couldn't help it, but she felt a carnal yearning towards him there and then, that took her by surprise.
"Morning," Milo said smiling, holding his forearms. There was something about the ease with which he said it that instantly made her feel comfortable, and think that maybe this was't going to be like all the other times.
She was still learning about love, but this was something altogether instinctual.
She smiled. "Hi," she said, relaxing into the morning.
"Don't do that," he said.
"Do what?" Isabelle arched her eyebrows, wondering if she was doing wrong, resorting to her childhood trauma of punishment for doing things 'wrong'.
He came closer then, gently. "Be all cute and coy like that. Makes it hard to stay away from you," he came closer and sat on the bed, cocking his head to the side, and reaching out to push a strand of hair out of her eyes.
Am I in a movie? Isabelle, wondered to herself. She blushed and looked down. Taking breath - a moment - she looked back up.
Maybe it was going to be something more than fleeting.
