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...
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The standing ovation and roaring applause they all received - the models, the designer, the crew - somehow meant a little less without Milo there. And Isabelle hated herself for not being Abel to enjoy that moment, that success dampened by something as silly - and magnanimous - as his presence.
As soon as she got off, she ran to her phone, but there was nothing. Not even a little text. What was going on?
Now she was starting to get nervous.
As they were packing up, Isabelle overheard a couple of the girls talking about an afterparty.
All she wanted to do now was call it a night and go to sleep.
But something inside of her jolted when she hear Milo's name pop up in conversation.
It was Emily's voice, no doubt:
"Everyone's going to be there. Oh, and that hot photographer, Milo?" The girls giggled, and Isabelle felt her face flush. Was she missing something here?
She slung her backpack over her shoulder and walked up to that group.
"Hey Iz," Emily said casually, "we're going out for a smoke, then the after, are you coming?" The girls looked at her half vacantly half judgementally but she didn't care. She didn't realize she was nodding her head yes until she was in one of the 3 cabs that whisked them all away to an apartment on the upper east side.
When they all stumbled in, the party was already in full swing.
"Where's Larry?" Emily wailed, referring to her manager, "I need coke."
Another girl, Lily, rolled her eyes and grabbed Emily's elbow.
"Come on, let's go find somewhere to drop our bags," Isabelle was way too nervous about the prospect of running into Milo to try and stop her.
They found an empty bedroom, and after dropping off their slinky backpacks, Lily called Isabelle into the bathroom and they touched up their makeup. Lily was doing her eyeliner, and somehow stripping off her shirt at the same time, leaving her in the small body con dress underneath it.
Isabelle looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing all black. Tight but not too revealing. It would have to do. It made her look older, more mature.
Lily, as if reading her mind, turned to Isabelle and said, "you look hot," and then they walked downstair like two girls who had all the youth and beauty in their hands. A different kind of currency.
Except the whole party was filled with beautiful people, or rich, or powerful. And it all meant different things depending on who you were.
Generally, Isabelle didn't mind having a good time. But this time, she hated it. If Milo was going to show up, or if he wasn't, she was dreading either outcome.
There was something off but she didn't know what it was.
It was only when she was stuck in a conversation with some investment banker, who wouldn't stop going off about something - what she didn't remember- did Isabelle look up from her drink, and her heart fluttered as she saw Milo. Sitting, on a sofa chair. And on his lap, a beautiful, young model.
She froze, and Milo caught her eye instinctively. His facial expression changed form relaxed an laughing, to all suddenly very serious. It seemed he mouthed something to her, but she was already on her way.
"Excuse me," Isabelle swerved up and around the crowds, up to the 2nd floor, trying to find where she left her stuff.
So this is why he didn't contact me, her mind was reeling, he was with someone else and he didn't want me to find out. He WAS USING ME.
Her throat felt constricted. She tried a few doors and finally found the one where her backpack lay splayed open on the bed, makeup and other random things were thrown around the room. She swore at herself for being so messy.
As she was gathering them, she heard a sound, and looking up towards the door, there he was. Like he never left.
"Isabelle," he said softly, coming up to her like an injured animal, slowly and softly extending his arm toward her. "That was not what it looked like."
She looked at him for a moment and then kept on furthering her things in silence. She wasn't good with confrontation but inside she felt a storm brewing, She didn't want to give him satisfaction.
"What are you doing?" He asked again, a little hopelessly this time, and Isabelle paused.
"I'm leaving," she said, turning to look at him.
"Can you give me a moment to explain?" Milo said, and there was something in his eyes that made her think she should give him a chance.
"A moment. The truth," Isabelle demanded.
"The truth...this girl has been driving me crazy this whole year, she doesn't leave me alone. But there is nothing going on between us. You are the only one I'm seeing, right now." Milo said, first gauging her reaction. And as Isabelle couldn't help but soften a bit in his presence, he continued: "You can ask...whoever is here," he waved at the door smiling gently and knowingly, chuckling, "Nothing happened. She just showed up, and wouldn't leave me alone."
Isabelle looked at his eyes and maybe it was because she wanted to believe him that she did, and she felt a sting, but at the same time she wasn't going to give up her power just like that.
"No you're right," Isabelle said and she felt him relax, "I don't have the right to ask you this anyway."
Milo knitted his brows together, "Well, I'm not going to ask how many hearts you're breaking right now either."
She needed this comedic relief so after a few beats, she said, "A couple."
"A couple," Milo repeated to himself, "I know," he said more to himself than to her.
He came a few steps closer to her.
"You were great today," and he almost reached out to touch her hair but pulled back.
Isabelle wondered how much it took for him to make it seem like a movie or if this is simply how he was in real life.
"Then why did you leave, and not text me?" Isabelle couldn't help but pout, arms crossed around her body. She knew she was being difficult, but she felt she deserved to.
"Because silly, I knew I was going to see you. Wanted o see you," he corrected himself. "I got pulled into something else at the end of the show, and then here, I wasn't expecting to be here but I had some business. I was going to ask to see you this weekend."
Isabelle looked at him, and after a moment decided to give in to him.
"Let's not talk about any more of this tonight," she collapsed on his shoulder and they embraced for what felt like a long time.
He then looked back at her, and kissed her gently on the lips, then further, expertly opening her mouth with his own and moving into a French kiss.
When they pulled back, he said, "Now that's a kiss."
Isabelle knew that their connection, her feelings towards him, their attraction, betrayed her more than any anger ever could.
"Come on," he said, sliding hid fingers between hers taking her hands expertly and naturally, "I've got somewhere we can go. Just the two of us."
