A photographer with a secret blog and a pop star who's lack of a love life is ruining his career, team up to fulfill both of their wants. She gains popularity, stays out of prison, and also receives the not-so-bad byproduct: money; while he and his...
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Three days. My time is up and all I've managed to get done is my grocery shopping. I barely made it to my appointment on time, and I'm never late.
"Ok—lie down but hold the upper half of your body up on your arm," I call out across the room, my hand still moving in hopes of somehow positioning her into the right spots without moving myself. "Ok, good. I want you to lay your head back and close your eyes softly—keep your lips apart too."
She follows my instructions with only a minimal amount of hesitance before getting fully comfortable and positioned.
This is a revenge photoshoot. She told me in the email, while we were discussing what she wanted and where she wanted to shoot at, that she was cheated on a couple of months ago with a girl who looks nothing like her. And—understandably—it did a number on her confidence so, she decided she needed something to pick herself up and maybe make him feel a little bad as-well.
But when I saw her, admittedly, I was shocked. She showed up in a dark emerald dress that trailed elegantly behind her and perfectly matched her dark green eyes. She has deep brown hair that reaches about midway down her back and she had curled it and brushed it out so that it framed her face. Her dark brown eyeliner and foxy lashes didn't help her beat the heartbreaker allegations I made up in my mind.
On top of her being drop-dead-gorgeous, she's as nice as a person could be without making you uncomfortable or worried about crushing their hopes and dreams just by speaking the wrong way.
Even now, as she proves to be the perfect model, I can't comprehend how someone would cheat on her. But I guess that's how the world works—or at least the way the people on it do.
Her beauty was even enough to slightly distract me from what waited for me after this was over.
But like I said, I can't hide from my karma forever.
I sit back in my seat and stare out at the mostly empty parking lot in front of me. I want to ignore my phone and pretend it's broken and that's why I can't call to confirm my stance on their 'business proposal', but my screen keeps lighting up with messages and new comments on my blog and I can't help but be reminded of what's waiting for me.
I also looked him up. I didn't look him up until last night because I couldn't stand the thought of even touching my laptop and seeing the last thing opened being my now overly popular blog.
He's a pop star.
He's a pop star with twenty million followers on instagram and eight million on twitter: and I had no clue he existed. I slept with someone millions of people pay to see every year and I just posted a half naked picture of him on my website like it was nothing. Sure, I've probably slept with decently important people, but nobody who was important enough that my post would cause a scandal over.
Oh yea, I caused a scandal.
While I was looking him up, with my chest pressed against my legs and my thumb nail pressed between my shivering teeth, I found more news articles than I'm proud of about my post. Each and every one of them was freaking out about how the Julian Rhodes was finally caught with having romantic connections with somebody. And yes, I did dig deeper.
