Teach Me (GxG)

Twenty-One

In the past, weekends meant nothing to me. If the weekdays began to overwhelm me, I could simply leave and do what I really desired.

I never worried about class; the work was easy anyway. Not to mention my parents working too much to notice.

That was the past, though. Now, the weekends were some of my only times that I could truly rest. Serious question: Why did high schoolers need so much homework?! At least for now I could take a break from schoolwork and catch up on my precious beauty sleep.

At least I thought I would be home alone on this Saturday, but after waking up to thirty missed calls from my manager Paola, I knew that was too good to be true.

It was only eight in the morning as I traveled down the stairs and into the kitchen. While making my toast, I heard the familiar clacking of heels echoing throughout the house. I probably shouldn't have given her the keys to my home.

"Peyton!" I rolled my eyes.

"You're not a rooster, you don't have to scream in the morning like that."

She charged into the kitchen with her arms folded, and ignoring my previous statement. "Why didn't you answer any of my calls?"

I took a sip of orange juice, lifting my phone so she could see the time for herself. "Does that answer your question?"

Her cold eyes glared into my soul, not amused in the slightest. "We need to have a talk."

"Whatever it is, I really hope it was important enough to ruin my precious beauty sleep."

"Well, if you still have hopes of being a supermodel instead of undertaking daddy's business then yes, I would say it is important enough."

I was still half asleep until I heard her utter those words. Now, I couldn't help but anticipate her next words.

"Remember that photoshoot you had a while back with Loré?" I nodded my head slowly. "The editor-in-chief of the biggest magazine in the country came across your photos and was in awe. In her own words, you have 'the perfect aura that we're looking for.'"

I stared blankly at Paola, my mind not registering a single word she said after hearing "editor-in-chief of the biggest magazine."

"Peyton? Hello? Peyton?" She snapped her fingers, knocking me out of my daze. "Are you paying attention?"

"Um, I, yeah you said, fuck, I don't know." My mouth was a blurting out random sounds in hopes I would form coherent sentences.

"Peyton, the Hannah Vintoure personally asked to meet with you! This is an opportunity that many models will never have in their entire careers! And... we have a meeting with her in forty minutes."

My eyes widened. "Forty minutes? Why did you tell me sooner-Oh."

"'Oh' is correct. Now go get ready; being late is not an option."

I put down my breakfast and ran-well mostly slid- up the stairs and to my room. I did not think it was possible for me to get ready quickly, but there was always a first for everything.

All it took was my arms turning into putty after trashing my room to find a good outfit. Even with all that effort, I could only manage to find a denim skirt and a plain black top. Fuck it, at least I have a pretty face to make up for my lackluster outfit.

In no time Paola and I were out the door and headed downtown. My heartbeat increased, begging to jump out my chest. After resting my head on the window, I closed my eyes and took deep breaths. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

Soon, we were downtown standing in front of a humongous skyscraper. My legs were wobbly, as if they magically turned into spaghetti noodles overnight.

"Are you ready?"