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Elliott 'Eli' Miller is your average 24 year-old with an estranged father and a resentful mother. When he goes back to his hometown to make amends, he inadvertently gets dragged into the activities of an illicit crimina...
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My eyes were sanguinolent, sporting deep purple bags underneath them.
Allow me to explain. Remember that plan of packing in as much sleep as I possibly could before my shoot today? In short, that didn't happen.
The whole night consisted of me tossing and turning in my bed sheets, the culprit being my brain, which refused to rid itself of the mental image of the guy I saw, or rather, shamelessly gawked at in the airport. Something about him left me intrigued and I longed to catch another glimpse of him; a fruitless wish, for the chances of that happening were little to none.
As the first few rays of daylight peeked through my curtains, signalling dawn, I sloppily threw the covers aside and got off the bed. However, I missed my footing and the next moment, found myself face-full of carpet. This was just the greatest way to begin my day.
I internally groaned and heaved myself up, holding onto the bed for support, lest I fall a second time. I'd sufficiently woken up by then and since there was no way I would be able to fall asleep again, I made my way into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
My shoot at ten was a good four hours away, so I made the conscious decision to spend some time walking in Central Park, for two reasons: One, I needed to clear my head of those disagreeable thoughts that kept my subconscious entertained all night, and two, I needed to look somewhat fresh in order to keep my job.
I stepped out of the lobby and was greeted with the vivacious streets of the city that I grew to call home. I took a deep breath and let the deliciously cool morning air permeate my lungs as my feet assumed their rhythmic stride.
It took me about five minutes of brisk walking to reach the park. I chose a peaceful looking trail and connected my AirPods, deciding last-minute to do some jogging.
After some time of simply following the path, occasionally spotting a fellow jogger or two, my pace slowed down till it was back to a leisurely dawdle. My breathing was short and raspy due to my already drying-up throat, so I made the deliberate decision to look for a water fountain.
As I let go of the knob and gulped in the last of my drink of water, a familiar looking cluster of jet-black locks caught my eye. I squinted my eyes for a better look and a wave of realization washed over me as I recognized the enigmatic stranger that caught my eye at the airport. I guess I was wrong to think that I'd never see him again, however, I couldn't help but wonder what business he had at this early hour, especially around Central Park.
This time, I compelled myself to look away and blushed as I recalled how his viridian eyes looked at me the other day. It was merely a casual glance but it made me feel all kinds of warmth inside. By that point I was sure he could see right through my flustered demeanor and burning face.
I looked at the time on my phone and saw that an hour had already gone by since I'd arrived. I estimated that it would take a couple of hours to get ready, with my outfit, hair and makeup to be done for the shoot I had, so I started back to my place.
The moment I entered, I kicked off my shoes and hopped into the shower, feeling and looking considerably less like the pale, sleep-deprived zombie I was before. The warm trickles of water felt amazing and I sighed in satisfaction. Taking my own sweet time, I finished my shower and stepped out, wearing only a bath robe for the time being.
My stomach rumbled, signalling my brain to be immediately cognizant of how hungry I was, so I sauntered into the kitchen to make myself a smoothie bowl. I could never stand the so-called aroma of coffee and have never had a sip of that stuff to this day. My diet was, for the most part, pretty bland, with the occasional sweet treat every few months.
The previous agency I worked with had prescribed vegetarian diets to all their main models, in line with their 'Reduce your carbon footprint' policy, mostly to upkeep their reputation, though. I got used to it pretty soon and never really gave it up. It was, anyway, good for the environment and it didn't affect my health so I didn't see any good reason to stop.
I was prodding at a piece of mango when my doorbell's trill reverberated through my apartment. I got up and opened the door, to be greeted with my manager and best friend, Vivien.
"You better have a good explanation as to why your lazy behind is not at the studio yet," she chastised, while gesturing to my bath robe.
"But Viiiiv, it's only eight. Besides, this robe's comfy," I whined.
She gave me a quizzical look and grumbled under her breath before walking past me and dumping her purse on my couch. Glancing at the fruit bowl on the counter, she picked a banana, and practically inhaled it, tearing off the peel at light speed.
I watched this whole scene with a look of amusement. Ever since we both met through a mutual friend in NYU, we've been inseparable. Everyone thought we were dating, but were just friends who liked to goof around. I always saw her as a big sister and she saw me as her little brother.
On top of that, Vivien made an awesome manager. She was always punctual and presented herself immaculately. In fact, I owed my current job and respectable income to her, seeing as she helped me slime out of a delicate PR issue that I caused some six months ago. It may or may not have involved her concocting a good explanation as to how I accidentally knocked over a bowl of punch over a well known actress at a product launch staining her ten thousand dollar dress.
"Alright then, enough staring, everyone know I'm a catch. Besides, you're gay, act like it."
Before I had time to answer, she ushered me to finish up my food and go get changed so I wouldn't be late.
I buttoned up my shirt and was pulling my jeans on when a thought struck me, "What would Vivien think of mystery guy?"
