ONE TO WATCH

CHARLIE: SNUBBED

Charlie was preparing to walk the runway for Max Mara at The Historic Foundry in the Isola district when she unexpectedly spotted Shortie just a few feet away. A backstage dresser was making last-minute adjustments to a beautifully tailored pantsuit, similar in shape to the dusty mauve outfit she would be wearing herself on the runway. Frantically she waved in Shortie's direction, trying to catch her eye, but Shortie looked right past her with a blank expression.

Maybe she hadn't recognized her?

It was possible. Charlie was wearing a ribbon that partially covered her blonde hair. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that Shortie had deliberately avoided her.

But, why?

It was a rare and unlikely event for them both to be booked for the same designer, but there was no reason for rivalry. If anything, Shortie was a better fit for Max Mara. With her height and colouring, the clothing looked super chic on her.

The sound of a violin over the loudspeaker signaled the models to queue in the wings. Charlie slipped into the zone, letting the designer fuss over her with last-minute touches, her mind focused and clear. She'd heard her idol, Chiara Ferragni, would be seated in the front row and desperately wanted to make an impression. Of course, she knew she wouldn't be able to see Chiara. The runway was raised higher than the seated audience, making it impossible to see much while walking.

As she stepped into the limelight, she kept her head held straight and found her rhythm. In her peripheral vision, she saw handheld phones raised high above shadowed hairlines, bloggers eager to capture the look of the moment. Her eyes scanned the industrial complex and focused in on a bronze pole at the back of the room, to which she glued her gaze. She'd learned this trick from the Naomi Campbell Masterclass, it helped her to maintain her posture. When she reached the end of the runway, her hips shifted effortlessly, showcasing her ensemble to its best advantage. Despite being asked not to show personality in this runway show, Charlie's face broke into a coat hanger like smile. She knew better than to blindly take instructions.

With elongated strides, she headed back down the runway, her eyes shifting focus, locking onto a new focal point. She reached the temporarily installed canvas wings and let out a soft squeal.

God, it felt good!

When the show was over, feeling high on adrenaline, she hurried over to swap notes with Shortie, who was rapidly undressing.

"I thought that was you," she said cheerfully. "How did it go?"

Shortie looked unsurprised to see her. "It was fine," she muttered with a deadpan expression, barely lifting her head. "One walk is the same as another, right?"

Charlie nodded. "I suppose so." She didn't agree though. Since deciding to model, Charlie had committed to making every walk significant—an opportunity to learn, grow, and shine. She always did her best to stand out and show something of herself.

It crossed her mind that modeling might be 'just a job' to Shortie. There were plenty of attractive girls like her who took their looks for granted and didn't know how lucky they were to be picked for runway.

"Are you heading home now?" Charlie asked.

"No. I'm meeting Iman for bubble tea." Shortie's response was brusque and perfunctory.

"Oh." Charlie paused awkwardly. She wasn't fishing for an invitation; she was busy herself, but she wondered why Shortie hadn't asked her along. It felt like a snub.

"I'll see you back home?" she said, trying to keep her tone friendly despite the obvious brush-off.

"Yeah. See ya." Shortie responded.

Charlie undressed, feeling deflated. She hadn't imagined it—Shortie had deliberately ignored her before the show. She pondered what she could have done to upset her new housemate. Her mind flew to Delyan. Perhaps she wasn't the only girl in the house crushing on him.