love came calling, twice // olly murs

24.

Maybe she should have thought it a little longer before offering to model for Olly. Maybe she should have given it more than a few hours of thought. But she really had thought about it: she thought about it upside down, backwards and forwards and everytime she came to the same conclusion: she would lose nothing by offering to help him, so what was the harm? Of course, this started her on a mental tangent about why was she always so concerned about what she had to lose or gain in a situation? What about him? Shouldn't she be thinking more selflessly? This of course, led her to smacking her head off his desk while she stared at his zipped up portfolio and debated flipping through it, just to get a peak.

But the last time she had actually asked to see it, he threw it in the backseat of his car. Invading his privacy wasn't going to help the situation at all, so she left it.

What it came down to was that Olly was in a bind: he needed a model, someone who wouldn't expect pay and who wouldn't be a diva in less than two days time and well, she had two arms, two legs and a head, how hard could it be? She had been told she was fairly good looking and although there were a million things she would change about it given the option, she could admit that she had a decent figure.

And so she offered. And then he accepted. Oh, and then he hugged her.

Maybe it was the hug that threw her off. Not that he hugged her, for she had been getting the impression that he was a touchy-feely type, but how she felt when he did. That she responded by wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his shoulder, breathing in his scent. There was something about Olly that was undeniably comforting. Maybe it was his unexpected, but open desire to help her. If she was going out on a limp, she would call it taking care of her. But she wasn't that absurd.

Still, there was something in his eyes when he looked at her when she said that love was in the air the night before that stayed with her. Captured in her mind like one of his many photographs.

The morning after the barbeque, Amelia paddled down the stairs, rubbing her eyes and yawning. No one else seemed to be up and poking her head into the living room, she wasn't surprised to find Olly laying across the couch, his mouth slightly open and his head tipped back. She felt a pang of guilt; she was the reason, after all, that he had no bedroom. Maybe it was time she considered going to find a place of her own.

Contemplating the advantages of a condo versus an apartment, Amelia stepped into the kitchen nonchalantly. However, upon discovering it occupied, her eyes doubled in size. Standing beside the coffee pot, in a long white t-shirt that obviously was not her own, was Taylor. She turned slowly and when her eyes fell on Amelia she jumped and turned bright crimson.

"Amelia!" she said nervously, a hand pressed to her chest. "What are you doing up so early?"

Glancing at the clock, a smile began to stretch across Amelia's face. "It's just after eight, hardly early," she sat down at the kitchen table and observed her friend. "Why Taylor, are you perhaps doing a walk of shame right here in the guy's very own kitchen?"

Never in a million years did Amelia think she would find Taylor in kitchen, even despite the bantering and flirting that had gone on between she and Adam the night before. Taylor was a woman of strong morals and something as scandalous as a one-night stand, even if it progressed into something more, was not on her list of things to do before she died. But the sight was amusing, to say the least, and Amelia was going to reveal in it while she could.

Taylor blushed and poured the coffee into two mugs, one for herself and one for Amelia. "I don't know. Maybe. Why? Is it that obvious?"

Amelia laughed into her coffee when Taylor handed it to her. "I'm pretty positive that the t-shirt you're wearing is a few sizes too big for it to belong to you. Furthermore, I'm pretty positive that you are not currently living here."