Young Collective - Cole Sprouse

chapter one

"You ate my fucking pop tart!"

"It was just lying on the bench?"

"Because I was going to eat it!"

"Yeah well you shouldn't have left it there."

"You're such a selfish twat."

"Elora, all you have is yourself."

"Thanks for the reminder ghandi"

I say, grabbing the half empty bottle of gin on the kitchen tabletop and placing it in my purse. I shove my brother in the back as I walk past the stench of the couch and towards the door. I grab my coat and wrap it over my shoulders, checking my bag again to make sure I have my purse. I turn back towards Jake. He is comfortably slumped back on the couch with a beer in his hand, watching a prison documentary. He takes no notice of my attempted departure so I speak up.

"I'm going." I stare blankly at his body. He reeks, you can practically smell the sweat leeching off of his body and onto every surface he touches. He doesn't turn his head, eyes glued to the box in front of him.

"Where." He mumbles, barely audible.

"Julian Korsers photo shoot? I told you about it yesterday Jake." He doesn't reply, or even take notice. "This is big for me! Mr. Korser is really well known in the industry, I haven't stopped talking about it for weeks." He still doesn't acknowledge me so I turn around and grab the door knob. "You owe me a fucking pop tart." I shut the door firmly and walk down the stairs of the apartment. My brother isn't an asshole I swear. He just has issues.

I stand on the street bend, breathing deeply, trying not to make myself nervous. I look down the road. I watch as a black car rolls down and stops at me. I guess this is my ride. I quickly disperse of the gin bottle in the bin near the apartment. I rub my sweaty hands on my dress and open the door. I land on a cushy car seat and a friendly greeting from the driver. And then I'm off to the airport.

———

The aeroplane food tastes like salvaged mold from in between the cushions on Jakes couch. I decide against eating it and drink the little water instead. I've only got twenty minutes left on the plane. I'm sitting next to an old lady who is writing what looks like a love letter. Maybe she's a poet. She has long grey hair and a fragile body. Despite her old age, her lips are still full and pink and she smells of frangipani and lemon. I glance over and spy on her handwriting which is extremely precise and hard to read.

...rainbows filter my eyes when you stand near, you are like a dreamscape. My skin ripples and curls at your touch. I would like to be in your arms forever. I never want to leave your side- for ducks fly together.

yours, May.

I pretend to look out the window as she suddenly peers at me. She signs off her letter and folds it up. I think she knows I was looking. Oh well. I sigh and press my back into the chair attempting a stretch. I check my phone, 10:02am. I left New York at 7:00am. I'm supposed to be arriving around 10:30am. And then I meet Julian for lunch at 11:00am. And then shooting starts at 1:00pm. I finish scheduling the day in my head. Take another sigh, then decide to nap until I'm woken up by a flight attendant.

———

Los Angeles is really overrated. People talk about how beautiful it is when in reality it's a concrete tip. And I don't mean the suburbs so much but, mostly the inner city. You expect glowing roads and sharing the sidewalk with your favourite celebrity whilst sipping on an exotic Starbuck's secret menu item drink. Palm trees shadowing your footsteps while your sun kissed back is reflecting the warm tingle of the bright sun. Well not today. Today I spotted a few clouds in the sky and most of the palm trees had plastic bags tangled in them due to previous winds. The sidewalks were messy and there were skaters jumping over the homeless as they slept. I didn't see a single celebrity and I never liked Starbuck's anyway. I'm not a hillbilly country girl. Just not a city girl. Don't get me wrong I do love LA. It's a beautiful place full of wonderful creative people. I'd just rather die than live here. I want to move out of my brothers apartment and down to California. The countryside though. Not anywhere where I can't see the stars at night.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just having a bad day and I'm blaming it on LA. All because of Jake eating my fucking pop tart.

I continue walking down the sidewalk towards the cafe where I'm meeting Mr. korser. I try to shake the bad mood as I walk as not to come off as rude. I eventually stand outside the cafe and see the man sitting at a table. He looks calm and elegant with his brown hair glossed back. He looks slick. I brush down my dress, take a deep breath and walk in. A warm breeze lifts my hair as the door closes behind me. The small cafe smells fresh and crisp yet warm. There are only three tables on the first floor, and a cute staircase leading upstairs to another floor with more tables. The register sits in the middle, under the second floor, with a little door that leads back into a kitchen. Mr. Korser is sitting right next to the window of the cafe down on the first floor. I make my way over and introduce myself. He stands up and takes my hand,

"Mrs Dearden, lovely to finally meet in person." The man smiles back at me. He is of Asian descent and has a big gummy smile. I sit down.

"It's a pleasure Mr. Korser-"

"Oh please, it's Julian." He shakes his head.

"Pleasure, Julian." I correct myself.

"So," he sighs as he re-arranges the surfeits. Then he looks up and smiles again. "You want to be a profile photographer?"

"Well yes-"

"Celebrity photographer?" He interrupts me again.

"Well any work I can get really." I answer.

"So just profile?" He looks at me.

"Well I love profile photography but also landscapes, abstraction. But yes mostly profile." I smile.

"Well you've come to the right person for profile. And you get a real insight today- a real treat." He smiles to himself and picks up his menu, I follow his actions but keep his gaze. "We have the sprouse twins in line for shoot this week. Shall we order?" He flicks through the thick pages. He mumbles inaudible words when he sees something on the menu he either likes or despises. I study him for a few seconds before speaking up.

"Uh- yes" I reply, trying to figure out who sproose is. But I ultimately give up and flick through my own menu.

-
A/N

Hello lovelies, welcome to the first chapter of Young collective!! Hope you enjoyed, please leave a comment and vote! Also follow me for updates on this fanfic <3

The photo is Jake Dearden (portrayed by Luca Fersko)