When a Star and Moon Collide (ManxMan)

1: New York Fashion Week

Presley’s POV

“Ugh!” I groaned. I woke up lazily because my head really hurts. I realized I’ve been working all week long since it was New York Fashion Week. Last night I walked for Michael Kors and I can’t remember what happened after the show. Maybe I headed to a bar and got drunk or something. It’s no big deal anyway. My phone rings suddenly and as usual, it’s my annoying manager, Louisa.

“Where the hell are you?!” She asked furiously like she was a vicious monster. She’s always like that to me; maybe she’s jealous because I’m gorgeous.

“In my bed and I’m still sleeping, obvi.” I rolled my eyes.

“Get up! Tom Ford just called me and he’s looking for you and he said he needs you in his show this afternoon.” Duh? Every designer needs me. Having me in their shows or campaigns makes their brand climb on the top of the heap.

“What?! Ugh! I hate this life! I know I’m a hot, rich, famous supermodel but I need a damn rest too!” I groaned in laziness.

“Just get your rich, blonde ass off here!” Then she dropped the call. What a total bitch.

A deep sigh came out of my mouth as I entered in my bathroom to take a quick shower. I quickly fixed myself up wearing wool pants, white top, fur jacket and a pair of sneakers. You know it’s a part of my job to be hot and gorgeous even though I’m all that since birth. I really love my job because being a fashion model is my ultimate reverie when I was a kid, but sometimes you know, I hate it.

Anyway, let me introduce myself first. I’m Presley Keio Ratajkowski, apparently gay, 6’0 in height and 23 years old. Oh, don’t be stupid to read my last name because I’m of British Isles, German, Polish and Jewish ancestry. Damn fortunate genes I know. Well my parents are super gross rich because we own the International Management Group Worldwide and we encompass a lot of investments on other disgusting rich companies. I maybe mean sometimes, but I still don’t know why my idiot fans still adore me like as if I’m their mother. Haters? I have a lot too but I don’t mind them at all. You know what they say, haters gonna hate.

“Hi dumbass Steve, come pick me up here in my apartment right now.” I called my stupid driver. Well he totally is, because as far as I remembered, one time he asked me what the car wipers are for.

5 minutes later he arrived and opened the door for me.

“Let’s go to Conti’s, I’m going to eat my lunch.” I said to Steve then he nods. Well I’m not going to the show with an empty stomach, I may faint and I will probably look horrible and I don’t want that for me. Besides, I don’t care if Louisa will get mad waiting for me; she’s just my annoying manager.

As I jumped off my car, a lot of people were looking at me but I’m used to it. Thank heavens there are no paparazzi at this moment. I really hate those cows. I entered to Conti’s then suddenly my phone rings and I answered it, it’s Olivier. He is a famous French photographer; well he’s the one who actually I’ve been working together and my very close friend since when I was at my debut spotlight in fashion industry. He’s the one who took my first ever Vogue Homme Paris cover, way back 4 years ago.

“Hey babe, how are you?” He said cheerfully. I hate slash love him for being my number one fan. Yikes!

“Ugh! Stop calling me babe, I’m not your boyfriend or something.” I said annoyingly, rolling my pretty green apple eyes.

“Seriously babe, how are you?” Well sometimes I found him cute when he’s worried about me.

“I’m all good; I’m here at Conti’s to eat my lunch.”

“Mind if I join you?” He asked playfully.

“Hell no, I don’t want some attention right now okay?” I said in a serious tone. Like really? All of the people inside here will probably stare at us the whole time. Besides, I’m so tired right now but I can’t help it that these stupid donkeys around me wants to stare at me the whole time. I know in fact that I’m hot, rich, sexy guy but can I have at least a moment of peace? Ugh.

“Okay, sexy. I’ll be there. See you!” Ugh! I hate him so much right now.

30 minutes later and Olivier arrived. He’s wearing his classic look, leather jacket and his favourite ripped jeans. He promptly noticed me and approached me casually. He kissed my cheeked and greeted me.

“Hey babe! You look so handsome today!” He complemented. I’m handsome and I know it.

“Yeah I know so please stop kissing me; my cheek might be scratched by your super dry lips.” I said in obviously, and then he chuckled.

A dogface waiter approached in our table and gave two menus. I can actually tell that he’s hitting on Olivier, and I don’t want that. He’s my very close friend slash photographer slash number one fan. So it’s time to shine! I intentionally dropped my handkerchief on the floor and, “Hey felcher, mind picking up and clean my expensive handkerchief?” The dogface waiter was actually intimidated by my hotness so he did what he ought to do.

“What’s that for?” Confused Olivier asked.

“Cleary that salad spinner was hitting on you and I don’t want that.” I said like I’m his possessive husband in the whole wide world. Well don‘t get me wrong, we’re just really that close so I want him for me only, AS A FRIEND.

“Well I can smell that someone’s jealous.” He chuckled and quickly pinched my nose.

“Over my rich, hot, dead, body.” I said rolling my eyes.

“Wait, you look so pale. Are you okay?” He asked worriedly. Here we go again.

“To be honest, I’m not. You know, New York Fashion Week is ongoing.”

“I can see that, you’re dominating the social media again. I think you need some rest.” Obviously, Olivier. Obviously.

“Yeah, I really need some rest. Maybe I’ll go to Greece next week?”

As the time goes by, we ate our lunch and he offered to drive me by at the venue of Tom Ford’s show. Sometimes, I think that Olivier can be a boyfriend material. He’s handsome and sweet but I really can’t feel something romantic towards him. We arrived at the venue around 2:30PM and with that, I just saw Louisa standing feet away with her fuming look. She literally looked like a retarded monkey.

“WHAT DID TOOK YOU SO LONG?!” Louisa asked me as if she’s a buffalo exhaling toxins.

“Olivier here can explain.” I said in a bored attitude because Olivier will surely cover me up.

“I’m so sorry Louisa; I invited him to eat lunch with me.” Olivier explained and I can say that he can win an Academy Award for that.

“Okay, I understand. Just tell me next time if you’re going to invite him again. Let’s go inside Keio.” Louisa commanded, and then Olivier and I exchanged goodbyes as I headed inside the venue.

Tom Ford quickly approached us with a big smile in his face, we exchanged hugs. “You look gorgeous as always Keio.” Yeah I know that since birth, Tom. I greeted him back and then later on he guided me on the back stage so I can dress up already.

At exactly 4:00PM, the show started and of course! I’m the opening walk since I’m the king bee here. As I walked through the runway, a lot of hippos were staring at me and obviously admiring each and every part of my perfect, hot body. I can’t help it.

When the amazing show was finally over, I quickly headed in the comfort room to relieve my gorgeous bladder. I bumped into someone, he's a guy obviously. He's also a model I guess.

"Hey Presley! Can we take a selfie? If you don't mind." He asked. Huh, I told you I'm famous.

"Sure." I smiled then we took a selfie. Like what I've said before, sometimes being famous is really hard.

"It's Stefano, by the way." He stated with a smile. What a gorgeous name for a gorgeous guy. He's taller than me and has a big body built than me. I feel like I'm a midget.

"Italian?" I asked then he nodded followed by a smile. Gosh! He's so sexy.