Troye Sivan
"So last night... that was something."
He hums in reply, spooning his porridge into his mouth. I sit down next to him at the table in simply just a nightie at eleven in the morning. What can I say?... We were up late. I'm allowed to sleep in every now and then.
"Mhm, get ready, we're going to NEF today." He mumbles, seeming to be back to his normal self.
"We are?" I ask, knitting my brows at him.
"Yeah, now go get ready." He gestures back upstairs, making me nod and get back up.
I get upstairs and quickly change into my usual apparel. A white button up and khakis, knowing fairly well that they'll have me changed and into their clothing line of choice. I'm freshened up and downstairs in no time, just as Mr Bixenman waltzes out the front door. I'm quick to catch the door, walking out behind him and shutting it closed.
"Not gonna lock up?"
"Locks on its own, Sivan." He mutters, unphased of my presence.
He unlocks his car and gets in, me walking around to the passenger's side and slipping in next to him. He starts up the car once we're in, the two of us shutting our doors and buckling in. And like that, we're off.
...
"No, Sivan, don't do that. God, don't do that."
I try my best not to frown or scowl at the photographer, continuously striking poses that don't feel the slightest bit like me. Even after the makeup, fancy clothes, and pretty sceneries, This Doesn't Feel Like Me.
When that half of the shoot is done, I about cry in relief, making my way back to the changing room and stripping myself of the clothes.
"Troye Sivan, is it?" A voice asks, weaving around half naked to completely naked bodies.
Lo and behold, Hari Nef is revealed.
I freeze up, not knowing what to do. Curse that awful Bixenman for leaving me here alone.
"Well?" She asks.
"Oh- yes. Troye Sivan, nice to meet you." I blurt out, holding my hand out.
She shakes it lightly and lets go, "Hari Nef, head of NEF Modelling."
"I know," I grin, oh-so-nervous to even be standing next to her let alone talking to her. "Your face is kinda everywhere."
She looks around obliviously, "Oh, yeah. I suppose you're correct."
"Anyway, I came by to give you a proper welcoming and invite you and your boyfriend out to my yacht this weekend." She offers, swinging her hands around as she sways her hips back and forth.
I quirk a brow up, "Boyfriend? Yacht?"
"Jacob Bixenman, head of Bixenman Inc. Do you not even know who you're dating?" She inquires so nonchalantly, making me want to both hurl everywhere and fall to the floor in a pile of rubbish.
"I- uh, what made you think we're dating?" I ask.
She wiggles her eyebrows at me, "It's the top scandal of 2017, don't you go online?"
"No, and that's-"
"Wanna join me this weekend or not? It's not every day I'm this generous." She cuts me off, making me snap my mouth shut in seconds.
"Uh- sure, thank you." I pip.
She nods, "Alright, I'll call Bix. You're welcome, enjoy the rest of your shoot."
What The-
-
a/n: -heck* three cheers for inconsistent updates from an even more inconsistent girl who is just trying her hardest and loves you very much okay okay okay
YOU ARE READING
sued into submission 🌷 tracob
Fanfiction"troye sivan, you've been served." the man in a black coat says, handing me a folder. i clench my jaw, taking it. "all i did was spill a coffee on the bloke, it's not like i fucked his mother in hindsight."
