"Yes... I know it could be good for my future. But I just don't know if I should. I don't like being the centre of attention."
Isabella spoke quietly into the phone, knowing her parents might've heard her talking down on the offer.
"Bella, you know it would be good for your future. I think you should take the opportunity."
There was a knock on her bedroom door, and she knew what it was about
"Millie, I have to go. I'll talk to you later."
"Goodbye, love."
She smiled at the sound of her British friend.
"Come in!"
Her mother walked into the room, high heels clicking against the hardwood with every step. Shortly after, her father followed.
Both were dressed to the tee, as per usual.
The expensive materials adorned their bodies daily, and it was nothing new for Isabella.
"So, Izzy, have you made your decision yet?"
Her father's soft voice rang through her ears, the nickname that he had given her as a child making her smile.
"I-I think so. But you're sure it won't be a huge deal, right? You know how big these things can get."
Her mother sat gently next to her on the bed, stroking the hair that cascaded over her shoulders.
"We promise. You're only going to be working with one model, and he's a sweetheart. There is nothing to worry about."
Realizing there was no time for debating, she came to a conclusion.
"I'll take the offer."
They both smiled at her with admiration in their eyes.
"Great, Izzy! We'll start tomorrow afternoon."
They left her room, leaving Isabella alone with her thoughts.
Taking the offer to design for a shoot was huge. The label was practically worth millions, and a lot was on the line.
She had her say in the company many times before, but having her name under the designing category was something completely new. Whatever she chose for the models would be photographed, printed, and sold around the world.
But that was why she was reluctant.
She didn't want to be known as 'the rich girl' or someone who everything was handed to.
She wanted to be recognized for who she was, not who she was thought to be.
But it got hard because of who her friends were.
Millie Bobby Brown, television's it girl, was Isabella's best friend. When around the town, people would often point out Millie, and then ask about Isabella.
Hearing the last name triggers an alarm almost; they'd ask her about her parents, or her clothes.
What's it like to be the descendant of Louis Vuitton?
Do you think you could get me some items from there?
Never any questions about her.
It hurt, it really did.
And she would feel a pang of guilt every time she denied a photo.
I'd prefer not to be on the internet,
is what she'd say. She felt insecure, unworthy, not even comparable to her friends. Sure, she had the money, could build up fame, create an empire; but that's not what she wanted.
She wanted to be normal.
Getting up from her bed, she walked to her bathroom. It was late, and there was a lot of work to be done tomorrow.
Looking into the mirror, she started brushing her teeth.
What she wore was quite simple; a Nirvana
t shirt, and a pair of Nike running shorts.
Her parents didn't approve of the things she would normally wear, saying she was 'underdressed' or 'not representing the label'. Although, when her mother wasn't around, her father would say how cool he thought Nirvana was.
Spitting out the toothpaste, she rinsed her mouth and shut the light of the bathroom.
Climbing into bed, she did a final scroll of her Instagram feed.
Her account was private, followed by people from Blake Lively, to Chrissy Teagan.
They all loved her for who she was.
And it was nice to know genuine people.
Tapping on her explore page, there was a photo of an oddly familiar looking curly headed boy.
The caption read,
Flying to LA, working on a secret shoot. Shhh, don't tell anyone.
She thought nothing of it, shutting off her phone and tossing it to the side.
Drifting asleep, her final thoughts were about tomorrow.
She didn't know how big of a deal this would be. How much it would change her world.
