“What were you planning?”

“Well, nothing. I thought you were planning something.”

I fall onto the bed. Maybe my bitchiness is justified. “Nope.”

We both sink into an awkward silence. The kind when both of you are pissed because the other is pissed, and there’s a bunch of unanswered whys floating through the air but no one actually wants to voice them because you’re both pussies.

Finally, he mutters, “Goodnight, Evan,” and turns off the lamp.


I sleep pretty restlessly. For one, I don’t know how to fix my silent emotional argument with Dallas. I’m pissed, and technically, he did nothing wrong. And two, I know I’m going to have to put my foot down with Amora Acquisitions tomorrow and stop making Britain perform all of my dirty work for me. She doesn’t deserve that.

I never thought that erotic modeling would become so dramatic. I was never ashamed of showing off my body, and the separation of my work life and school life with the help of an alias kept everything nice and sweet and completely unemotional. But the past couple of months have revealed an entirely different beast. Bringing a boy into the mix, Britain giving up the reigns... posing for EPE has become a complicated ballgame.

That’s why I wanted out.

And I’ll get out. I just need to put my foot down, for both me and Dallas. Even if he says he would still model if he weren’t in the field, the fact is that he is in the field.

We were destined for a life of biology, not a life of porn, for crying out loud.

When I feel Dallas get up in the morning to go shower, I pretend to be sleeping. He leaves the house before I’m up, and when I ask Britain where he went, she looks at me like I’ve grown a horn for a nose.

“Why the hell would I know these things over you?”

I shrug defensively. “You were down here when he left. Just thought I’d ask.” I pull out my phone to text him, but then I put it away. If he really wanted me to know where he was, he’d text me first.

Instead of calling Dallas, I walk outside to the pool and call the Amora Acquisitions headquarters. It takes me about two hours of transfers and holds before I’m finally where I need to be—speaking with one of A.J. Harrison’s assistants.

“Hi… err… my name is Evan Cosette… I’m a model for East Park Exposed.”

I receive silence for a response.

“Ummm… anyways, I’m on the list for the fall launch issue, but I can’t model because I’ll be in the middle of grad school at Harvard.”

“Ooooohh!” she practically hollers. I pull the phone away from my ear. “Rylan Willow! One moment, let me transfer you over.”

“But…” I begin, but it’s too late. I’m already listening to shitty elevator music again.

To my surprise, the shitty elevator music ends abruptly. “This is A.J.”

Oh, damn. Sent straight to the big man on campus. “Hi, A.J. This is Rylan Willow.”

“Rylan.” His voice is silkier than I remember. “I’ve been waiting for you to call.”

I’m about to respond before my mouth snaps shut. He’s been waiting? As in, someone was supposed to relay a message to me and never did, or he’s been waiting because he’s cocky enough to think he has me figured out?

I assume the latter.

I clear my throat and throw on my big-girl voice. “I wanted to fact-check some information with you. My manager informed me that you’re insisting on having both myself and Dallas Whitley participate in the fall shoot.”

He chuckles deeply. “By your manager, I’m assuming you mean Britain.”

I hate the tone of his voice and the way he wields it. It’s like he’s trying to stick me in the dumb little girl box.

“Correct. Britain, my manager, who has been my manager for the past two years.”

“Go on.”

“I’m aware that she specifically relayed the message to your staff that I would no longer be performing for EPE due to grad school at Harvard.”

“I see.”

“Her message was challenged, and I just want to make it crystal clear that Dallas and I will not be a part of the launch issue, nor any issue thereafter.”

Damn, I have a good big-girl voice.

A.J. releases that chuckle again. It’s worse than nails on a chalkboard. “Trust me, it isn’t necessary to reassure me.”

I give silent sigh of relief. “So this was all a misunderstanding, then?” Britain must have blown the whole situation out of proportion. Maybe she just imagined A.J.’s assistant being forceful.

“You will model for me.”

…. Well, fuck.

“Excuse me?” I counter.

“Don’t get me wrong, Miss Willow. I understand your dilemma. I went to grad school too, you know. For a successful individual, a graduate degree is almost necessary, and I very much admire your drive.”

“Thank you,” I murmur awkwardly.

“On the other hand,” he continues. “Grad school bills can be expensive. If you don’t mind me asking, how much have you paid off already?”

I did mind him asking, but I wasn’t about to keep my mouth shut at this point. “I have a semester paid off,” I reply. A semester plus living expenses. And that was from the incredibly successful issue of EPE that I shot with Dallas.

“Do you know what an advance is, Miss Willow?”

Yes, I know what an advance is. I’m not an idiot. “I believe so.”

“And would an advance of fifty grand change your mind?”

I nearly stop breathing. Okay, I do stop breathing until I realize I’m getting dizzy. “Uhh… what?”

“An advance of fifty grand if you sign a contract stating that you’ll be the cover model for the launch issue. You’ll receive the money directly after the Boston photo shoot.”

Fifty grand. Fifty fucking grand. I wouldn’t have to get a loan out for next year. After moments of silence, I finally spew the only words that come to me. “Are you shitting me?”

He laughs again. “No, no. I am not shitting you. This is a testament to how impressed I am with your work. I need you. EPE needs you.”

And now I really don’t have a response. My mouth hangs open as I search for words, but he breaks the silence first.

“This is only for the launch issue. After that, we’ll never bother you again, unless, of course, you want to be bothered. I’ll even have my lawyers write a clause into the contract for you.”

“What about Dallas?”

A.J. responds immediately. “What about him? I’m sure you’ll agree he’s an attractive gentleman, but the photos you took with him are stunning because of you. You created the chemistry between the two of you, I can tell.”

Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

“I’m confident that you’ll give me equally stunning photographs with another male model.”

My stomach lurches. Posing with someone other than Dallas, considering how steamy our shoots got, won’t exactly be a walk in the park.

“How about you think about it tonight, and I’ll give you a call back tomorrow?”

“I… yeah, sure, that sounds good.”

“Wonderful. Nice speaking with you, Rylan.” He hangs up.

Slipping my phone into my pocket, I sit at the edge of the pool and dip my feet in the water for a while. There’s really no way to sort through any of this. Maybe that’s because I already know.

I know I’m going to model for EPE again.

It’s the only logical answer. Fifty grand isn’t exactly chump change for me. It’s a year’s worth of tuition and bills if I live within my means. And signing on for one more issue also means that A.J. and Amora Acquisitions can never harass me to do a shoot again.

When I walk inside, Britain is waiting for me by the counter. It’s like she senses my unease or something. Behind her chunky glasses, she stares at me with huge bug eyes. She holds a spatula above a sizzling pan of bacon and eggs.

Finally, she asks, “You want some?”

I shake my head. “Can’t. I’m vegan again.”

Her jaw drops. “No, Evan. Tell me you didn’t give into him!”

I tell her the reason why. She turns off the stove and starts to laugh. Not really the reaction I was expecting.

“Jesus, Evan. Do you realize what this means?”

I shrug. “If I do the issue, I’m off the hook for the rest of my life.”

Britain shakes her head. “You aren’t going to want to be off the hook for the rest of your life. You know who they pay fifty grand an issue for modeling? No one. Unless you’re famous.”

I dip my fingers carefully into her pan and snap off a crumb of bacon. God, I’m going to miss this stuff. “Your point?”

“My point is your supermodel-status resume. Forget biology, Evan. You know whose dream it is to make a great living off of modeling? Everyone’s. It’s everyone’s dream.”

I sigh. Great, now my best friend is trying to convince me to show off my tits for the rest of my life.

And, like she’s reading my mind again, she says. “And I’m talking real modeling, Evan. Runways and high fashion and crazy hair and bushy eyebrows. Modeling with your clothes on.”

I pop the bacon into my mouth. “Can we see how the launch issue goes before you start planning the rest of my life?” I say as I chew.

She smirks. “Whatever, glam-girl.” She dumps the bacon and eggs onto a plate. “You tell Dallas yet?”

“Of course I didn’t tell Dallas yet. I just found out.” Well that and he’s particularly evasive today, possibly because of our awkward argument last night.

“How do you think he’s gonna react?” Britain asks. “You know, to the whole possibly-dry-humping-other-dudes thing?”

“Honestly, I don’t think he’s going to care.” My answer sparks a weird, enigmatic anger in the pit of my stomach. “We already talked about it. He said he’d be fine modeling with other women. I’m assuming, being that he’s an educated guy and knows a bit about feminism, the reverse would be true, right?”

Wrong.

He comes home in the afternoon. Now it’s day and a half before he’s going to be gone for months. I ask him what he did all day and he tells me that he was at school with Laina, preparing research for their trip. Of course he’d be with Laina two days before he leaves, even though she is the one he’ll be with for the next several months, and I’m not.

This trail of thought is leaves my blood boiling, news of A.J.’s proposal escapes my lips a bit more brazen than I mean for it to.

Dallas’s blue eyes widen, and he takes a step back. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Can you believe it? Fifty grand.”

“You said no, right?”

I laugh cruelly. “No. Of course I didn’t. In case you’ve forgotten how enormous my debt is going to be when I graduate, I need fifty grand like I need air.”

Dallas’s face falls dangerously flat, and he sinks into the desk chair in our room. “You’re modeling for EPE in Boston.”

“Yeah.”

“Without me?”

“Unless you want to fly back from Costa Rica for a quick photographed Bostonian dry hump,” I joke. I can tell by the look on his face that he isn’t amused. “What’s the problem? Yesterday you said you wouldn’t have a problem modeling without me. How is this any different?”

“Yesterday was theoretical.”

I groan in frustration. “Theory is supposed to reflect reality, hello.”

“Well I don’t want my girlfriend erotically posing with some other guy, hello.”

And suddenly the base of the problem slaps me straight in the face. “You don’t trust me.”

His eyes show defeat. “Evan, I never said…”

“You think that you are more loyal than me, even though it was you who cheated on your girlfriend a couple of months ago with a model.”

His eyes flash fire. “You’re not being fair.”

“I’m being plenty fair.” I cross my arms. “I’m doing it, Dallas. It’s my job and I’ve been doing it for years.”

I’ve never seen him look so angry before. “Fine,” he says through gritted teeth. “But when you end up falling for some other guy, I’ll be the first to say that I told you so.”

My heart crumples in on itself, and suddenly I’m no longer angry. I’m hurt. He thinks nothing drives me other than sex. Like I don’t care about what we have and the next guy in line can replace him painlessly.

How have I never seen this ignorance from him before?

His eyes soften, and I don’t know if it’s because he’s about to apologize, but it’s too late. I inhale one slow, shaking breath, and say, “I need you to stay somewhere else tonight.”

He doesn’t argue once. He doesn’t say he’s sorry either.

He says nothing.