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If Finn starts taking other jobs and shooting less for our account, what does that mean for me? What do I even have, professionally speaking, without this? I never even dared to fantasize that one day, I might write for living, until Finn came along. But the truth is, that dream is smoke and mirrors. I haven’t actually written anything in months, nothing worth sharing, at least. What if this is it for me, but for Finn, it’s just the beginning?
“Don’t cancel it,” I say. No matter how low I feel, I would never ask Finn to jeopardize his success for me. “I trust you, and this isn’t about her—it’s about us.”
He rubs his thumb over the corner of my mouth. “Tell me more about that.”
“I want more for us. I want to quit my job and be with you all the time.” At the beginning of our relationship, I might’ve been embarrassed to admit that, but now? I know Finn loves hearing my stalker-ish thoughts.
He steps even closer to me, running a hand down to the seat of my overalls. He pulls me against him. “All the time, huh? And you’re not worried about the ramifications of hourly sex?”
I arch an eyebrow at him. “The ramifications?”
He shifts, pinning my hips to the counter with his. “You’ll have to help me with these overalls . . . unless there’s some secret flap down there for easy access.”
I get a coat of goosebumps but try to focus on the task at hand. “Imagine it,” I tell him. “You don’t have to take any more shit jobs photographing spoiled brats. I don’t have to leave our bed at seven in the morning.” I slip my hand into the waist of his jeans, trailing my finger along his hip. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “We sleep in. We shoot a new photo or two every day. I sit at the window and write while you edit. We cook breakfast . . . for dinner.”
He groans.
Without bothering to undo his pants, I squeeze my hand into his underwear and take him in my fist. “We make love whenever, wherever. That’s our life. If we can build this business even bigger.”
Finn assaults my mouth with a hungry kiss.
I have my answer. He wants me, he chooses me—for now. If I can bring new life into our work, I’ll buy myself a little more time. As long as our follower count goes up, so does Finn’s career. But I’ll still be here where I started. If I don’t find a way to keep up, I risk getting left behind.
28
It’s not until I’ve hung up my jacket and emptied my pockets in the foyer that I hear voices. Specifically, one voice. And it’s much too deep to be Halston’s. I head to the studio.
Halston swivels in my office chair when I enter. She brightens with a smile. “There you are.”
I put down my camera bag. “I thought we were doing this at seven.”
“No, I told you six.” She comes over to me, links an arm around my waist, and gestures to the couch. “Finn, this is Ken.”
Ken King—supposedly his real name—sets a steaming mug on the side table and stands to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m looking forward to this.”
Looking forward to touching my girlfriend—I’m sure he is. Halston found him on Facebook, a friend of a friend and a working model with a similar build to mine. He’s even got some light brown scruff. I touch my jaw and look down at Halston. “Can I talk to you?”
“Sure.” Her breath smells like coffee. She smiles at Ken. “Excuse us.”
I lead her out with a hand on her upper back, shooting Ken a glance on the way. I close the studio door once we’re in the hallway. “He’s been here since six?”
“Just about.”
“And you let him in? You should’ve waited for me.”
“He would’ve been standing in the hall for half an hour.”
“I don’t care. He’s a stranger, and you were alone in the apartment with him. Not just a stranger, but one who knows he’s here to take provocative photos with you.”
“Finn.”
I don’t care that she did the same thing with me. Or that Ken is supposedly a nice guy who regularly poses for NYU’s art department. Or that Halston trusts the friend who recommended him. I’ve been trying, and failing, to wrap my head around this for days. When Halston suggested another model, I wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but I’m the one encouraging her to be in control of her life. This project is more important to her than I ever imagined it would be.
Now that he’s here, I want to call it off. He’s ripped. Handsome, in an obvious sort of way. I guess he would be, since he’s a model. I’ve been trying not to wonder whether bringing a third person into the apartment has anything to do with what I read in her “dark” journal. “I’m serious, Hals. You should’ve waited for me.”
“Finn, he’s gay.” She arches an eyebrow at me. “He was telling me about a trip to Barcelona with his boyfriend when you came in.”
It’s then that I realize my shoulders are at my ears. I lower them. This night just did a one-eighty. Though I’m relieved, I try to play it cool. “Still. You didn’t know that when you let him in.”
She half rolls her eyes. “He already signed the release.”
“And the NDA?”
She folds her arms behind her back. “Not yet. I thought it felt a little extreme.”
“That’s why I was supposed to meet him first. Now, he knows who you are without any reason to stay quiet.”
“Is that so bad?” she asks quietly.
“What about all that stuff with the tabloids? And your dad finding out? You still want to remain anonymous, right?”
She shifts feet. “Yes.”
“Then he’ll sign it.” I return to the studio and pull the slip from underneath the model release. I nod at Ken. “Would you mind signing this too?”
Ken stands from the couch and picks up the paper. “Non-disclosure agreement?” he asks. “For what?”
“Halston explained her situation, right? If you have mutual friends—”
“We talked all about it. I’m going to tell my friend Halston was looking for a model for work.” I just look at him until he picks up the pen and adds, “But sure. Not a problem.”
I don’t even want to think of how Halston would react if her identity were revealed. Now that I know her better, I see why it’s important to separate these identities. As long as she’s anonymous, there’s still a shield between the public and her. If insults about her work hurt now, they’ll be even worse if she removes that final barrier.
“Did you get to look through the account?” I ask as I head to set up the equipment. “Get a feel for what we post?”
“I did, and I love it,” he says. “I follow a lot of photographers and models because of what I do, but I haven’t seen anything like this. Especially with the captions.”
“We love it,” Halston says. “We’re hoping these photos will get us to a hundred-thousand followers. We’re not too far, and we still have twelve days left.”
“What’s in twelve days?” Ken asks.
I’ve been wondering the same thing. When Halston asked me to pick a date, I indulged her. I hadn’t thought she’d be religious about it. Every day she writes our follower count in a journal, biting her lip as she calculates and then announces the difference to our goal.
“Finn’s birthday,” she answers. “And that’s the present I want to give him. One hundred K.”
I nod Ken over. “Let me get a few test shots.”
He walks in front of the camera, and I direct him around the space. His white button-down is stark against the room’s smoky-gray walls. “We’re going for sexy, but in a suggestive, subtle way.” I turn to Halston, who’s standing a couple feet behind me, her thumbnail between her teeth. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.” She doesn’t move. She has on a black, short-sleeved t-shirt and ripped jeans. I asked her not to dress sexy this time around, promised I’d still make her look good, even if she opted for a Mumu. That’s my job. My eyes go to her red and patchy inner elbow.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “We can still call it off.”
She co
vers it when she catches me looking, then passes to get in position. Once they’re in front of the camera, I play with the lighting. When I turn around, they both stare at me. “What?”
“What should we do?” Halston asks.
Right. I’m supposed to instruct Ken on how to touch my girlfriend. For a second, I don’t think I can do it, even if he is gay. We could switch places. Nobody would ever have to know I didn’t take the picture. Except me. This is my work. My first love, even before Marissa came along. Having another man behind the camera is about as bad as watching him with Halston.
I wipe my forehead on my sleeve. “All right. This photo’ll be about domination. Your strength, Ken, versus her fragility.”
“Oh. We’re jumping right in then,” Halston says with a nervous smile.
