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I knew my sister would be awake and appreciate seeing everything set up, so I snapped a few shots and texted them to her.
Olivia: It looks awesome! I’m a genius.
I chuckled and texted back.
Hudson: A modest one.
Olivia: Where’s Stella? I want to see how she looks.
I glanced back inside and saw the hair person taking out the rollers while a woman painted more shit on her face.
Hudson: They’re still working on her.
Olivia: Send me some pics once they start! I bet she slays it.
Of course she will. I looked back into the suite again, and my eyes met Stella’s. The corners of her lips curled with the sweetest smile, one she was trying to hold back but couldn’t. I knew, because my face had felt the exact same way most days since I’d met her.
The rest of the morning was chaotic and flew by. Stella looked amazing in the shoot. Just ask good ol’ Phoenix—he’d told her enough times. I understood that photographers needed to encourage their subjects with compliments, coax them out of their shell for the shoot, but there’s a difference between telling someone they’re doing great and look beautiful, and cooing at the model how sexy she looks—while calling her love and baby. Every time he repositioned Stella’s hair or fixed her collar, I watched the fucker like a hawk.
When we broke for lunch, the stylist suggested Stella change so she didn’t get anything on her outfit. She went into the bathroom and came out wearing shorts and a tank top.
“How did I do? It’s not easy to smile for that long. I started to feel like I might look like Joaquin Phoenix as the Joker.”
“Nah. You did great. Maybe Heath Ledger, but not as bad as Joaquin.”
Stella play-smacked my abs. Her back was facing me, so she didn’t notice that Phoenix had taken a seat at a folding table outside on the patio, right on the other side of the sliding glass doors. But I definitely did. Catching her hand, I pulled Stella to me and stroked a piece of hair from her face.
“You’re doing amazing. You look beautiful, and the ads are going to be perfect.”
“You’re just saying that because you want in my pants.”
I slipped two fingers under her chin and tilted her head up. “I’m saying it because it’s the truth. Though I do want in your pants. Kiss me.”
She smiled and pushed up on her tippy toes, pressing her soft lips to mine. I would have preferred to kiss the shit out of her, but I’d do that without a full crew in the next room and out on the patio. When I looked up, my eyes found Phoenix, who had just watched the entire thing. That takes care of that…
The afternoon session went as smoothly as the morning, except the photographer was a hell of a lot more professional. I snapped a few pics of Stella set up with all the props and sent them to my sister. Though the one I took of her leaning over to smell a cluster of purple flowers hanging over the fence when she thought no one was looking? That one was for me.
At three o’clock, the photographer finally called it a day. Everyone started to clean up, and Stella went into the bathroom to get changed again.
Phoenix was disassembling his camera and putting the pieces into a case when he lifted his chin to me. “I got a lot of good stuff. I’ll go through everything and do a touch-up on the ones I think are the best. But I’ll also send you the unedited proofs to go through in case a shot I didn’t pick catches your eye. I know you need it ASAP, so I’ll have everything to you by Monday.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
He snapped his camera case closed. “And…I owe you an apology. I didn’t realize you and Stella…”
I could’ve said it was new or that last night at dinner she hadn’t even agreed to go out with me yet—I could’ve let him off the hook. But instead, I simply said, “Not a problem.”
“Thanks.” He held out his hand. “She seems like a great girl.”
I shook his hand, giving it a squeeze that was firmer than socially acceptable. “Woman. She’s a great woman.”
He held up both hands. “Got it.”
By the time everyone left, it was almost four, and I had a call to make. I needed my laptop for it, which was back in my room.
I took one of Stella’s hands. “You still feel up to going out tonight?”
“Definitely. But I’d like to take a quick shower, if you don’t mind. I feel like I have a mud mask on with all this makeup, and my hair has ten pounds of hairspray.”
“I have that four o’clock call to take. So why don’t you come down to my room whenever you’re ready.”
