“Those hooligans?I don’t know if admire is the right word.”
I scoff.“Sure, sure.Play down the town’s man candy role.”
“You including your brother as man candy?”
I wrinkle my nose.“Ew.Hard pass on that mental image.”Though if I’m being honest, Hunter’s friends are unfairly attractive.Especially the one sitting across from me.
Not helpful, Bailey.
I take the cup Silas offers me and clasp my hands around its warmth.
“So,” Silas begins as I take a seat.He sits in the chair next to me instead of the desk chair, resting one ankle on the opposite knee.“What brings you to my office?Are you looking at buying a house?Oh my god, you’re buying a house, aren’t you?Hunter’s going toflip his shit.”
I roll my eyes.“I’m not buying a house.”
“So, not moving back home.Bummer.”He does look genuinely disappointed, which makes my chest feel warm and gooey.
Ugh.Stop it.This is not why you’re here.
I just need to ask him.Get it over with before I lose my nerve.“I need a favor.I’ve been working toward this for a year, and I’m finally ready, but I need someone I can trust, and that’s you.”
He looks at me with confusion.“Okay...”he draws out.
I fiddle with the zipper of my fleece.Rip the Band-Aid off, Bailey.
“I want to do a photo shoot with you.”That’s the easy part.I keep my voice flat, businesslike.“Before you ask, yes, I’m serious.And yes, I’ll pay your professional rates, plus more if you have to reschedule anything.Because I’ve already reserved the venue.”
He tilts his head.“Like, headshots?”
“No,” I say.“Like a boudoir session.”
Silas
Coffee goes everywhere—literallyeverywhere: up my nose, out my mouth, onto the desk and the blotter, the back of my laptop.Hell, there’s coffee snoton Bailey.
All because she just said the wordboudoirin my office.
I didn’t realize I could coffee-burn the inside of my nose, but you learn something new every day.
Bailey’s up immediately, pulling tissues out of the box on the side cabinet.I’m choking on coffee or spit or, I don’t know, the fact that Hunter’s hot sister just saidboudoirin my office.
She hands me the tissues, and I cover my mouth.Her hand pats my back.“Should I whack harder?That’s just if someone’s actually choking to death, right?”Her eyebrows have drawn together, the V in them deep with concern.
“I’m fine,” I say, but it’s wheezy and anemic.I clear my throat, cough again, and repeat myself.
Bailey looks at me with worry, biting her lip, but I can tell she’s dead serious about this.
I put my head in my hands.Oh my god, this woman is going to kill me.
My water bottle is on my desk, so I reach for it.Bailey’s quiet while I gulp it down, clearing my throat a few more times and testing out my vocal cords.
“Why me?”I croak.There’s more to my question, likewhy not a photographer in New Yorkorwhy not someone who specializes in these types of shoots,but I don’t think I can manage a sentence that long without losing my dignity.
Hell, I guess my dignity is already out the window with the coffee snot.
“I’m glad you asked,” Bailey says and pulls a tablet out of her bag.She’s all business now, like she’s presenting a work proposal.That’s Bailey—whenever she’s nervous or vulnerable, she gets sharp.Efficient.Puts walls up.
I’ve known her long enough to see through it.
