STELLA/CHRISTIAN
STELLA
I woke up the next morning to rumpled sheets and a stomach full of butterflies, partly because of the shoot and partly because of the faint leather and spice scent in the air.
Christian was gone, but tiny prickles of heat consumed my skin at the sight of the rumpled sheets on his side of the bed.
I knew the villa had one bedroom. The front desk assistant told us so when he’d upgraded us. But the thought of sharing such an intimate space with Christian, even if I’d been passed out for all of it, electrified me in a way it hadn’t the first night we’d shared a bed.
Stop it. It’s just sleep.
I shared beds with my friends all the time when we traveled together. That wasn’t a big deal, so this shouldn’t be either.
Of course, I didn’t want to have sex with my friends, but that was a minor distinction.
I forced my eyes away from the bed and got ready.
Since Delamonte would be providing the clothes and makeup on set, it didn’t take me long to throw on a simple linen dress and tame my hair into something manageable.
When I stepped into the living room, I saw Christian working on the lanai, looking far too stressed for his first morning in Hawaii.
“Good morning.” I stopped next to his table. An empty coffee cup and a half-eaten slice of toast sat next to his laptop along with a a completed crossword puzzle. “You’re up early.”
“I’m working on East Coast time.” He lifted his head, his brow smoothing when he saw me. “Are you ready for the shoot?”
“Yes.” Sort of. Maybe. Probably.
My uncertainty must’ve bled through because his face softened further. “You’ll do great.”
“Thanks.” I twisted my ring around my finger before his words sank in. You’ll do great. “Are you not coming with me?”
“Not today. A work emergency came up.”
“Oh.” Disappointment bloomed in my stomach until I crushed it. Obviously, he wasn’t going to stand around and watch me get my photos taken the entire trip. He had better things to do. “Nothing too bad, I hope.”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” Christian nodded at the room service menu on the table. “Do you want something to eat beforehand? I can call the kitchen.”
“No, I’m already running late.” I also might throw up if I ate anything before the shoot, but I kept that to myself. “I guess, um, I’ll see you later.”
I left, feeling oddly like I was saying goodbye to my boyfriend before a long trip apart. Which was ridiculous, because he wasn’t my boyfriend, and our hotel was only a fifteen-minute walk from the set.
When I arrived, I didn’t recognize anyone except the photographer Ricardo and Delamonte’s fashion director Emmanuelle, who greeted me with a flurry of cheek kisses.
“Stella! How was your flight? You look lovely. We are so excited for the shoot…let’s get you into hair and makeup though, yes? We’re a little behind…”
The ensuing whirlwind of activity was so chaotic it drove all thoughts of Christian out of my head. They shuffled me from hair and makeup to my fitting to my test shots, and by the time the real photoshoot was ready to begin, I couldn’t focus on anything except not screwing up so badly that Delamonte fired me on the spot.
I’m fine. I can do this.
We were shooting a different line every day—resort wear today, shoes and accessories tomorrow, and jewelry the day after that.
I was grateful for the breezy silhouettes because if I had to squeeze myself into anything more fitted, I might pass out right there on the beach.
“Angle your head toward the sun…yes, just like that!” Ricardo shouted. “Perfect!”
Maybe it was the sun and sea breeze or my high from being in Hawaii for the first time. Or maybe it was because I’d shot with Ricardo before and was more comfortable working with him.
Whatever it was, it melted my nerves until I finally relaxed enough to push the ugly, self-doubting voices out of my head.
For the rest of the morning and early afternoon, I turned and posed at Ricardo’s direction. We stopped every now and then for an outfit change, but otherwise, the shoot was seamless.
Emmanuelle was ecstatic.
“You’re doing wonderful!” she gushed during one of our breaks. “Wait till I show Luisa the proofs. She’ll be thrilled…”
I smiled and nodded, but my eyes were busy searching the beach for a flash of dark hair and tanned skin.
Nothing.
Christian had said he couldn’t make it, but I’d hoped…
It doesn’t matter.
I’d see him later. We were sharing a room, for Pete’s sake, and while I wanted him here, I didn’t need him here.
I could do this on my own.
The realization struck me right as Emmanuelle finished talking.
“Don’t you agree?” she stared at me expectantly.
“Yes.” I had no idea what she talking about. “You’re right.”
“Exactly! Plaids for fall are overdone. I’m thinking brushed knitwear…”