“Why not?”
“Because it’s not my— whatever.” She shakes her head, and I feel a sense of satisfaction. We play this game a lot, and it’s never been more clear to me than now that it is, in fact, a game. This back and forth until someone wins and the other is frustrated, only to do it all over again. I guess no one is actually keeping score, so there isn’t an end to it… but it’s fun nonetheless— seeing her all frazzled when she can’t fight back anymore.
I stride over to my side of the sink and splash some water on my face as I unzip the bag of clothes for today.
“Would it kill you to put on some clothes?” Lydia remarks, and I look back over at her currently nearly naked body.
“I’m gonna just ignore the fact that you’re almost naked and take a little trip with you down memory lane. If I remember correctly,” I raise my hands in sarcastic surrender. “And correct me if I’m wrong… you and me, we’re both naked right about,” I take a big step to the center of the bathroom, and she ignores my movements. “Here. Oh, and here,” I point to another area of the bathroom before trailing my finger to the door. “And here, and there.” I finally point to my bed through the open doorway and look back at her gleefully.
She clicks her tongue and shakes her head as she begins to apply her makeup for the day.
“Whatever,” is all she ends up saying, but I can tell something is off, so this is no longer as fun as it was a moment ago. I would rather not ask what’s wrong or what happened because I don’t want the answer to be me. In fact, I want to avoid the true answer at all costs because I can tell I’ve done something, and I can’t deal with this so early in the morning. While I get ready next to her in silence, I continue to trace back the events of last night, trying to figure out what I would have done to sour her attitude towards me.
If I can make it right without her telling me, perhaps I can keep fucking her. That longing and thought alone take me back for a second because I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to fuck someone this badly a second time. Let alone wanted to fuck them more the second time than I did the first. This is dangerous, I’m aware, but I like the danger. The thrill of fucking Lydia Royce is worth it because we seem to both be getting what we want— the best sex of our lives.
When it’s all said and done, and I’ve moved on to bigger and better modeling jobs, I’ll always remember our time.A nice girl--I laugh to myself. More like a very stubborn girl, but a perfect fucking body and even more incredible skill in bed— if that’s even possible.
Lydia looks over at me, almost completely ready. A small grin grows across her lips as she drops her towel. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me, and now I wish she would have been there in the morning, so I could have fucked her once more— maybe twice more. She pulls up this layered dress with flowers crocheted over the top and thin straps. I watch every movement and memorize it because I’ve never been more attracted to someone in my life.
“See you downstairs.” She flips her glossy auburn hair and pads out of the room, closing her door behind her. I let out a breath and grunt a little as I turn back to the mirror to finish getting ready.
I’m wearing a Miu Miu cropped polo with chunky crochet shorts that match Lydia’s. I slide both on and slip on my chunky sandals that were concealed at the bottom of the bag. Before heading out of the bathroom, I make sure to freshen up with my newest cologne, Cape Heartache. Western hemlock, vanilla leaf, and foggy fresh earthy pine, with ever so subtle notes of strawberry and Douglass fir. I’m a sucker for complexities in scents. And this one gets better throughout the day.
After my stomach growls, reminding me to head down to breakfast, I set the bottle down on the counter and saunter through the bathroom door. Then head out of my bedroom and down the hall, where I see people walking to the stairs. I head to the open corridor at the end of the hall and follow the rest of the models. I bet Lydia is with Ainsley already, no doubt gabbing with her about the remarkable night we had together.
The crowd of models moves slowly through the hall and down to the staircase that could fit an entire army in its span. I tread down the marble until I’m at the bottom and pick up my pace a little to see if I can get a spot beside Lydia. Would she even save me a seat? She seemed pretty pissed at me this morning.
I don’t know why I’m even entertaining her fury. Ignoring the behavior will only make her want me more… at least that’s what my older brothers used to tell me growing up. They pretty much raised me. Something that I think affected me more than I ever realized. Maybe that’s why I've never had a steady relationship with a woman or why I believe emotions to be the epitome of weakness.
It’s strange thinking this way. Analyzing everything about myself as I walk alone through the halls to get breakfast. I should be focused on the fact that I’m a Miu Miu model or that I fucked the hottest one of them all— excluding myself— just hours ago. But I can’t focus on anything except the recounting of my childhood. Stuck in my head like being forced to watch a horror film against my will— something I’m very familiar with, having three older brothers to answer to. One of which is long gone, and for the first time since it’s happened, I feel a pang in my chest for his loss.
I grab my chest, ball up my fist and pound it like my heart is broken. I need it to be broken. Need it to stop working, so I can stop thinking about this bullshit. Why am I even thinking about it right now? I almost get the feeling I should tell someone. Not just anyone, though. I want to talk to Lydia.
Fuck.
I make it to the breakfast table, and of course, every spot around Lydia is taken by men. Every spot except for Ainsley. But she’s just as obsessed with Lydia as everyone is when they meet her. And it's mostly because she’s the most anatomically perfect woman. I’m not saying she doesn’t have a great personality or know how to charm her way into any situation— because I’m beginning to think those are superpowers of hers. But people are drawn to intriguing things, and I think she’s beyond that. Worth every ounce of attention in the room until no one is focused on anything but her.
That part, I don’t think she notices. Don’t think she realizes just how great a pull she has on people. I take a seat about five down from her, next to a man I remember from our auditions. He and I posed together a bit; his name's Author, I think. Unique name. It’s why I remember it.
“Morning.” He nods as he cracks a hard-boiled egg in a small cup. I take mine in my hand and do the same.
“Morning.” I nod back, and he grins, his small gray eyes blinking over to Lydia as she tells a story to Ainsley. It’s a private conversation, but for some reason, everyone is interested in it. Even me.
“Well, not really… I said—” Lydia begins, but Ainsley cuts her off.
“You’re not going to spin something, are you, Lydia?”
“Spin something?” Lydia takes a bite of her egg, brows tall. Something tells me this isn’t a good conversation, not going the way either of them intended. Ainsley sighs.
“Well, I’m just saying that if you’d spend half the time modeling as you do talking to men, then you could really be something by now.” Everyone at the table has a visceral reaction to this. I can practically feel the cringe as Lydia slowly turns her head to Ainsley. Her eyes are flaming with anger, and she holds this stare as Ainsley cowers down, probably shoving her foot in her mouth. After a second more of Lydia’s punishing glower, she turns it to a smile— pressed and sarcastic.
“Thank you for your unsolicited advice.” She blinks and stands up from the table, storming off to the inside of the mansion. I have half the brain to go after her, but I fight with myself on what the right choice is.Right, is rather subjective, though… I guess less subjective for someone who lives by a code of law— I don’t. But I do have that feeling in the pit of my stomach that if I go now, I’ll always go after her. And I can’t put myself in that position.
So, despite my better or worse judgment— my judgment, in general, is up for debate— I stay. Sit at the table, eat my food like a random bystander to an awkward encounter, and look out at the ocean just over the hill we’re resting on.
After breakfast, we have a team-building workout. Pretty sure it's gravity ropes on the beach because I saw them setting it up on my way back to my room. I’ve been sitting on my bed, staring out the window like a forlorn idiot. It shouldn’t matter to me, but it does— the way Lydia seemed so furious, but the obviousness of Ainsley’s jealousy. I will say, the emphasis on the wordmen, is playing on a loop in my head.
I'm not stupid enough to believe we are exclusive, but it’s still piquing my interest as to what other men there are in her life. Something like jealousy begins to spark in my chest, and I think it is jealousy. The purely territorial instinct of the San Giovannis. I don’t like it, the feeling or the association. Reminds me of another perk of my one and done rule— never feeling jealousy.