Dark Frame (14 page)

^^^^^

I’m not expecting A.J. to call me.

“
Not good enough,” he tells me. “Not at all.”

“
What?”

“
Honestly, Britain, if you refuse to listen to me, then I’m going to have to pull the whole project from you.”

What the
fuck
? What happened to the artistic license that he promised me? “It was a last minute idea. I thought it would be sexy.”

“
Sexy? It was practically cute!” A.J. cries. “Listen, Britain. I like you. I gave you freedom to do what you want because I thought that you’d like to push yourself.”

“
I am—″

“
You aren’t being edgy enough. My team wants to take EPE to the next level of sexy, but we can’t if you aren’t willing to listen to me.
Give
me edgy.
Give
me sex.”

“
I—alright.”

“
And for the love of God, put Willow and Whitley back together, would you?”

He hangs up on me.

I hold my phone in front of my face and annunciate as slowly as possible, “Fuck. You.”

^^^^^

I haven’t told Evan yet that she and Dallas have to pose together. I can’t. I need some time to think about what I’m going to tell my models what A.J. expects from the magazine now. I don’t even know how to execute it without everyone fucking each other.

The Veda staff has prepared several platters that they change throughout the day for picking at. Breads, deli meat, nuts, fruit, cheeses. I make myself a sandwich and head back to my room to think more, and when I do, there’s a box of tampons with a note attached to it.

“
What the hell,” I murmur, scooping up the note.

I remembered this one last night. Real jackass move on my part.

I laugh into the back of my hand.

I have no sexy innuendo to tack onto the end of this one. Even though vaginas are still awesome.

If you corner me alone tonight, I’ll give you a clue as to why I did it.

Stepping into my room, I eye the pair of black lace panties scrunched up on the end table.

Oh. I’ll find him tonight, alright.

^^^^^

It’s not too hard to follow Jaime back to his room when he heads in after dinner and drinks.

I’m not wearing anything too special for him. Just my best jeans and a black, low-cut tank top. I switched my glasses out for contacts for the first time on this trip, my hair swept to the side in a braid.

Hopefully, it’s enough to do the trick.

He opens the door a few seconds after I knock, already dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. I can see the ripples of his abs through the fabric.

He looks surprised. “Wow. I really wasn’t expecting you to show up.”

“
I’m full of surprises,” I say, sliding between him and the door and strutting into the room.

He scratches his head. “So I guess I owe you a clue now as to why I strung tampons outside your bedroom window.”

I cross my arms and lean back against the bedroom desk. “I believe you do,” I say, keeping a straight face.

He bites down on his full bottom lip, the lip I was biting on yesterday.

“
And please, don’t tell me it’s because you had a crush on me.”

He grins. “It’s not that simple. You see, most teenage boys are total dicks.”

“
I’m aware.”

“
And don’t understand the female body at all.”

“
I’m aware of that too.”

“
You were thirteen, Britain. You were… pretty, and growing up. All of those boys you brought over to your house to go swimming you flirted like hell with.”

I scoff. “Of course. I liked them, hello.”

“
And I was jealous I hadn’t once seen that side of you.”

I open my mouth, but his confession catches me off guard. “You what?”

“
So, I took the most feminine thing I could find in your bathroom and I embarrassed you with it.”

My head is reeling. “That is… wow. So misogynistic.”

“
Tell me about it.” He rubs his hand over his head as he stares at me. “This isn’t an excuse, but no one ever told me how to treat girls when I was a teenager. I thought I was doing alright.”

I laugh in disbelief, shaking my head.

“
And then I had a couple of hard slaps with reality and I learned the truth really damn quick.” He sighs. “Anyway, I’m sorry.”

“
Wow, Jaime.” I inhale deeply, tuggineg on the end of my braid. “That took some guts to tell me the truth.”

He sits on the bed, clasping his hands in between his legs. “You really shouldn’t forgive me.”

“
Probably not.” I quickly change the subject. “So why did you steal my underwear and hang them on the fence?”

He slowly raises a dark eyebrow. “I’m pretty wrung for confessions at the moment.”

I push myself away from the desk, brushing my fingers along the waistband of my jeans. Slowly, I pop the button and unzip my fly.

His jaw drops.

“
I think you made a promise.”

He watches as I slide my jeans past my hips and step out of them, leaving them in a pool on the floor. My heart’s hammering in my chest, but I can’t stop now.

I have to go through with this.

When I reach him, I slide onto his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck. He looks like he’s trying to formulate words, but nothing is leaving that gorgeous mouth of his.

The light of the chandelier catches his eyes, and for the first time, I see how many earthy colors are inside of them.

“
Brit, I… I can’t do this.”

I cock my head. That was the last thing I expected to come out of his mouth.

“
What do you mean?”

“
Cameron would
murder
me.”

Oh,
please.

I don’t say that, exactly, but I know he can read my face. I trace my finger along his soft bottom lip, and he shudders. “Here’s a little lesson in feminism.” He rolls his eyes as if he knows where this is going, but I continue. “I’m twenty-two and completely capable of making my own decisions. I’m also not Cameron’s property. Got it?”

“
Brit…”

I trace my finger down the center of his chest, and his eyes flutter shut. “I’m not asking you to fall in love with me, Jaime.” I lean forward, my nose brushing his. “You’ve been at this game for far too long, and I’m finally showing you that two can play.” When his eyes open, I whisper, “So play with me.”

It’s enough. He cups the back of my neck and pulls my mouth to his. It isn’t like the kiss we shared last night. He’s rough and needy, biting my lip, sliding his tongue into my mouth and tasting me over and over.

His hand slides up my shirt and he softly palms my breast. I release a sharp gasp when his thumb rubs against the fabric covering my nipple.

“
Oh, God,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Oh, God, this can’t be happening.” He cups both of my breasts and looks down at them. “You know, I’ve fantasized about touching you this way.”

I lean into his ear. “I have some clues for you now.” I press a kiss to his neck. “Clues about my fantasies.”

Just like that, I slide off of him, turning to retrieve my pants. When I’ve slipped them on and buttoned them, he says breathlessly, “I give up, Brit. What do I have to do?”

I study him. He looks so helpless, leaning back on his hands, begging me with his eyes, his erection straining against his jeans. I nearly melt into a puddle at the site of him. I’ve never seen him look so desperate. Not in twenty years.

“
You’ll get them with your next apology,” I say, turning on my heel and walking out of his room.

When I’m halfway down the stairs to the second floor, I press my hand to my chest, feeling the thrum of my heart. And then I laugh to myself.

This might be the best idea Evan has ever had.

Chapter Eight

Evan

Every time I return to the house, Britain finds somewhere even more disturbing to shoot.

This time, it’s the gardens.

You wouldn’t normally think gardens to be creepy, now would you? But the Veda gardens are different. First of all, they’re monstrous. The staff here is only hired seasonally, and because the gardens aren’t open to the public, only the outer, visible edges of them are really taken care of.

Once you get in closer to the center of the gardens, they are wild and untamed. The hedges have grown high enough to block out any direct sun in the part of the garden that Britain chose.

Appropriately, the section of the garden we are going to be shooting in has a huge, aged gargoyle statue watching over it. In the center is an old three-tiered fountain, stagnant water covered in algae and moss. The unruly plants are mostly bare, but still make my insides twist when I look at them. The gnarled, spiky vines have dominated the space because they’ve been left unattended for so long.

Dallas and I will be partaking in a gothic-Victorian style shoot. The dress I am wearing mimics the style of the old Victorian dresses, but mine is thinner and entirely made of chiffon, meaning that it’s completely see-through.

And, of course, I am wearing nothing underneath. The only thing that’s keeping me from not being exposed to everyone right now is the jacket I have wrapped around me.

Dallas has it much easier. He is wearing an older rendition of what he wears practically every day—beige pants and a white button-down shirt.

“
Is it weird being naked in front of your ex?” I turn. It’s Ella. We’re both watching as Britain and some of the AA crew set up the portion of the garden—throwing cold buckets of water all over the ground to make everything really muddy.

Oh, joy.

“
No,” I say honestly. “I’m naked in front of everyone always.”

She shrugs. “I know that. It would still bother me, though.”

Being naked in front of Dallas isn’t the issue. It’s being on top of him while I’m naked that is. While the set is undergoing maintenance, Dallas stands next to the gargoyle with the other male models. He keeps his eyes off me as they talk, casually sipping the coffee in his hand.

“
What a douche.”

“
What?” says Ella.

“
What? Nothing.”

“
Is he really a douche or are you just saying that to make yourself feel better?”

“
Shut up, Ella.”

She grins and slyly runs her finger over my arm. “We could always make out again and make him jealous.”

I scoff. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? No, no. They don’t deserve to see that.”

“
Suit yourself,” she says, and struts away.

I turn back to the boys, who stand around the gargoyle like they’re the cool kids in town. Dallas’s eyes catch mine. He stoops to pick up something from behind the gargoyle, then, to my surprise, walks toward me.

He hands me a cup of coffee. “Soy latte. I know you like it warm instead of hot so I waited a bit to give it to you.”

I hesitate before taking the coffee. “Umm… thank you.”

He grins. His eyes are focused on me to the point where I have to look away.

“
Your makeup looks amazing,” he says. He reaches forward like he’s about to tilt my chin to get a better look, and then retracts his hand. “I’ve never seen it like this before.”

The artist told me today that Britain wanted an all-natural look, which is much unlike all of my other shoots from last semester, being that I was still trying to hide who I really was. My makeup was always super dark and gaudy.

“
Your hair, too.”

I roll my eyes.

“
What?”

“
They didn’t do my hair today. Britain said they didn’t need to for some reason.”

He smiles, and I wish he wouldn’t. Oh, I wish he wouldn’t. “Maybe that’s why I like it so much.”

I don’t say anything back to him. I can’t, really. Instead I just drink my coffee—which is made perfectly—until Britain tells me to take off my jacket and walk over to her.

Dallas grabs my coffee for me and I strip off my jacket, walking to the fountain where Britain and a couple of other crew members stand. They all have buckets.

“
Oh, no.”

Britain winces. “Sorry.”

“
Oh, no, no.”

“
Close your eyes and hold your breath. I promise it won’t be too bad.”

“
You suck,” I say before holding my breath and shutting my eyes, but the shock of the cold water surprises me, and I end up gasping and choking.

I can hear the rest of the models cheering and whistling as I’m blinking water out of my eyes. Britain pounds me on the back a bit and says, “You got this, champ.”

The dress was see-through before, but now it looks like I’m wearing nothing but Saran-wrap. Britain has me lie down in the mud for a couple of solo shots, wallowing in the grime like I’m some strange dirt-loving Victorian chick.

“
This shoot is the strangest thing you’ve made me do,” I say amidst her instructions.

“
Shut up and do as I say,” she barks. “Tilt your head to the right. More neck. There.”

Britain’s acting high off of something. Determined and manic. “Okay, you’re naked, but I still want you gothic and sweet all at once. Can you do that?” she says as though her life depends on me nailing this image—an image I know for a fact A.J. won’t even want.

“
I get it. Just shoot the damn pictures,” I tell her.

She doesn’t have me posing solo for long. Thank God, because I’m starting to freeze my ass off and could use a little body heat, even if it is Dallas’s.

The second I think this, I want to take it back, because he starts to walk over and I can’t handle this.
I start to shiver.

He looks almost as determined as Britain, which is terrifying. It’s like he’s asking something from me and I have no idea what.