Halfway Perfect (12 page)

When I finally give the rack a closer look, I start to weigh the options. There's a varying array of briefs, boxer briefs, and pseudo-banana hammocks with full backs in every color under the sun—black, neon green, pink, yellow, gold, red, navy, bright fuchsia. As the stylist is looking through the rack and sizing me up, probably trying to match my coloring, I'm silently chanting,
boxer
briefs, boxer
briefs
…

He's reaching a hand toward the banana hammock rack and I suck in a breath, trying to look cool with whatever.

But seriously. No one is cool with whatever.

Time to start facing the fact that I'm going to be on a billboard in SoHo with my junk pretty much exposed in bright yellow-and-black drawers. The ads will probably come out just as my mom has gotten over the viral Internet spread of Elana/Alex couple photos followed by the Internet spread of breakup photos (fingers crossed), assuming Wes doesn't actually insist on the fake marriage and kids ordeal. Wait, that part was just in my head. He hadn't actually proposed that.
Proposed
. Bad word choice.

“Nah, not these, they're not relatable enough to the G.P.” the stylist says.

I let out a sigh of relief. But no sooner do I look back up and he has a pair of black briefs with neon-green micro-polka-dots.

“These are perfect. You're ready to be pounced on by the woman of your dreams,” he says.

“Great. Can't wait to…try these suckers on.”

“You'll look amazing, right, Amy?” he says to the woman silently following him. “Amy, write down the description and the style number. I'm going to tell Janessa we're almost ready. Then make sure you get Elana started as soon as she's done with hair and makeup. We're way behind with her already.”

Yep. A dude just told me I'm gonna look amazing in skimpy underwear.

He leaves without waiting for a response and makes his way to set.

Amy looks up long enough to smile and then blindly searches for a robe on the rack before handing it to me. “Might want to put this on too.”

After a quick change and after they've lubed me up with some makeup and self-tanner, I'm off to set. The thing about shooting underwear shots is the light is important. Janessa has two guy assistants as stand-ins testing everything. I resist the urge to go talk to Eve and instead sit down on the couch. I'm not about to ask her out while wearing neon polka dots. That's got failure written all over it.

And I almost did it earlier, right before the stylist interrupted. The timing would have been perfect. Well, perfect if we're not thinking about my current fake relationship.

We would have to make this a low-key date. Somewhere off the beaten path of the paparazzi. Somewhere that appeared innocent, like two coworkers meeting up for coffee or something. Either that or we bring Elana along. But Eve wouldn't want to be photographed with us, I'm sure. Given her history in my world. Plus, Wes would probably flip given
their
history.

As soon as Janessa sees me on the couch, she ushers me over to fill in for one of the assistant stand-in guys. I ditch the robe and feel the awkwardness Richter scale skyrocket. In an attempt to save me from pretending this assistant dude is Elana, Janessa tells him to go adjust one of the other lights in the back of the set. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Eve standing out of Janessa's line of sight. She's trying not to smile, but she's doing it anyway. At my expense. I decide it's time to look the beast in the eye. I wave dramatically at her, like I'm flagging her down.

Janessa follows my wave all the way to Eve, who turns completely scarlet.

“Eve!” Janessa says. “Step in for Daniel. You're closer to Elana's height.”

Her eyes get really big and round, but her voice stays totally even. “Okay.”

Well, this should be interesting. Of course it would be much more interesting if she was also wearing neon polka-dot underwear.

“Guess your time in the spotlight isn't over after all,” I say when she appears in front of me.

“This is not exactly the spotlight, nor do I have any choice in this matter,” she whispers, leaning in close so I get a whiff of her hair and something that smells like cinnamon. “How far along do you think Elana is on hair and makeup?”

I'd already heard from nearly a dozen people during my prep process about how behind they were with Elana. “I'd say we can run through the whole shoot in the time it takes for her to get done.”

Janessa interrupts us by shouting some directions. “Stand a little bit more spaced out and pretend like you're throwing something at the other person.”

“What exactly are we throwing?” I whisper to Eve.

“The designer said something about neon body paint. We had a meeting yesterday. It goes with the whole safari theme. Which is Janessa's thing.”

Janessa cuts in again. “Get really close!”
I
can
totally
do
that. Just give me my pants back
. “Alex, dip her down like you're going to kiss her.”

I love pants. I will never take them for granted again. When I get the fragrance campaign, I'm donating a bunch of money to a pants-related charity.

But in the meantime, I don't have a fragrance campaign and I'm not about to show any signs of fear. Fashion people can smell it a mile away and then ruin my chances.

“You heard the boss lady,” I say to Eve before hooking an arm around her waist and tugging her closer. My fingers brush over a strip of bare skin on her lower back and it sends my pulse racing so fast that I'm sure she can feel my heartbeat. And for a good long second, I don't even care. Let her figure it out if she hasn't already. I hadn't planned on playing hard to get or any other equally frustrating mind games.

I move my hand up to the back of her neck before I lean her backward. My eyes are still locked with hers. I'm fighting the urge to undo her ponytail and run my fingers through her hair.

For the cameras. Of course.

“That looks good. Got everything I needed,” Janessa says. “Eve, do the pose you came up with. Haven't tested the lights for that one yet.”

I pull Eve upright again. Her face is bright pink. “Wow, we're doing an Eve Castle original pose.”

Now she looks embarrassed. Maybe because I called her the wrong name.

“I'm sure this one won't end up on the billboard or anything. Janessa needed a couple more ideas so we could give the designer lots of options. She told me to come up with something weird.”

I take a small step back and hold my arms out. “Okay, well, direct me, then.”

She's lost her ability to make eye contact with me. Quickly, she turns around and holds her hands out above her shoulders. “Come closer.”

I step right behind her, lining up my toes with the heel of her boots.

“Closer,” she says, lowering her voice. I have to move my feet inside of hers to get the front of my body pressed against the back of hers. “Now give me your hands.”

I'm beginning to understand this whole passenger seat metaphor. I think she could keep talking and I would just keep doing. Anything. My hands land in hers and she pulls my arms around her. I throw a sideways glance in Janessa's direction just to see if she's planning on breaking us apart anytime soon. She's got camera pieces on the floor and she appears to be deep into a lens selection session.

“So,” Eve continues. “We need to make our arms twist around each other.”

My right arm is suddenly tangled with her right arm, like a twisty straw. And then she does the same with the left arms. Then she pulls them in to her chest and it's like this mass of arms and hands so intertwined I can barely tell whose is whose. And I have no clue if I'm holding on to her or if she's holding on to me. And I know she can feel my heart pounding against her back because her voice wavers when she speaks again.

“Elana's skin is much darker, so with her, it'll look amazing. Like a chocolate and vanilla twist cone,” she says. “This shot is just for her bikini bottoms. She won't have a top on so we're relying on your arms to cover her up. We're going to cut the image down the middle. Probably do some from the side and then some vertical but just the right half of the body. So we'll get two legs, but your skin tone and hers contrasting, kind of like how the panties come in different colors. It gives that whole ‘anything is possible' subliminal message.” She laughs a little, sounding more comfortable than she did a minute ago.

I'm too distracted, being wrapped around Eve, to really process what she's saying, even though I'm listening to every word. Too much of her body is touching my skin. The good kind of too much.

“I saw Elana's hairstyle,” I say, speaking into Eve's light-brown ponytail. “It's big. She'll end up taller than me. Might look weird with my head hiding behind her?”

“Oh, right.” She shifts her head so it falls onto my shoulder. “Forgot that part. We don't want to be able to see your face in this one. So, can you—”

My eyes are already focused on the skin on the side of Eve's neck, predicting her next direction. I lean down until my ear rests on her shoulder and I'm suddenly wishing her shoulders were bare like Elana's will be. “Like this?”

“Uh-huh.” Her voice catches on the last syllable, when the tip of my nose makes contact with her skin. “Just keep your face out of the picture and look like you're kissing her neck, or you can actually kiss her neck, but I wanted to leave your options open since I know you have issues.”

I laugh against her skin, and since Janessa hasn't told us she's gotten what she needs, I lean in a bit more and touch my mouth to her neck.
She
said
I
had
options, right?

I hear her sharp intake of air, a short gasp that she cuts off immediately, and then instead of stiffening, like I thought she might, I feel her muscles relax against me. I move my mouth a couple of inches and kiss a new patch of skin. There's a lot of surface area to cover. I wish everyone would leave and we could—

Oh shit. Not good
. Remember the tight briefs
. They hide nothing. I draw in a deep breath, squeezing my eyes shut and focusing on the image of my mom staring at a billboard of me in these boy-panties, as she would call them. My rock-solid work mode has obviously shut off.

I'm so not used to this happening.

Eve releases one of my hands, covers her face with her free hand, and starts laughing.
She
knows
.
She
totally
knows
. I press my forehead against her shoulder and keep breathing in. “Ask her if we're done?” I plead with Eve, whispering so quietly I'm not even sure if she heard me.

“Got everything, Janessa?” Eve calls, still covering her face.

“Five seconds,” Janessa says. “Don't move.”

Eve is still laughing, but she surprises me by whispering, “I'm sorry. This is my fault.”

I've pulled my shit together and returned to normal professional Alex so I can finally raise my head from her shoulder. “Yes, this is completely your fault.”

“Done!” Janessa shouts. “I think I'm gonna like that one, Eve.”

We both release each other at the same time and Eve manages to scoop my robe off the floor without hardly moving or bending over. She turns around, tossing it over my shoulders and then tying it in the front.

“Don't want you to get cold,” she says, still laughing.

“Cold would be good.” Some of my makeup has transferred onto her. I rub the side of her neck with my fingertips, trying to remove it. She looks worried, so I give her a smile. “I'm fine now, I swear, momentary lapse of focus. Won't happen again.”

She looks down at her hands. “Sorry.”

New subject. Like now. “I have a question to ask you…”

She steps back and swipes at her own neck, checking for more makeup. “Okay?”

“I won't ask you today. Tomorrow. When I have jeans on.”

She frowns. “Actually, I'm only here in the afternoon tomorrow, with the other models. I have a couple of classes I can't miss, and I think your call time is in the morning.”

A whole day without Eve. Not cool. “Oh, well, then Friday.”

“Friday.” She rushes over to help Janessa, and I decide to step out of the lights for a few minutes and get my act together. As much as I enjoyed being tangled up together, it would probably be better for my career if Daniel did the future stand-in jobs instead of Eve.

“Okay, Alex, Elana is on set,” Janessa says.

I ditch my robe once again, waiting for a hair and makeup touch-up. After it's done, I walk out and Elana is nowhere to be found. Neither is Janessa. I turn to one of the assistants and open my mouth to ask what's going on, but I never finish my sentence. Something smacks me in the chest with a loud
splat
. I look down and neon yellow paint now covers my chest. Then I see topless Elana and her big hair and black panties, followed closely by Janessa. Elana is hurling paint like an Olympic softball pitcher.

“Did you play softball in high school or something?” I ask her. I praise myself silently for thinking to say high school instead of middle school or elementary school.

“Nope. Cricket,” she says with a smile.

As she chucks another glob of paint, I leap out of the way. Janessa is behind the camera now, snapping picture after picture.

Elana's managed to stay almost clean while I'm a complete mess. “I need a bucket to even the odds,” I say, looking around for more paint.

“Janessa said it's time for the girls to carry the big guns,” Elana says.

I shake my head at her, avoiding looking at her bare breasts. “So I've heard.”

Wild intertwining, twisting, jumping, and running ensues while globs of paint are thrown haphazardly around the studio. When I finally get close enough to grab the paint jar with the tip of my finger, Janessa tells us to stop.