Acknowledgements
BetaReaders
MegAnderson,JenBernacki,JimFreihofer,JenHoffman,DestinyImperati,WrenVale
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Thorn
I
checkmywatch,justtomakesureI’mnotwrong.
Butno,it’s12:43PM.
Theagentwhocalledmesaidhewouldmeetmeat12:00PM,thoughit’sapparenthe’snotcoming Thewomanbehindthereceptiondeskkeepsshootingmereassuringsmiles,whichwasoneofthereasonsI’mstaying. Andtheyhavefish
The lobbyis stark, at least bymystandards. Everythingis a confusingmixof blackand white, alternatingstripes onthe walls, mismatched tiles under my feet, the three sofas; black with white pillows, not to mention the metal coffee table supportingalargewhitevasewithblackroses I’mnotsureifthereceptionistwearsblackeveryday,butithelpscompletethe set.
The onlyparts ofthe lobbythataren’tblackare the brightfull-sized portraits ofGodGivenTalents’mostfamous models hangingonthe walls, and a single orange clownfishamongstthe other five blackand whites inthe large tankbythe French windowsthatlookontothestreet
Perchedonthe sofa,Iclutchthe A4hardbackfolder restingonmyknees.It’s supposedtobe myportfoliobut,apartfrom extensiveresearch,Ihavenothingtospeakof.
Compared to the sleekmodels smirkingdownonme fromabove, I’mtiny Eachone is gorgeous, moulded to perfection, while everythingaboutme is simplywide. Forehead, cheeks, neck, shoulders;all the waydownto myfeet. I’ve seenmale modelswiththesamebuild,sametanskin,samecombinationofbrownhairandbrowneyes,anditletsmedream,atleast Iopenthe folder and glance atthe photo ontop. Iused the lastofmysavings to payfor professional photos ofmyselfin variouspolishedposesagainstablackbackground Ireallydidtrymybest,butwithanotherglanceatthepicturesofbeautyon thewalls,itcertainlyfeelslikeit’snotenough.
Eachtimethelobbydoorsslideopen,myheadwhipsfromthefishtanktoseeifit’sthemanwhohadphonedmelastweek. I’vealreadyfoundphotosofhimontheirwebsite,butnowIwonderifhe’seveninthebuilding
IemailedeverymodellingagencyIcouldfindinLondon.EventhelargestonessuchasGodGivenTalent.Consideringmy lackofexperience,Ineverexpectedaresponse
I’mfollowingthelazypathoftheorangeclownfishwhentheglassdoorbesideitopensandaportlymanwalksthrough.His blacksuitmatchesthedecor,asdoesthewhitedressofthewomanbehindhim.
Irecognise himinstantly.Kaito,one ofthe mostinfluential menonthe Londonfashionscene,andthe owner ofGodGiven Talent.HisGreekheritagegrantshimatallphysique,asharpface,andahandsomeolivetingeofhisskinthatsetshimapart fromthejarringstyleoftheroom Withhisphonefastenedtohisearandhisgazefixedontheelevatordoorsdirectlyaheadof him,hehasnoideaI’mhere.
MybloodpicksupasIshiftinmyseat Heartpounding,handstight,Itrackhismovementsashestridespastme Iknow I needtodosomething.Ican'tmissthisopportunity.
Butthe bridge betweenmythoughts and myactions is so wide thatI’mglued to the sofa. The world grows tight, myfeet plasteredtothefloor,toescurlingintheMaganni'sIspentthreemonthssavingfor.
Idipmychin,eyesonthefloor,bitingtheinsideofmylipasthefirsttremorsofcool shamerattlethroughmybody.Ihad enoughconfidencetoenterthebuilding,butI’matmylimitalready AllIcandoiswaitfortheheavyfootstepsbouncingoffthe wallsoftheshininglobbytofade.
Ihadbeenplanningthisforoverayear,steadilyworkingtoreachaplacewhereIcouldactuallymakesomethingofmyself, butit'snouse.Itneveris.
“You.”Iflinchas adeepvoicecovers me,cuttingthroughmydarkspiral as apair ofblackbuffedshoes comeintoview.
Luca
uck,Ihurt.
Andnoteventhegoodol’outsidehurtIbroughtonmyselfbydrinking,snorting,orfuckingwhateverIcouldgetmyhands on No,becauseI’mafuckingidiotandgavemonogamyatry.
Ilastedsixmonths,sixbloodymonthsandthenfoundhiminbedlastnightwithsomecheap-assno-nameboybandmember Andallhecouldsaywas‘sorry’.Hedidn’tevenfuckingtrytogetmetoforgivehim. That’swhatI’mworthnow.
IpressmypalmagainstmymouthasIpushopenthedoortothestudio Themake-upartisthadalreadyhadherwaywithme, butit’sbetterfuckingupmylipsthanruiningmymascarabycrying.
That’sthelasttimeI’mgivingmyhearttoanyone Nomorelove,orgooeywarmshit,orevenfuckingfeelings I’mgoingto bepureicefromnowon.Itdoesn’tmatteriftheshoot’sthemeistropicaljungle.I’mfrozen,insideandout. Whichsounds cool tosay,butitdidn’tmeanshitwhenBlade walks uptome,puts his handonmyelbow andgentlyasks “Howareyou?”withthatsoftlookofconcernthatalwaysgetsme. Heknowsthat’stheworstthinghecanask.
I’mprettysureIlookpermanentlystartled Icouldn’tgetridoftheexpressionthismorning Itdoesn'tmatter how muchI've stuffeddownmypure shockandachingdisappointmentintothe big,emptyhole inside me thatcanonlybefilledwithastranger'scockoractuallove(whichisnevergoingtobeanoptionnow) Bladeisjustsofucking openthatIwanttodumpallmyshitontohimalready.
Iscowlratherthanlettinghimpullmeintothehughesoobviouslywants Thiswastheproblemwithhavingamasseuseasa bestfriend.Alltouchy-feely,andfartoofuckingunderstanding.Nowonderhalftheworldisinlovewithhim. He’s absolutelygorgeous,andthat’s comingfromme.Blonde hair like wheatona summer’s day,porcelainskin,the most crystalcleargreeneyesyou’lleversee There’salwaysbeenarumourwe’rebrothers Hehasanaturalwayabouthimthat’s allsoftnessandlightwhereasI’mjuststraightfuckedup;there’snothingtocompare.
Peoplecan’thelprelaxinginhispresence,andthateasetranslatesintothefinalshots,makinghimtheperfectmodelforany bigcorporationthatwantstoseemopen,friendlyandinnocent.Andthatwasbeforehegotintoacting.
He’snottallorwellbuilt,buthe’ssofuckingprettythatpeoplemeltassoonashesmiles.
We’dbothbeenchildmodels,andraninthesamecircles for years beforewestartedonbigger shoots inmoreglamorous locations.The onlyreasonIdidn'tjoinhimonthe silver screenwas because the longfilmingschedules were toomuchofa commitment Whichjustgoestofuckingshow
Bladegaveitallupyearsagoforhispassioninmassage,thoughhestilltakesonshootswhenhehastheurge.
Ishouldn’thavecalledhimlastnight IshouldhavejustwallowedinmyownmiseryinthehotelroomIgrabbedlastminute insteadofreachingout.Thiswasmyproblem.Icoulddealwithitmyself. That'swhatItoldhim,butwebothknowfromthelasttimesomeonefuckedmeupthatthat'snotwhatIwant. It’sacoincidencethathe’sherethedayaftermybreakup,butit’sarelieftohaveafamiliarfacearound. Hequietlyshifts,strokingmyshoulder.“Youknowyoucanalwaystalkif-” “Yeah,okay”Iliftmyarm,sweepinghimoffofme Hisfacecrumplesashishandslowlydrops,whichonlymakesmefeel moreshit.Regrettingitinstantly,Icasuallyeasemyvoice.“We’reatwork,B.Maybelater,alright?” Bladenods,givingmeoneofhissoulfulgazes Hesighsdelicatelybeforereplyingwithasimple,“Ofcourse,”thatprobably meansmorethanhe’ssaying,butI’mtoowiredtodecipherit. Bladestepsaside,andIfinallygetafullviewofthestudio.
Thorn
I
don’tthinkI’veeverfeltlikethisbefore.
Ididn’trealisethisiswhatmeetingyouridolfeelslike.It’sbothincrediblybizarreanddeeplyunnerving. Becausehe’srightthere Luca Intheflesh Model oftheYear awardwinner threeyearsinarow.HiredasthefaceofMarcJacobschildren'slinewhenhewasonly six-years-old Andhe’sstillfamousfortheoutrageouspinksheerdressheworetohisfirstyearattheMetGalatenyearsago, designedbyVeraWang.
NottomentionamodelI’vebeendrawntosinceIfirstsettheintentiontofullypursuethiscareer.
Andnow he'snoticedme,andstrokedme,andspoketomeinawaythat’slitmybodyonfire Thewhisper ofhisfingers stillburnsonmyskin,likehistouchistheonlycure.
Idon’tunderstandwhat’shappeningtome It’sasifIcan’tnotnoticehim I’mstuckhere,absorbedashebendsandstretches hisbody,thecameramenandothermodelscirclinghimlikeplanetstohissun.
Thedirectorhasplacedmeatthebackofthegroupoftwelve,simplyholdingpalmleavesasifI’matree Shelteredbythe foliagesurroundingtheset,it’sagreatwaytoobservethesceneunfold.
LucaandBladearebothmodelsI’vestudiedintensely.Blade'smodellingstyleismoreethereal,anditshowsinthewayhe glidesaroundtheset,asifhisfeetbarelytouchthefloor He’stheonlyofusdressedinwhite,andhestandsoutmorevividly thanevenLuca.
I'mnotonlydoingthistofindmymum IwouldneverhavetriedtopursuethiscareerifIdidn’thavesomeappreciationfor it.Asiftheyhavecastaspell,everyoneinthestudioiscompletelyconsumedwiththewayLucaandBladesmileandlaugh together Perched ona wide mossyplastic branchthatarches highenoughfor their toes to scrape the floor, theytake centre stage,andtheyknowtheybelongthere.
Blade,farmorefamousthanLuca,wonanAcademyAwardforhisachingromanticportrayalofabroken-heartedman,andit willalwaysbeoneofmyfavouritemovies Hesuddenlyendedhisactingcareerfiveyearsago,andonlyoccasionallymakes publicappearances,usuallywhenLucaisinvolved.Whichexplainswhysomeoftheextrascan’tstopstaringathim,likeI’m doingtoLuca
IfindBlademoredifficulttoemulate.Hisfilmshavebeenastapleofmylifeforatleasttenyears,andtherearethousands ofvideosofbothhisactingandmodellingonline.ThoughIcancopyhisslow,flawlessmovements,it’snotasnaturalformeas Luca’sboldstances.
Lucaridesthecurvedbranch,oneleghangingdownoneachsideashesmirksatBlade.He’swoundhisbrightredhairinto histrademarkbraid,butBlade’shangsfree Likeasheetofsoftsunlight,itslipsoverhisshouldersandpoursdownhisbackas hearcheshisneck,twistshishead,andfeedsthecameraasultryglance.
Iwanttobethere,Lucagracingmewithashiningopensmile,Bladerespondingwithagentlechucklethathasthemreaching foreachother,clearingthespacebetweenthem.
Mymanager, Dylan, spentmonths preparingme for shoots like this. This opportunitycame insuddenlythis morningwhen anothermodelcalledinsick,sowedidn’thavetimetomeet.
AllIneedtodonowis‘looktall’.I’mnotsurehowexactlyIamsupposedtoimproveonwhatI'malreadydoingwhenIcan alreadyclearlyseeovereveryone’sheads Theothermodelsappeartobetakingthesameposesmymanager,Dylan,taughtme, soIsimplycopythem.
The longer the shootgoes on, the more itwears me down After two hours, the lightand sounds are eatinginto mybrain, drainingmetothepointthatall Icandoisnumblyfollow instructions.I’mgivenchancestomove,thoughitappearsmyjob mainlyinvolves holdingleaves either above or around other models as theypose. Myears thud intime withthe music that
pulsesunderneaththeyellingandthebangsandcrashesofequipmentandsetpiecesbeinghauledaroundtheroom,yetnoone elsereacts,soIhavetoassumeit’snormal.
EvenwhenIclenchmyeyes, the vivid stage lights slip behind them, and brightcolours splashatme fromall angles It’s mucheasier to either stand there and listen, or focus onmyposes while inspectingthe set, and occasionallysweptawayby Luca’sbeautifullycalculatedposes
“Okay, Luca, Blade!” Sorenshouts, and Iflinch, startled as his attentionswings our way. “Iwantyoubothto head to the back Therestofyou,Ineedyouinasemi-circlearoundtheset Spreadout”Thedirectorclapshishandsandtheassistants moveforwardtoheavethebranchaway.
FromwhatIcantell,Sorenmostlyworksinfilm,andfocusesonstreamingadvertsforperfumesandhighcouture,andthey arefilmingoneintwoweekstocomplimentthisshoot IfIdowellhere,maybeIcanbeinvolvedinthevideotoo
Thesetiswideenoughforustostandatleastametreapart.IassumetheywanttomakespaceforLucaandBlade,soIstep away
“Notyou!”Sorencalls,pointingathickfingerstraightatme.“Staywhereyouare.”
Ifreeze,thetipsofthepalmleavesI’mholdingagainstmychestquiveringaspeopleglanceatme Everymuscleinmybody pinchedtight,Istand,myramrodneckforcingmetoremainstill.IhopetheleaveshideenoughofmyselfsoIwon’tdrawany moreattention.Theyarethesamedeepgreenasmyshirt,sothere’sachanceIcanblendin.Iwanttobespottedbythecamera, butthatdoesn'tmeanIwanttobejudgedbecauseI'vedonesomethingwrongonmyfirstbigshoot
No one seems to care as the director fires outmore commands. IthinkI’ve managed to getawaywithit, and Ilower the leaves,safelyexposingmyself UntilIscanthesettoseeifanyonehasnoticedandfindLucastaringstraightatme
Myeyeswiden,pullinginaquickgaspashislipscurveintoagrin.Asinglebeatpulsesthroughmyveinsashehopsoffthe largeplasticbranch.Stretchingtohisfull height,rollinghisshouldersandtiltinghisheadlefttoright,all whilefacingme.I don’tneedtohearthecrackofhisneck,itshowsinthepleasurethatdancesacrosshisfaceashislashesflutter.
Andthefeelingreturns.Ipressthestalksofbothleavesintomyhand,droppingthembymythighs.Mynervesfizzleintothe tremorofheadyexcitementthatspunaroundmeearlierwhenhetouchedme
Luca turns to Blade, leaning forward to murmur into his ear, sharing a light secret before Blade leans back and nods, twisting Their attentionsuddenlysnapstome,andInearlythrow thepalmleavesacrossmyfacetostoptheir sharpgazespiercing straightthroughmeasLuca’sshouldersrelax,andhemoves.
Luca’swalkisfamous;I’vestudiedfordays,tryingtofindtherightpace,therightpoisetomatchtheswayofhiships,but hiswalkissouniquelyhimthatthereisnowaytoemulatehisboldconfidence.Icanneverbethesame,becauseLucaknows hownaturallybeautifulheis,andhoweasyitisforhimtocommandaspace
He strides towards me, power oozing fromevery pore. He forces me to stay with his presence, prowling towards me, huntingmeliketheeasypreyIam
Throatdry,there’s nochance tospeakthroughthe violent,tumblingthoughts thattake me over as he approaches.Mycalm facadeshattersandIcramtheleavesbehindmybacksohecan’tseehowtheyshake.
Eachstepechoesinmybody,asifhe’sinsideme,completelywiredtohim Ithastobethebrightlightsorthechaoticsounds ofthesetconfusingme.It’stheonlywaytoexplainwhyeverycellinmybodyisfocusedonhim.
His head notches back, his thick crimson braid tumbling down his chest, running next to his low neckline, only further highlightinghis pale skin.Idon’tknow where tolook.The dipofhis collarbones,the smoothcurve ofhis jaw,the slightest upturnofhisnose,whichonlymakesthegleaminhislightblueeyesevenmorewicked
Iknowhe’sspeaking;Icanseehislipsmoving,buthe’ssnatchedmysenseswithonesmile.Iwanttotouchhim,tostrokehis smoothcheekbones,runmyfingersoverthecurveofhisneckandcuphischinsoIcanbenddownandtastehiskiss.
Onewhisperofhisbreathonmychestandfreshheatblazesthroughme Istepback,blinkinginsurpriseatwhat’shappening tome.It’slikehe’sgrippedmebytheneck,demandingIpullhimcloseandtakehimasmyown.
Deepheartbeatscrowdmyearsashesurroundsme,onedgeatnearnessasheformswordsIcan'thear I’vestudiedsomanyofhisshoots,absorbeddetailsofhimpossiblynooneelsehasnoticed.AndIcan’tprocessthefactthat I’mfinallylookingatthelittledimplecurvingaroundtheleftsideofhismouthashetalks It’sanobsessionforsome;there’s evenanInstagramaccountIfollowdedicatedtoit.
“Isaid.”Hepropshishandsonhiships.“Ihaven’tseenyouaroundbefore.Areyounew?”Luca’svoicesuddenlysnapsinto focus,cuttingthroughmywildthoughts Lights,music,clickingcamerasandshoutingstaff ItallroarsbackinasIjolt,shaking awaymyintensereverie.Istaredownathim,mysmallcapacityforspeechlostasIdrinkhimin.
Thisiswhatbeing‘star-struck’reallyfeelslike
The dimple I’mfascinated with vanishes as his brow furrows instead. Those lips I’ve been admiring twist as his face pinches.
WhatamImeanttosay?Ihaven’tpreparedforthis.Ihaven’tpreparedfor him. Hereachesoutahand,hisfingerpressingstraighttomybreastbone,ridingtheedgebetweenshirtandskin.
likeabenevolentangel,loweringhisarmstomeetmygaze,spreadinghiscalmoverme.I’mnotsurehowhedoesit,butone smilehassoftnessflowsthroughmybody,mytightmusclesbreathingouteverytension.
“There’snothingtobeafraidof,”hesays “We’reallhereforthesamereason” Ishufflemyfeet,mynumbfistsopening.Ididn’tevenrealiseIhadthemclenchedagainstmythighs,bunchingthetightfabric ofmyleggings
Inod,andBlade'sfriendlysmiledeepens,slightcrinklesatthecornersofhiseyesashenodsinreturn.
He'sright Ofcourseheis LucaandBladehavedonethisforsolongitmustbesecondnature,andI’vecomeheretolearn, too.
Iresume mygazing,Blade’s words easingthe whirlwindofmythoughts.Myheadstill pounds,darkness creepingintomy visionwhenever I lose focus As longas I keep admiringthe narrow strip of skinhighlightingLuca’s freckles, I canpush through.EverythingelsefadesawayasIlosemyselfinthespaceIhadenteredbeforewhenIfirstcaughtsightofthem.
Timeslows,likealazyriverwhere,insteadoflightsandnoiseandchaos,it’sjustmyselfandLuca,eventhoughhehasno ideawhathe’sdoingtome.
Ididn’tknowitwaspossibletobesoeasilylostinsomeone I’msureI’mtheonlyonefeelingthisway Maybeit’ssimply themadnessofmyfirstlargeshoot.ButI’msoabsorbedthatallIcanseearehisfreckles.
I want to trace every inch of the ginger dots across his skin. Map their pattern so I can remember themforever, like a pathwayleadingmetohim IhavenoideaifI’llevermeethimagain,andIwantsomewaytopreservethemoment Andthecameraclicksaway,freezingtimeforus,formetopreserve.
“That’sanicelookyouhavethere”Blade’sgentlevoicewrapsaroundmelikeabreeze,andItwistmyneck,flushingasI quicklydartmygaze awayfromhim, onlyto be drawnbackto himas he lets outthe smallesthum. It’s like he understands something,butIcan’timaginewhat.Likehecanseerightthroughme,thatheknowswhatI’mthinking,andthatunnervesme morethanLuca’sattention.
“Whatisit?”Lucasays,twistingagain,hisbackcurvingbeautifullyashewaveshiships.
“Nothing,” Blade replies innocently, throwingme a winkas he lowers his arms His lip drops, as ifhe’s goingto askme something,buthechangeshismind.Asifhe’scurious,buthe’swillingtowait,unlikealmosteveryotherpersonI’vemet. “Alright everyone, you’ve done great!” The director’s voice bounces around us “Thanks so much for holding out there Goodposes,goodshots,agoodtimeallround!”
Irelease a heavybreathas relieffloods me. Now thatI’mnearlyfree, the nausea creeps backin, windingits wayup my chest,hoveringatthebaseofmythroat.Ijustneedtoholdon.
Luca rises, narrowinghis eyes, pursinghis lips atus as his shirtlightlybillows around him. His attentionjumps over me before he scowls deeplyat Blade, thoughBlade simplyshines backwithout a trace ofconcern Maybe it's somethingLuca actuallydoesalot.
MyalreadyfiredupsensesareonhighalertasLucastepscloser,hisfaceastormasheturnsonme Hislightscentoffresh soapsweepsmynoseasIsoftlyinhale,preparingmyselfforwhateverhemaydonext.There’snowayformetosalvagethis. I’veruinedanychanceofconnectingwithhimbyactingsocold.ButI'mnotbraveenoughtosayI’msureI’llcollapseifIdon’t sitdownwithinthenextfiveminutes
Ishouldhavekeptonclutchingmyleavesandtryingto‘looktall’insteadofgettinginvolved. There’sapausebetweenus,hisheadrockingbacktolookupatme Icanseehoweasyitwouldbetopullhimtomychest andslothimundermychin.Fromthisangle,I’msurehewouldfitperfectly.
Hisscowlmorphsintosomethingmuchdeeperashetugshisbottomlipbetweenhisteeth Ifeelstrippedofalltheprotection I’veeverbuiltasheexaminesme,allopportunitiestohidedisappearasthehunterfrombeforecatchesmeagain,trappingme withasultrygrin.
Luca’sattentiononlymakesmyoverstimulatedsenseslessbearable
I’manidiottothinkthatLucawon’tseethephotosofmegazingathim.Ofcoursethey’llsendalltheshotstohim,ofcourse he’llseemeandthewayIcavedthemomenthesteppedinsidethestudio Idon’twanthimtoseethatI’mobsessedwiththe ideaoffallingtomykneesandtearingawayhisleggingssoIcangrabhisassandthrusthiscockdeepintomythroat.
Iwanttobecomeatopmodelandexposemyselftothepublic,tobefeaturedinmagazinesandadverts IfIcanspreadmy imagearoundtheworld,hopefullymymumwillspotmeandcomeback,tocomeandfindme.Butthat’sdifferentfrombeing caughtwateringatthemouthoverathinslipofskin.WhatexpressionwasImakingwhenIwasabsorbedinLuca’sfreckles? Andwouldtheyusetheshotinthefinaladvert?
Thereareotherextras.I’msuretheywouldtakemeupontheofferofaquickfuck,butThornhastotallyspoiledmymood.I sweartoGod,iftheymakemeworkwithhimagain,I’mgoingtolosemyshit. That’sthelasttimeIhitonasilent,broodingtype Especiallyonelikehim
Author's Note
ThankyousomuchforreadingFirstSight!Ihopeyou'veenjoyedthissmallsnapshotintoLucaandThorn'spast.
Youmighthave noticed Luca is slightly harsher thanhe was inAfterglow, but, as we all do, he grew throughoutthe two yearsbeforeAfterglow,andLucayou'llmeetinthenextshortstory,ClosetoHome,hasgrownevenmorebeautifully ClosetoHomeissetfourmonthsafterAfterglow.ThornfeelscomfortableandfinallyworksupthecouragetoinviteLucato hisflat,andbothofthemareincrediblyexcited!It'sverysweetandgooey,andquiteadifferenttonethanFirstSight,andIcan't waitforyoutoreadit!
YoucanfindallthebooksintheseriesonGoodreadsandAmazon
All profits fromeachstoryof'After' will go to the Guide Dogs for the Blind Association, bothKUand directsales!The third storyof'After', PuppyLove, focuses oncute guide dogs intrainingwithcharacters fromthe Trickof the Light series appearingforthefirsttime,andothersreturning.
