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I shouldn’t have devoured that steak…and dessert…and that bottle of wine. Jesus, what was I thinking?
To add to my anxiety, I’m surrounded by slender, flawless blondes. It’s intimidating. They strut around with their carefree confidence, and I’m over here spiraling with self-doubt and insecurities. Can we go home now?
“I’ll be lucky to land this, Em.” My voice trembles with nerves, right along with my fingers.
She drops her magical makeup brush. “Luck favors the persistent. We’ve worked hard for this. It’s not about luck. Talent and dedication always win.”
What talent? What dedication? The only dedication I have is repeatedly showing up at gigs and auditions without a single callback.
She adjusts the coverup under my eyes, tossing me a reassuring smile. “We’re going for a natural appeal, because who wears heavy makeup on the beach, right? Your beauty will captivate the camera, I promise.”
“Em, I’m not a skinny blonde. You’re more likely to be chosen than me. Maybe you should go out there instead.”
“Aurora, stop whining. Your unique qualities make you stand out. The industry is evolving, and a diverse representation of beauty is celebrated more than ever. Clients seek models who represent different perspectives and styles. Don’t underestimate yourself.”
I give her a blank expression. “Did you practice that script?”
She sighs and hands me a mirror.
One thing about Emily: she possesses a silver tongue. She’s cunning and charismatic, chewing up wealthy men and spitting them out as if they’re nothing but flavorless bubble gum. With her smile, she could beguile the Pope and have him on his knees, worshiping at her feet.
Every introvert needs an extrovert friend, and she’s mine. As much as I hate it sometimes, I’d never leave the house if it wasn’t for her.
I study my reflection in the mirror. Sharp cheekbones, full, strawberry-pink lips, and dark-lined eyes create a seductive allure.
“Damn, Em. Thank you.”
She gives me a proud smile that matches my own. “See? Now get out there and kick ass.”
I take a deep breath and exhale my insecurities and self-doubt. My name is called, and my body takes control from the anxious girl hiding inside.
With feigned confidence, I step in front of the camera and turn on the charm. I sink to my knees in the wet sand, spread my thighs, arch my back, and gather my hair above my head. The icy water washes over my bare legs, and my nipples pebble.
It’s a rush, a shock to the system, and exhilarating.
Shot after shot, I smile and roll around in the sand and salty ocean. I imagine myself as a sexed-up temptress, seducing a morally gray bad boy I want to fuck me on the beach, spank my ass, and pull my hair.
I lay on my back, rest my arms above my head, and gaze at the camera with lust-filled eyes. Ethan’s face flashes in my mind, an image of the first time he saw me naked. Those intense, stormy eyes, his dirty words, dominant thrusts, and satisfied moans fill my naughty thoughts.
The cameraman moves in, directing me through various poses: arch your neck, tilt your chin, bite your lip, hook your thumbs in your bikini bottoms—each pose becoming more and more erotic. We draw a crowd, and for the first time, I feel empowered.
When we finish, the air is chilly. Goosebumps prickle along my body, and my nipples are hard as diamonds. I’m covered in wet sand, my bikini soaked and transparent, and my hair is a messy tangle of dark waves clinging to my damp skin. My shaky legs struggle to support me to the dressing tent.
“That was absolutely amazing!” Emily bounces up and down with excitement. “You were so sexy. Did you see the cameraman? I swear, he had a boner.”
ELEVEN
ETHAN
“I wanna beupfront to prevent any surprises when I come to coach.” I direct my attention to the league’s fastest skater, who’s moving like a flash of lightning across the ice. “That’s your problem right there.”
All eyes go to Jackson, and the room falls silent. Management fidgets in their seats and exchange uneasy glances. It’s expected. No organization wants to face criticism of their highest-paid player.
I step to the glass surrounding the owner’s box and reiterate my point. “Jackson is not the entire team.” I gesture to the other players. “To build a successfulteam, we need to grow and incorporate the talents of every player, not rely solely on one individual.”
Now it’s my turn to sweat and shift nervously on my feet. I await management’s response, anticipating some acknowledgment or understanding, but nothing comes.
I’m right about this. I know I am. Jackson’s selfish and arrogant behavior toward Aurora prompted me to dive into his career highlights. He treats his teammates similarly. He possesses God-given talent but lacks leadership and respect for others.