Iris Blaire - Dark Frame

“Thank you.”

“I have to clean up,” he says, and makes his way toward the house, alone.

The one good thing about the shoot is that we’ve inspired the other models. So has Britain.

“Think of a story,” she says. “Imagine a romance between you and your partner, and play it out. Like role play.”

The weirdest, albeit still-sexy shoot that takes place today is the vampire shoot with Miguel and Delilah. Not because vampires aren’t seen as sexy, but because of all the fake blood that would instantly be a total turn off for me. Luckily, Delilah isn’t distracted by the gore, and she and Miguel make it work.

I’m only able to catch glimpses of the other shoots as I study in the corner for the rest of the day. Dallas’s presence is not existent—I wonder if he’s hiding out in whatever room he was given. I don’t even know which room he was given.

I decide that attempting to study here, especially as Britain starts the next shoot with Patrick and Jessica powdered up as ethereal ghosts, is next to impossible. So instead, I make my way back to the dorms, hoping that Miles will be in his room. What I really need now is a blissful, chaste distraction of studying, coffee, and maybe a little flirting.

I knock on Miles’s door. He opens it, and I study the book in his hand.

“Thoreau… really? Bleck,” I say before stepping into his room.

“Care for an evening of fine studying?” he asks, sitting on his bed. “Thoreau is the worst to read without a pretty girl right by my side. All of those heavy, illicit sex scenes… so hard to pick through alone.”

“Hardy har,” I say, sitting at his computer chair. But his joke gets me thinking—and not because Thoreau is like, the least sexy read in the history of literature.

“Where are your books?” he asks.

“I… I didn’t bring them. Actually, Miles….” I comb my fingers through my hair nervously. “I’m here to clarify something with you.”

He drops his book. “Sounds intense.”

“You were really joking when you asked if I was a porn star from the East Park magazine, right?”

His eyebrows furrow like he has no idea where I’m going with this. And then he laughs uncomfortably. “Yeah. I’m sorry. Have you been thinking about that all this time? I totally didn’t mean to offend you. I don’t think you’re a slut or anything.”

The word stings like a slap to the face. “Slut. Right.”

“Are you okay, Evan?” The boy does look really concerned. I guess I’m probably not making a whole lot of sense to him.

“Do you think all girls who pose naked are sluts?”

He pauses before answering. He must know it’s a trick question. “Well, maybe not sluts. Maybe they had a rough childhood that lead them to that life. Maybe they have daddy issues.”

I swallow. “You don’t think they’d do it just because they like to?”

“You thinking about posing naked or something, Evan?” He laughs as he tries to pull it off as a joke. “I’d pay money for that magazine.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “You’d pay money for a magazine to look at a bunch of girls you deem as sluts in your head?”

He grows defensive, dropping his book and raising his hands. “Hey, now. They’re the ones who are taking their clothes off. Not me. What’s all this about, anyway?”

“Research,” I answer quickly.

“Biology research?”

“I have to go check out some books from the library, but I’ll be back, okay?”

“Umm… sure, Evan.”

But I don’t come back. I won’t ever come back. I never want to speak to Miles again.

I close his door and lean against the hallway wall, clenching my fists and trying not to cry. Slut . Miles thinks I’m a slut.

This is what I will have to deal with for the rest of my life. Any man who finds out that I used to pose for an erotic magazine, I’ll have to deal with wondering if they label me as a little slut in their head.

I take a couple of deep breaths. This isn’t a problem you need to worry about, Evan.

Calming down, I see that something has been placed outside of my door. I walk toward it and bend down, picking up the harvest-themed bouquet, sniffing the bright yellow blossoms and burnt-orange lilies. Attached is a note:

Down in the quad. –D

My heart skips a beat, followed by a flush of anger, and then confusion. Of course my curiosity won’t allow me to ignore it. I’m secretly desperate to know what he wants. I find a cup of water and leave the flowers in my room, and then hurry downstairs.

Dallas sits on a stone park bench outside of the dorm hall. He’s dressed in jeans and a black pea coat, an ash-colored scarf wrapped around his neck.

I’ve never seen him dressed like this. California doesn’t really allow the opportunity for cold-weather clothing. He looks sexy, and intelligent, and everything I know that he is. Everything that makes me want to slowly unravel that scarf and kiss the hollow of his throat.

Instead, I cross my arms and say, “Don’t you have better things to do than wait out in the cold by a Harvard dorm?”

He smiles. The tip of his nose is red. I wonder how long he’s been waiting.

“We’re going,” he says.

“Where?”

“Back to Boston,” he says. “I figure you haven’t actually given yourself the time to see the sites, and I know the city well enough to give you a tour.”

What the hell does he think he’s doing? I can’t go see the sites of Boston with him, my ex. I need to get over him. And I need to try extra hard, especially after today’s shoot. Spending any amount of time with him will just make things more confusing. He knows that.

“I really have to study,” I tell him.

“Do you have a test tomorrow?” he asks.

“Well, no.”

“Then you don’t have to study.”

Heat bubbles in my chest. “Don’t act like you don’t know how this field is. Because you do. You know how hard I am working here. You know what this means to me.”

His expression stays perfectly cool. “I know exactly what this means to you, but considering that in less than a week I am heading back to Costa Rica for the rest of the year, I figured you’d be willing to give me just a little bit of time.”

“Time for what, exactly?”

His eyes grow soft, and I feel as though he’s looking right into me, seeing all of these fiery, confusing feelings that I still have for him.

And then he says, “Time to prove to you how much I still love you.”

Britain

I would give anything to have Evan at dinner with me when A.J. and four more of his cronies walk into the dining room.

At least Evan would mutter, “What the fuck ?” But the models’ conversations fall to silence so quickly, it’s like someone dead just walked into the room.

“Good evening!” he says brightly. Too brightly. “I hope all of you are looking forward to me overseeing your performances for the rest of your time in this excellent manor.”

I catch Jaime’s gaze. His eyes are wide as he stares at me intensely. No, I didn’t know about this, I try and communicate. And yes, I’m scared shitless .

A.J. being here can’t mean anything remotely good.

While A.J.’s new assistants—all young men dressed in black—sit on the other end of the table and begin serving themselves, A.J.’s eyes find mine, and he hooks his finger, motioning for me to follow him. I take a deep breath and stand, feeling everyone’s gaze as they stare at me.

I follow him out of the dining room and into the foyer, and he shuts the huge double doors behind him so that we’re alone.

“Do you know why I’m here?” he asks. I know he’s attempting to keep the tone of his voice moderately vague, like he’s trying to hide his emotions from me.