“There’s a stylist that’ll help you when we get there. Don’t worry about doing your makeup or anything either. She’ll take care of all of that.”
I gulp. “I’m not sure this is a good idea, River.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not…model material. And no matter how good of an actor you are, you can’t make up for my shortcomings in front of the camera. I’m not Olivia. I’m not as thin as her. I’m not as tall. I’m not as pretty. I’m nothing like her. And no, this isn’t me begging for a compliment or anything. I’m just trying to be honest here, and I don’t want to disappoint you.” I take a deep breath to stop myself from rambling, then wait for him to say something.
But he doesn’t.
He’s silent.
Then he narrows his gaze.
Like I’ve somehow pissed him off, though I have no idea what I did. The intensity radiates off him in waves as he analyzes me from head to toe. I tuck a few strands of hair behind my ear, then drop my gaze to my cereal bowl and nudge a few of the last pieces around in the milk. I can feel him assessing me. Taking me in. Every flaw. Every insecurity. Until I’m left bare.
“Want to know another secret, Reese?” he murmurs in a low voice, finally putting me out of my misery as he breaks the silence and leans closer to me.
I stay quiet but look over at him through my upper lashes.
“There are a lot of different kinds of beauty in the world. From what’s on the inside to outward appearances. From girl-next-door cute to Victoria’s Secret model sexy and everything in between. And no matter how much society is trying to erase those labels, I’ve seen how difficult it can be––especially for women––to remember their worth. It destroyed my mom and turned her into a shell of a human being, all because she wasn’t comfortable in her own skin. And if I’m being honest, those same labels have screwed with me too.”
“How?” I breathe out.
He’s gorgeous.
“They’ve left me terrified of what my future could be if I ever skipped a day at the gym and ate a dozen pizzas instead. I’m far from perfect, and I have my own shit to sort through, but I can tell you right now that you’re fucking gorgeous, Reese Anders.”
My lips part as a quiet gasp escapes me. His attention drops down to my mouth. But he doesn’t move a muscle. With a simple look, he presses against my own little personal bubble until I’m positive it’s going to pop. And the scary part is that I’d be okay if it did. Because whenever I’m around him, I can’t seem to get close enough. Even after our little incident in my bedroom earlier, I can’t help it. I want to get under his skin the same way he’s managed to sneak under mine.
Oblivious to my desires, his deep, gritty voice wreaks havoc on my insides as he adds, “You need to stop comparing yourself to Olivia Porter or any other woman you classify as beautiful. Because they don’t hold a candle compared to you.”
“River…”
“I’m serious, Reese. Want to know why?”
Licking my lips, I whisper, “Why?”
“Because they aren’t you. You’re you. And I can guarantee that when you find a guy who’s worth your time, he’ll be the luckiest bastard in the world.”
“Then why did Ian cheat on me?” I challenge, finally facing my deepest failure and fears head-on. “If he was the luckiest bastard in the world, then why wasn’t I enough?”
“Because he wasn’t worth your time, yet you still gave it to him even though he didn’t deserve it.”
“And how will I know when someone is worth my time?”
He doesn’t answer me, but his breath fans across my cheeks as we both stay frozen in the silence.
Swallowing, I stare at his mouth that’s only a few inches from mine before he pushes himself off the counter to give me some space. Space that I’m not sure I want, though I don’t point it out.
“I’m going to grab my keys and put on some shoes,” he mutters, standing up. “I’ll meet you at the car in a few.”
“O-okay.”
I don’t watch him leave, but the wood creaks under his weight down the hall, then up the stairs as I’m left reeling at our little conversation. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should stop comparing myself to others. Maybe I should stop blaming myself for Ian cheating on me.
And maybe I should figure out if River’s worth my time or not because I’m afraid I’m already giving him too much of it if he doesn’t feel the same way.
19
Reese
“Hey, man. Thanks for still doing this,” River says as he shakes hands with an attractive guy whom I assume is the photographer. “I’m River. Nice to officially meet you.”
With a camera strapped around his neck, a black Beatles T-shirt, and dark jeans, it makes sense. We’re at a small warehouse about an hour away from the house, but the time flew by as we got lost in the music blaring through the speakers. We didn’t talk much because enough was said during breakfast. Or maybe he could tell I wasn’t in the mood to chat after he peeled back a few of my layers to reveal a very insecure girl with trust issues.
And now we’re here, and I’m being scrutinized up and down by River’s friend.
“This is Reese, by the way,” Riv introduces me.
I step forward and take the photographer’s offered hand while my nerves buzz inside of me like bees in a hive.
I cannot believe I’m actually doing this.
“Nice to meet you,” he returns. “I’m Brett.”
“Hi.”
Releasing his grasp on my hand, his reluctant gaze bounces between us. “Look, I’m going to be honest with both of you right now. There’s a very big chance that nothing will come out of today. I’m doing you a favor by even bothering to take the pictures after Olivia bailed. To be honest, if I didn’t have a good relationship with Gina, I wouldn’t even waste our time.”
“I know, man,” River returns, “and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help.”
“Don’t mention it. I’ve seen your work, and I think you’ll do well for this project.” He turns to me. “Do you have any modeling experience?”
“Uh…” I look at River and shrug.
“Just some small stuff,” River jumps in. “But she has a heart of gold and is willing to help me out today.”
“Are you guys sleeping together?” Brett asks point-blank.
Eyes bugging out of my head, I choke out, “Excuse me?”
“Are you, or have you ever in the past, slept with River?”
“What? No. Of course not––”
His mouth ticks up in a half-smile. “Are you okay if he touches you during the photoshoot?”
“T-touches me?”
“Nothing inappropriate. Like your hip, your cheek, your back, that kind of thing. This is a lingerie shoot. We want it to be sexy. Intimate. But it’ll still be tasteful.”
“Oh.” My eyes dart over to Riv. The pleading in his gaze is enough to push over a damn Redwood tree. With a gulp, I mutter, “Uh, yeah. Sure. I mean, whatever you think.”