Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
“What? Why?”
“Aren’t you calling to tell me Marlow released me? That Rafe Rodman dropped me? That Boyfriend Material no longer wants to work with me? Maybe Seductive Cologne is backing out too,” I say, spiraling as I name my sponsors.
“Hang on. Where is this coming from?” Josh sounds baffled.
Now I’m confused too. “Because of the . . . picture?”
“That’s why I’m calling,” he says, slowing down to explain. “I’m rushing to a meeting, but those promo shots from the campaign are all over social media today. Everyone is loving them. The You Do You shot. The buzz is incredible, but it’s not just you. It’s all the models. This whole body-positive campaign has tongues wagging.”
That’s why he called? Not over the salacious photo of me sucking Rafe? But the promo ones? “It has?” I ask, just to be sure.
“Yeah, word from influencers—the whole fashion industry—is that this is a very forward-thinking campaign. Everyone’s talking about Rafe’s designs and how the company is embarking on this huge campaign with you and the other models. That you’re going to travel all over Central America next week to take photos. And don’t forget, you still have to shoot another ‘How to do a Thirst Trap’ video for Boyfriend Material. The first one was fire. You are going to be so freaking busy after your mom’s birthday party.”
Now I can read him—he sounds thrilled.
But my head spins with whatever turnaround is happening here, and I have to get to the bottom of it before I board that plane.
“So everything is okay?” I ask.
Josh laughs. “Dude, everything is not okay. Everything is extraordinary. Sales are way up for Rafe Rodman, and the buzz is incredible. You’re gold.”
I sigh, long, deep, and relieved, as if I’ve never let out a breath like this before. “You’re not letting me go then?” I ask, just to be sure.
He laughs. “Why would I?”
I’m so wrapped up in this mystery that I don’t notice anyone behind me until there’s a hand on my shoulder. I jump, spinning around, and stare at the familiar face. Rafe’s eyes blaze into mine, and I gulp.
“I need to talk to you,” he whispers, then glances at his watch.
I didn’t even know he’d be at the airport today. But he’s the only one I want to see. I go on autopilot, telling my agent, “Josh, I need to take off.”
“Yeah, me too, bud. But everything is great,” he assures me.
“Thanks. Good to know.” I hang up without taking my eyes from Rafe. I’m in a trance, hypnotized, but I find my brother, earbuds in, head bopping, seeming happy, and I motion that I’ll join him in a moment.
Rafe guides me into a room nearby and quickly, he shuts the door. It’s a small room, maybe eight by eight feet, with a conference table and uncomfortable-looking chairs.
Once Rafe meets my gaze, though, I don’t see anything else.
“Are you okay?” he asks, with so much compassion that my heart aches.
“I’m still frazzled.” Then I amend that to the truth. “Actually, I’m kind of a wreck.”
He steps closer and smooths my hair. “I was worried you might be.”
“I can barely catch my breath.”
“I texted you,” he says softly, running a thumb over the top of my ear. It’s a caring gesture. And it melts away some of my worries.
“My phone has been lit up all morning. I must have missed it. I freaked out over the picture. I was so sure everyone would figure out it was me on the floor.”
“No one can tell it was you,” he says, calm and certain.
“Are you sure?”
He nods decisively. “Positive. Look for yourself.” He pulls his phone from his pants pocket and clicks on the photo of him. “You can’t see the other person. It’s all my face.”
God, Rafe looks so . . . blissed-out.
I look at the image with fresh eyes, and he’s right. It’s all Rafe. His eyes are squeezed shut, his lips fallen open, and his face twisted, on the brink of exquisite agony. His hands are clearly on the top of a man’s head, but that’s it. You can’t even see the color of the man’s hair or the shape of his shoulders. That’s all.
When I saw the snap this morning, my panicking mind filled in everything I knew was there. Now that I look at it again, I see the picture tells only a sliver of a story. The rest is only for Rafe and me to know.
I’m unseen. I’m unidentifiable. And he made sure of it when he swapped our positions last night.
“But what about you? Aren’t you worried? Everyone can see it’s you. Your name is all over social media.”
A small smile shifts his lips. “And I don’t care.”
“You don’t?”
“There’s more buzz about the campaign than there is this photo.” Rafe shakes his head. “And besides, what I care about is you.” He runs a hand through my hair, and I want to sigh and step into his arms. “I told you I would look after you, Gunnar. All our trysts were designed to protect you. I wanted you to explore everything you were starting to feel and to do it safely,” he tells me.