Red Hot Rebel - Olivia Hayle Page 0,98
pre-loved book. “Yes, and I’m enjoying it so far.”
“You’ll hate it when you get to—”
“Don’t you dare,” she says, holding up a finger to my lips. “Not again.”
I grin beneath her finger. “I really thought you’d read the other one before.”
“Yes, well, I hadn’t.”
“I’ll be quiet this time,” I promise, sinking down on the couch beside her. She tucks a leg over mine and opens the book again, finding her spot easily. She dog-ears books, and I don’t. One of the many things we’d discussed over the last two months. One of a hundred debates, many started just for the heck of it. More than one had ended passionately.
I reach for my own manuscript, a novel one of my editors had sent along to me. Think this one could be big, she’d written. And so far I’m inclined to agree.
My hand traces lazy circles on Ivy’s leg as we read. Spending weekends like this has become increasingly common, something of a ritual. Wake up late and languorously in bed. Argue about which piece of the morning newspaper we read. Argue over how we take our coffee.
And then read until the sun is high in the sky.
This weekend is different, being back in Paradise Shores, but our routine still holds true.
“I got my first new shoot,” Ivy says, flipping over a page. “Did I tell you?”
I put the manuscript down. “No, you didn’t.”
“Checked my email earlier, and it was there, waiting for me. I’m booked for a toothpaste ad.” To punctuate her words, she shoots me a wide, white-toothed smile.
“Ivy, that’s awesome.” The new agency she’s recently signed with is far smaller than Star Models, but they respect her studies and let her have a say in what she works on.
“You don’t have to lie,” she teases. “I know it’s commercial.”
“Hey, toothpaste needs to be sold. It’s a public good. In fact, the more people you can encourage to buy it, the better.”
She laughs. “Yes, I’m doing people a favor.”
I fit my hand to the crook of her waist, my favorite place to grip. “Congrats, Ivy.”
“Thank you.”
“I want to shoot you one of these days, by the way.”
Her grin flashes again. “Don’t say that when we’re in public.”
“Funny.”
“You shoot me all the time?”
“Not enough. Can’t believe I’m saying this either, but I’d love to shoot you for a big campaign again. Something of our choosing, this time.”
“We can shoot later today, if you want.” The light filtering in through the curtains of Lily’s seaside cottage gilds her blonde hair, natural and tousled, and dances across the freckles on her nose.
“I’d like to photograph you on the sailing boat.” I slide my hand higher, running fingers over her cheek. “The pictures from a few days ago came out really well.”
I’d used my old Canon, with natural grainy texture and a higher contrast ratio. She’d sat in my apartment, on the windowsill, and I’d caught her and New York beyond. Her eyes drift closed as my fingers move to tangle through her hair, loose and wild. “I haven’t told you what I’ve done with the pictures you took of me in Bali.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“I didn’t delete them.”
My fingers still. “No?”
“The USB is in the safety deposit box in my apartment. I looked through all the pictures the other day, after you dropped me off at home.”
“What did you think?”
She tosses the book on the sofa table and swings her legs off my lap. The blanket slips from her body as she dances into the space between the two armchairs. The silken fabric of the slip she’d slept in flows like water over her lithe form.
“And we’re going to do it again, one day.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yes.”
A few clicks on her phone and soft music fills the space. She spins slowly, in front of me, her eyes closing. Every line of her body swaying in tune to the music.
Still watching her, I reach for my old Canon, lying on the sofa table.
A soft smile settles on Ivy’s face as she dances, arms stretched wide and above her head, twirling on the linen rug. It’s easy to see the dancer she could have been.
The model she is.
And the woman she’s becoming.
I take a few pictures of her moving, the calm settling through my body. There’s something about capturing the world on film that has always made sense to me.
“What are we doing today?” she asks, hips flowing from side to side in tune with the music. The easy smile on her face doesn’t falter.