Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
MAX
“So last time we chatted, you discussed your feelings about removing Cari from social media, but also your personal life. How’s that going?” Ben asks.
“I mean, I haven’t thought much about it,” I lie.
I don’t know why I lie, but Ben, of course, sees right through it and raises an eyebrow.
“Fine. I’ve thought about it a lot. But I didn't unblock her either. It just feels harsh, like I know we weren’t great for each other, but did we have to not speak forever? ”
“Well, that’s really something you should be asking yourself, right?”
“I just think she’s great, but she comes on strong, and it’s too much for me to handle at times.” I sigh.
“So you wish for your relationship to be simpler?” Ben asks.
“Yeah. Like, not her personality, but just the fact that everything I did was put under a microscope for a hidden meaning. Like sometimes there isn’t one, sometimes I’m just humming a song because it’s in my head and not because it’s ‘our song’ or some shit,” I grumble.
“Understandable. Is this something you’ve ever discussed with her?”
“Well, no.” I frown.
“So, you were unhappy with the way your relationship was going, yes, it’s still a relationship even if you didn’t label it that, and you didn’t discuss it with your partner? Is there a reason why?”
Sighing, I respond, “I didn’t know how to voice my needs with her. It felt like too much pressure to start something like that. It was much easier just to hook up with her.”
“I see. Do you think now would be the time to discuss it?”
“With her or with you?” I ask, confused.
“With Cari,” He clarifies with a chuckle.
“No. I think it’s better to cut ties and move on.”
“Better or easier?”
“Why can’t it be both?” I counter.
“I just think you might be cutting someone off because it’s easier to leave them before it gets too serious, and they’re the ones to leave. Not that I’m saying Cari is necessarily the best person for you to be with, but it seems to be a pattern in your romantic relationships.”
“A model from work gave me her number last week,” I say, changing the subject. I don’t want to think too hard about what he is saying.
“And are you thinking about seeing her?”
“She’s very beautiful and seems kind.” I shrug.
“Do you think you’re ready to see someone so soon after your relationship with Cari?” he asks.
“I’m not sure this would even be anything, she just gave me her number and said to text her sometime. I thought it might be fun to see someone new, but it sounds like I shouldn’t.”
“You know it’s not up to me to make decisions about your life. But I do think we should discuss it further before you make any moves. Unfortunately, for this week we are out of time. Do you think we can pick it up next week?” he asks.
“Sure.” I nod. Standing, I slip my phone into my back pocket, grab my coat, and leave the office.
It’s getting chillier today, and I definitely need my coat buttoned up and my gloves.
I decide to stop and get a coffee at the shop next door.
I’m thinking about grabbing a bagel when I see none other than Ava walking into the shop.
I glance at myself in the mirror behind the barista, and I’m grateful I don’t have a case of bedhead.
“Hey, are you stalking me?” I joke, appearing in front of Ava. She looks up from her phone and laughs.
“Max! What are you doing here?” She pulls out the AirPods from her ears, tucking them away in their case.
“I was just grabbing some breakfast. What about you?” I ask, noticing her full face of makeup.
“I was on a go see. I got the job, so I’m treating myself to an iced coffee.” She smiles. While I haven’t been present at go see’s, I do know enough about the industry that it’s basically an audition for the model. If she has the right look and poses, she is usually chosen.
“Let me, would you like to sit and have breakfast with me?” I ask.
“Sure.” She smiles, orders first, and I pay for both of us.
Ava grabs us a booth in the back, and I carry our coffees.
I check out her ass because I’m too gay not to.
I probably shouldn’t be doing this, but it’s not like my therapist said not to.
And besides, it’s not like he’d know I was going to run into her right now.
It’s mid-morning, it probably isn’t going to end with her bent over my bed.
Not that it would be the first time that’s happened, but this is innocent.
“So, you live around here?” Ava asks as I sit across from her.
“Now who’s the stalker,” I tease but then add, “Yeah I was walking around and wanted a quick bite.”
“Makes sense. How did the photos come out? It sucks never knowing until they’re literally being plastered everywhere.”
“They came out really good, of course, I’d show you if I could. I actually just sent them to Alec,” I say.
“No worries, I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”
“So what’s the modeling gig for?” I ask curiously, taking a bite of my bagel.
“A hair product. I’m not sure which one, and I’m not allowed to say the brand until the paperwork is filed. But hopefully it should lead to better things.” She smiles, sipping her coffee.
“Do you usually make passes at the photographers you’re with?” I smirk.
“Only if they’re gay and hot.” She winks. “Though I was surprised you didn’t text me.”
“I’ve been busy,” I lie. I didn’t want to explain that my therapist hadn’t given me the green light yet.
“I see.”
“Are you doing any more go sees today?” I ask.
“Yeah, I have one later, but it’s in the city. And then I’m free until tomorrow.”
I know she’s telling me this so I’ll get the hint and ask her out.
And although I get the hint, I don’t ask.
It’s weird. Ava seems nice, and there is nothing obviously wrong with her.
But it also doesn’t feel the way it does with Cari.
That spark, the excitement, is gone. I knew if I spent the night with Ava, we’d have the most boring lesbian sex there is, and she’d probably be a pillow princess.
I’m not in the mood to entertain that. I’m too pent up not having someone on speed dial who knows how to make me cum properly.
I’m almost tempted to unblock Cari just for that, but that wouldn’t be fair.
We aren’t good for each other and I don’t want to entertain her any further.
“Do you normally go with any other models on go sees?” I ask, trying to sway the conversation.
“Uh, sometimes. It depends on whether they want different looks. A lot of my friends are white, so they can’t apply if they’re looking for Black women,” she explains.
“That makes sense.” I nod. But I am barely paying attention anymore; it’s no use trying to feel something.
Ava goes on about how she’s been doing this for a while, so she can usually tell when she’s going to get the job.
How she loves working with me and I’m not like the other photographers.
I appreciate the praise and the reassurance that most of the models I’ve worked with feel safe with me too.
I can’t tell if she’s blowing smoke up my ass or if this is her way of flirting, but either way, it definitely isn’t working for me.
I don’t feel anything beyond a slight attraction for this woman.
It’s depressing to say the least. I am sick and tired of using my hands for a job I want someone else to do.
She is beautiful, but her personality bores me, and I want someone with a little fire in their belly.
Sure, Cari had a bit too much, but isn’t there some kind of middle ground?
I don’t want someone who just agrees with me all the time. That’s boring and not the life I want.
Ava makes a face, and I catch her watching someone taking a video while eating. “Sorry, I just hate influencers,” she mumbles quietly.
“You do?” I don’t know why it feels like a jab in my chest. What the hell does she have against influencers?
“Yeah, so often influencers are taking modeling jobs and it’s only because of their follower count.
It’s ridiculous, I don’t wanna spend twelve hours a day attached to my phone and make posts about everything I do,” Ava says in the most disgusted tone, like someone’s asking her to drink water from the sewer.
“I see.” My tone is more clipped than I mean it to be.
She has a point, before Cari I had the same thoughts about influencers. It’s easy to think they don’t do much and you can’t make a career out of it, but in this day and age, you’d be wrong. Not all of them are like that, and not all of them are attached to their phones.
In fact, I’d argue Cari is one of the least attached people I know. She rarely has her phone in her hand, and if she does, it’s brief.
On the rare occasions she’s on her phone, it’s usually to reply to a brand email, or she has to post at a certain time. More often than not, she was in the present with me.
“It’s just, whatever happened to people having real jobs? Like, how is taking videos of my life a job now? It’s just a joke,” Ava goes on rolling her eyes.
“I mean, that’s not all they do.” I straighten my back, feeling a bit defensive.
“You know I don’t mean you! Photography is a great profession and a lot more than just the click of a button. I just meant, like, those people who claim to be an influencer,” Ava says, thinking she was offending me.
“It’s just not an accurate description. I know someone who’s gotten several hundred-thousand-dollar contracts for their social media accounts and posts. Not everyone is out here like a child taking pictures of their food,” I say sharply.
“Alright, geez.” Ava sighs.
“I should go, I have a photoshoot to get to,” I lie, standing abruptly not waiting for a response.
I head toward home, silently fuming. I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to start with someone new.
Not only was Ava the complete opposite of Cari, but she also made me think about how much I miss her.
I couldn’t sit by and let someone bash her job that I personally saw her work so hard for.
It’s stupid. I know I’m not going to be with her, but I don’t want anyone saying bad things about her either.
My phone lights up with a text from an unrecognizable number. It only says: ‘hey.’
I’m about to ask who it is, thinking maybe it’s a new client, when I see they’re still typing. I usually give clients my email, but once in a while, they’ll find my number somewhere and text me. It’s not my favorite thing but I don’t often know how they are finding my number.
I’m waiting for the person to stop typing when their other message finally pops up: ‘can we talk?’
My stomach is filled with nerves as if the person on the other end is about to tell me they’re pregnant. Which would obviously be impossible. Did Cari really get a new number just so she could text me?
It’s creepy as hell and feels stalkerish. I’m about to block the number when another text from them comes in; this time, my stomach drops as my phone almost falls from my hands: ‘it’s Chelsea.’