09 | Comfort Zone
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I grab my bag, attempting to pull on one side of my jacket at the same time. When I glance down my phone screen flashes on, time displayed in big, confronting letters.I'm late.
I've never really been a late person but recently time has seemed to slip out of its usual pattern. I'm sleeping through my alarm, spending too much time curled up in my thoughts. I'm just distracted in general.
I've lost sleep staring at the ceiling, wondering whether offering myself up for those photos was the best idea, any sense of confidence I had the other day melted away.
That spirals into getting annoyed at myself.
Why can't I just have a fucking backbone?
So much for not letting that old version of me slip through my weakly plastered cracks.
Being behind a camera has joined my rotation of general worries, beside my mom and her shifts, and the newly introduced issue of Nolan's lingering presence.
When I think of Riley, or photos, or see the house beside me I'm reminded he's here, bound to run into me again.
He irritates me even in my own mind, the single thought of him potentially throwing me a cocky smirk.
I hesitate in the hallway, instinctively wanting to quickly say a hushed goodbye to my sleeping mom but I decide against it. I need to minimise those lateness minutes as much as possible.Mina is going to kill me.
My fingers slide over the door knob, brain flicking back to the present and out of the mess in my head. But when I pull open the door I don't speed-walk towards my car, instead I jump, an involuntary scream falling from my mouth.
"Oh shit, sorry!" Riley winces, throwing her hands up in surrender.
I blink, processing her for a moment.Why the hell is she standing on my doorstep?
"What the hell, Riley? You scared me!" I ramble out, taking in the way her hair is neatly pinned up, dark against the white of her shirt.
An apologetic look crosses her face, "I know, sorry, I really didn't mean to."
"Were you just...?" I sigh, my mind finding the words slowly, "Waiting for me to leave my house?"
She nods, now frowning at me like her just being here is totally normal, "And you're like fifteen minutes late so I got impatient, I was about to come and get you myself."
I scrunch up my face at that unwelcome reminder. Fuck, I'm still late. I don't have time to deal withwhatever this is, I need to go. Now.
But the second I step forward Riley puts her hands out to stop me, a sly grin falling over her lips. It's familiar, one I see when she mentions me and Alex or other similar, childlike scheming. It means she's up to something.
"You're not going to work this morning," She announces, "Don't worry I cleared it all with Mina, got someone to cover your shift."
"Why not? What are you talking about?" As I speak I'm still trying to comprehend it all. It's like my brain is lagging a few steps behind everything else, like I woke up this morning and was thrust into some sort of strange fever dream.
"You're coming with me."
I narrow my eyes, trying to read the sly, fake innocence on her face, "Why?"
Riley just continues to smile, reaching out to grab one of my hands and pulling me out the house with unexpected force. I reach back to shut the door before I'm pulled down the steps and further towards her car.
"Is this some weird prank I don't understand," I ask, "If it is, it's not funny."
"It's not a prank," Riley snorts, "Nothing like that."
I sigh into the air, any more questions feeling pointless to ask. She's clearly set on one of her ideas, one that for some reason involves me.
My hand is finally released and we pause, the shadow of Riley's house looming behind us. I frown at her again, still no inclination of what any of this is about.
"Don't you trust me, Ava?" She asks, and even though she's grinning there's a small change in tone, some sense of seriousness.
I scrunch my nose up a little, "Unfortunately."
"Good," Her voice snaps into a confident whisper, "Then get in the car."
I don't have a chance to argue anything back before she's thrown herself into the driver's seat, leaving me stood on the opposite side like an idiot. Maybe I should be hesitating, shouldn't let her drive me to god knows where with no explanation, but I do trust her - even if she is insane.
I slip myself in next to her, some strong, fruity scent hitting my nose as two crochet cherries dangle from the rear-view mirror. There's been some variation of those cherries since we were teenagers, dice, hearts, stars.
I expect Riley to reveal her mysterious plan to me by the time she's pulled out the driveway but she doesn't, our silence becoming glaringly obvious as she turns onto a busier road, eyes away from me and stuck on the stoplights she's approaching.
"So, are you gonna tell me why you kidnapped me?" I ask eventually.
Her eyes momentarily meet mine before flickering back to the road. There's still a faint smile but her smug scheming face is pretty much gone. It dampens the air, making whatever she's about to say feel a lot heavier.
"I'll tell you..." She says, slowly, "But you have to promisenot tofreak out, okay?"
I'm not sure what this is about but I never assumed I would freak out about it. I don't know if I can guarantee that, either. I stare at her, racking through things this could possibly be about - my mind draws a blank.
"Riley, where are you taking me?" I counter, more sincerity in my voice. There's maybe a small smidge of worry too. Freak out?What's happening?
She sighs, voice weighing in the air for a moment. I can feel the side of my mouth gently clenched in my teeth, that stupid nervous tick that won't seem to go away.
"They loved those photos of you," Riley says, voice gentle.
I freeze, things clicking into place. Of course. I'd been so determined to push all of that away, ignore the thoughts that only seem to successfully torment me at night, that I hadn't even considered this would be about that.
"I told them you'd be up for the shoot on Saturday. I'm taking you to a fitting, they need to take your measurements."
I still don't say anything. What do I say?
They loved the photos. A scenario that I considered but ignored because I didn't want it to be possible. Something in me stammers, pushing me into that weird bubble where I can't decipher my own thoughts.
"Please don't hate me," Riley mumbles, gripping her hands tighter on the wheel, "I just think you need this... but if it's too out of your comfort zone, that's ok."
I think about what it was like the first time, behind Nolan's camera. It wasn't terrible, but it was almost alienating. Do I want to see photos that I find hard to look at? Can I stand there and model without feeling awkward, like I want to shrivel myself into a ball?
But my head aches harder with Riley's words - probably because they're true. I do need this, part of me does anyway. Maybe her making a decision I'd have no confidence to do myself is the push I need. I can't really back out now, I'm trapped.
"Okay..." I manage to say, gathering a few coherent thoughts. This is a good thing I chant in my head, trying to push down the burning swell of insecurity.
"What are they for?" I ask, "The photos?"
"A clothing brand. It'll be an online campaign, it'll run for a month."
"So like social media ads?"
She nods slowly, reading the hesitance in my voice, "It won't reach that far, at least not outside North America. Besides, how many people pay attention to ads on social media anymore?"
I find a small smile tug at my lips, appreciating her attempt to dull down the whole thing.
And maybe it's working. A month? That's not long, and she's right, people will scroll and go about their days.
My face won't be remembered, I won't have to see myself.
That was the main issue anyway right, seeing myself?
"That being said, you will look fucking amazing," Riley adds, her voice resuming a more jokey tone, "They didn't want you on such short notice for no reason."
"Do you think complimenting me will make me forget you literally ambushed me in my own home?" I mutter back, thoughts too muddled to say anything serious.
"See, this is exactly why you need to do this, you don't even believe my compliments! This is officially project remind Ava how hot she is."
I roll my eyes gently, looking out at the open road. It feels too late to say no, back out. Maybe I've conceded to this insane idea because of Riley's persuasion skills or my own changing self finding enough reason too. Maybe it's just the effort it would take to reverse everything.
"So, you're okay with this?" Riley asks after a moment, flashing a smile at me.
"I...I guess," I breathe, "Yeah. I am."
She takes a hand off the wheel, giving me a weirdly affectionate arm shove, "Fuck yeah, I knew you'd do it."
The rest of the drive isn't too long and I recognise the area soon enough.
Riley finds a spot to park her car, continuing to ramble about other life aspects I briefly listen to.
Her moms been baking more and Riley keeps getting into arguments with one of her coworkers.
She's up for a promotion too, partially dependent on this project going well. No pressure.
I've been in the lobby of her building before but never anywhere else.
The tall, baby-blue walls and little receptionist desk are familiar, a vase of flowers standing on the table in the entranceway.
The company logo is splashed about in various places, making it all seem quite sophisticated. I suddenly feel out of place.
"You'll be in some random room," Riley garbles, flicking through information on her phone, "Usually this stuff doesn't happen in the office but with it all being last minute it was easier."
I nod silently. It makes no difference to me. I have no idea what I'm doing. I stare briefly at two men who walk past in suits, talking with serious facial expressions.
"Ok, it's the room at the end of the corridor on the fifth floor. The elevator is just down there," Riley says, pointing and speaking at what feels like a million miles an hour.
"Are you not coming with me?" My voice is quieter than it usually is.
Riley swears under her breath, eyes still on her phone.
"Shit. There's been a small emergency with a client. I really need to go and fix it, you don't mind being here on your own, right? I'll be back before the fitting is over."
I open my mouth a little, unsure what to say. An hour ago I didn't even know I'd agreed to being in this thing, let alone navigating a fitting in a building I don't know without the person who dragged me here. My heart sinks slightly.
"Just take the elevator, that's all, you'll find the room," Riley reassures me, dragging me into a quick half-hug.
"Okay, you go, I'll be fine," I mumble into her shoulder.
She looks appreciative, muttering a thanks before immediately shoving her phone to ear and engaging in what looks like a very stressful conversation. I watch her walk back out the way we came, through those glass double doors.
I guess this is happening.
I wander down over towards the elevators, trying my best to seem somewhat like I'm supposed to be here. Everyone is in business attire and I have on jeans and an oversized, cream sweater. I could probably be wearing a suit and I'd still feel like I stick out like a sore thumb.
When I go to press the button I pause, deterred by the handwritten sign scrawled across it. Out of order.
Shit. What do I do now?
My heart is fluttering harder, something in me wanting to panic.
It's nothing, a small hiccup, but it's like everything is hitting me at once.
I'm by myself, doing something I'm forcing myself to do, now stuck on the first floor.
My brain is hazy, silently battling itself as I stand helplessly frozen.
"Lost?"
I pause at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. It brings the chaos in my head to a halt as I turn to meet it.
It's a man, some sort of a janitor. He has that trademark navy jumpsuit, shoulders covered by his long, dark hair. His eyes are dark too, almost black, face holding a glaring sense of sharpness to it. My gaze catches his name tag. Luke.
"What?" I squeak back, cheeks flushing a little. He knows I stick out, that I'm not supposed to be standing here.
"Are you lost?" He smiles, gesturing to the elevators, "You want me to show you another way up?"
I'm clearly extremely jumpy because despite his hard-set features, the man in front of me seems friendly enough, his smile softening my swirling stomach. He just wants to help, help I actually really need because I am lost.
"Yeah, thank you," I murmur back, mustering a smile.
"The stairs are over that way," He says pointing down the opposite corridor, "Which floor are you headed to?"
"The fifth."
"Oh, you won't want to walk all of that," He says matter-of-factly, waving his hand, "There's a hidden staff elevator round the back, you'retechnically notsupposed to use it as a guest... but I'll make an exception."
I nod politely, aimlessly even, trying to drag myself into reality. Staff elevator. Right. That'll help me get upstairs to the fitting. I can't thank him before he speaks again, eyes narrowed.
"You're a friend of Riley's, right?"
I blink, caught off guard.
"Oh, yeah, you know her?"
He nods, "We're colleagues, friends. I saw her walk in with you."
I don't think I've ever heard Riley mention him before.
"Come on, I'll show you the way," He says, beginning to walk, "I'm headed that way too."
I follow him, trailing behind like a lost puppy.
My eyes catch the white floors, every polished surface, more smartly dressed people having important conversations.
I watch the ends of Luke's hair too, shiny down past his shoulders.
I even catch what looks like a tattoo poking out one of his sleeves as he rolls up the cuff.
When we make it to the elevator I step in beside him, offering an appreciative smile.
"So, how'd you two meet?" He asks as he pushes both the fifth and sixth floor buttons.
I frown, "Sorry?" For some reason I'd expected him to stop talking to me, or at least ask those mundane, small-talk questions about the weather or Christmas coming up.
"You and Riley?" He adds, smiling
Part of me wonders whether he should be asking about that but if he knows Riley it's not really a big deal. He's been nice and the smile across his face only says he's being friendly. I'm too paranoid.
"We've been friends forever, since we were kids," I ramble, "We live next door so it was always sort of inevitable."
Luke hums in understanding beside me, "Nice, so you're pretty close then?"
More than close. There's never been another Riley, another person who seems to be there more than anything else. At times I think she knows me more than I know myself. I don't say any of this to the man beside me, offering a laugh and a nod instead.
The moving elevator purrs with that mechanical noise as the flickering screen moves from one to two to three.
"You close with her brother too?"
I freeze. I was not expecting that question.
Why is this guy asking me about Nolan?
Luke must read the confusion on my face because he immediately tries to justify himself, "I was only asking because he came to pick her up the other day, she spoke about him a bit. Thought you might all be close."
I'm not sure if the air in the elevator has actually tightened or if it's in my head but my clothes have started to weigh a little heavier on my skin. Something about the question felt off, too intrusive maybe?
When my eyes meet him I'm only struck by those harder features, I notice a scar too, from the left corner of his lip down to his chin. He's still smiling but it's lost that warmth, almost like it's rehearsed.
"Uh, no, I'm not really friends with him," I manage to reply.
"Not really?" He pushes, "You must at leastknow each other, you know, living next door and all?"
I don't know what to say, mouth drying up. Luke's eyes seem darker, smile more sinister. Is he closer to me? The walls of the elevator feel tighter, the confined space suddenly more obvious. I'm uncomfortable.
Luckily that fourturns to fiveand the doors creak open, revealing the fifth floor. I practically jump out the elevator, very happy to avoid Luke's questions.
"Bye," I say, mustering up a smile, "And thank you for the help."
His face is flat for a moment, like he's trying to read me. He probably knows I'm being polite out of awkwardness, that his questions were too much. I don't care if he knows Riley, I met him five minutes ago. He doesn't even know Nolan? What business does he have asking about him?
Eventually he smiles slowly, "Anytime."
I then watch as the doors close him back into the metal box.
That was... weird?
God, this day is a fucking fever dream.
I'm now faced with my previous photo-related anxiety and the constant internal battle between my new and old self. The only way my feet are walking, making their way down the long hallway, is because I'm exhausted. I'm tired of second-guessing myself, regretting every decision I make.
I just have to do this.
With a deep breath I approach the room at the end of the hallway, unsure what to expect. I take in a woman, facing away from me at first, but my footsteps soon make her spin around.
"Ava?" She asks, smile laced with professionalism.
"Yes," I reply, shuffling myself a little further through the doorway.
"Great. I'm Honey, I'll take your measurements," She explains, gesturing me over to a piece of paper, "You can write down all your sizes first, then we'll get to everythin' else."
She's tall, around 5'10, with those long, slender limbs that give off some sense of effortless grace.
Glowy brown hair, somewhere between chestnut and ginger is piled on her head in a bun, a green claw clip holding it all together.
Her clothes are almost mismatched, but in a way that seems intentional.
She's gorgeous. Not only that but fashionable, messily put-together.
It makes me feel like even more of a disorganised mess than I already am.
I scrawl down my sizes, listening as honey messes with some of her things behind me. Some strong scent floats in the air too, a mix of something sharp and sweet. I turn back round to hand her the paper.
"Thanks, doll," She says with that accent, "Most people do this sorta stuff online nowadays but I like it physical, makes it feel more real, dontcha think?"
I don't have anything to say so I nod, not that it matters because she immediately ushers me over the other side of the room, various tape-measures in hand.
Her eyes scan my sweater, "Take that off for me, sweetie."
My fingers pull at the bottom, lifting the fabric off to reveal my white top. It clings to my chest, and the curves of my boobs, cutting off a little above my waist, pale skin visible.
"Perfect, I'll start with your bust, then we'll move to chest, waist, hips and all the rest," She explains, already placing a hand on my shoulder, "Sound good?"
"Yeah."
I let her wrap the measuring tape around me, touching the skin beneath my breasts over the fabric of the t-shirt. My brain hums, almost disassociating. I don't think I've formed a single thought since I walked in the room.
"So, you with a local agency?" Honey asks whilst continuing doing her job, "They can be a bit useless, don't always give out the measurements for jobs."
Agency? As in modelling agency?
I shake my head lightly, "Oh, no..."
She frowns, almost laughing, "I guess the bigger ones alsohave the same issues, huh?"
The air stills as she pulls the tape from my skin, moving me slightly before going to measure my chest.
"I'm not with an agency," I mutter, quiet against her loud voice.
"Oh, so you're independent?" There's more thought in her words, "Well, that is impressive. Not many folks doing that nowadays-"
"I'm not independent," I interrupt, pressure overflowing in my brain, "I'm... not a model. This isn't, like, my job or anything."
For the first time since I entered the room her fingers still, "Oh."
Fuck, I made it awkward. My skin thrums, every part of me feeling more out of place. My eyes catch the floor, away from her. I want to sink into the floor.
It's only silent for a beat longer before Honey resumes moving, putting on her sweet voice like nothing happened at all.
"Well, there's a first time for everything, right?" She says, "I'm sure you'll do just fine, doll."
God, I hope so.
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