AUDREY
‘ G OD , MY FOLDERS ARE A MESS ,’ I MOGENE MURMURS , FROWNING as she swipes at her tablet. ‘I swear they’re here somewhere. And they’re stunning, of course. Your hair looks amazing.’
‘Thank you,’ I reply, wiping my clammy hands on my jeans as I shift in one of the shell-shaped chairs opposite her desk. She asked me to come by her office this morning to look over the photos from the shoot with Julian, which she’s clearly already seen and doesn’t have a problem with. I guess that means there isn’t one.
‘Ah! Got them!’ she suddenly exclaims. ‘Here you go.’
She hands me the tablet and I take it from her with both hands, forcing myself to breathe evenly.
‘We could probably use one as your new headshot.’
‘Uh-huh,’ I say, swiping through them. I can’t tell if they’re any good. I don’t really care. I just want to see the last ones, to prove to myself that they’re nowhere near as awful as I’ve built them up to be in my head. But then I reach a point where it won’t let me swipe any more, and …
‘Is this all of them?’ I ask.
‘All the ones Julian sent over. Why?’
Because I’m wearing a top in all of these.
‘No reason,’ I say quickly.
Imogene laughs. ‘You’re your own harshest critic. Julian said that you were a joy to work with. A total star.’
‘He did?’
‘Of course! You and Marika, both. And …’ She pauses for emphasis, tapping her long, beautifully painted nails against her desk in an approximation of a drumroll.
‘The campaign shoots tomorrow!’ she concludes brightly. ‘Isn’t that exciting?’
‘Oh – wow!’ I manage. ‘So soon?’
‘ “So soon?” ’ She laughs. ‘I would have thought you’d be dying to get started.’
‘I am! I am. I just …’ I trail off, grasping for an excuse to justify my hesitation.
Imogene leans forward, meets my eye. ‘I get it. But, Audrey, there is no need to be nervous,’ she says seriously. ‘I promise.’
And I can tell that she really believes that. I only wish that I could too.
I’m hit by a wave of dizziness almost as soon as I step outside the AVW offices, collapsing on to a bench with wobbling legs. I focus on breathing, on staying calm, on convincing myself that it’s a good thing that the shoot is so soon. By the time that the campaign comes out, the whole thing’ll probably feel like a bad dream. There’ll have been loads more shoots by then – maybe even another campaign. This is just a blip, in the grand scheme of things. I’m sure in five years’ time I’ll barely remember any of this.
Today, though, I can’t stop myself from thinking about those missing photos. It sounds twisted, but a part of me wishes that they’d been there – I guess I figured that if Imogene had seen them and acted like it was normal, then it would be. On the other hand, maybe them being missing means that Julian realised that he did a fucked-up thing and deleted them.
Or maybe I’m just deluding myself. Either way, I can’t obsess over something that’s so totally out of my control. Marika’s already noticed me acting strangely, and Ezra – Ezra probably thinks I’m just fundamentally unstable, now. I don’t blame him – even yesterday, when I was trying to save face after the party, he made this offhand comment about coincidence, and I reacted like he’d dumped a bucket of cold water on my head. Just – all I could think about was Julian telling me that he didn’t believe in coincidence. That he preferred ‘serendipity’, so by that logic what happened in that studio was always meant to—
‘ Audrey .’
I look up with a jolt. Marika is standing right in front of me, eyebrows raised. I tug off my headphones, attempting a smile.
‘I said your name, like, four times,’ she says seriously, pushing her sunglasses back against her hair. ‘You need to turn your music down. Or get worse headphones.’
‘I know,’ I say quickly, though I wasn’t actually listening to anything. ‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise,’ she says, taking a seat beside me. ‘Just – it’s not safe, you know? Especially in a city. Situational awareness matters.’
I blink at her. ‘Right,’ I manage finally. ‘I mean – you’re right. I zoned out. Guess I’m tired.’
‘Same,’ she says, which I’d figured – she was out again last night, and messaged that I shouldn’t expect her back before morning. She’s wearing the outfit that was laid out on her bunk when I left the apartment, though, flared jeans and a cropped grey sweatshirt. We must have just missed each other.
‘Did you … have fun?’ I venture.
‘Uh-huh. It was low-key. Just dinner and a movie at Nicole’s place.’
‘Sounds nice.’ I smile, relieved. I had assumed she was with Nicole, but if it hadn’t been for that accidental run-in yesterday morning, I wouldn’t even know that Nicole exists – not in this context, anyway, hence my wariness to overstep.
‘It was,’ Marika says mildly. ‘Nicole’s great. And – I just wanted you to know that the only reason I didn’t tell you about her was because I didn’t realise it was going to matter this much. I mean – I thought I’d be here for a week. I wasn’t looking to make friends. I definitely wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, but now here I am with a friend and – not a girlfriend, but something like it.’
‘Oh,’ I say, pretending that my heart didn’t just grow three sizes at Marika calling me her friend. ‘Well – that makes sense, I guess, but I’m really happy for you. Nicole – she was super sweet to me at the Miranda Browning show. She seems like a genuinely cool person.’
‘She is,’ Marika says, her features softening momentarily before she glances up at the clouds. ‘And Ezra – he’s growing on me, I suppose. It’s cute how much he likes you.’
‘Oh, uh – he probably doesn’t,’ I say, letting out an embarrassed huff of laughter. ‘Not any more, anyway.’
‘I thought you spent the night at his place?’ she asks, head snapping back towards me.
‘Only because I got too drunk. I puked – he let me take a shower and sleep in his bed. He took the sofa, so – yeah. Nothing to report.’
‘Oh.’ She frowns. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Fine,’ I say quickly. ‘Just overdid it. Got a bit weepy. Nothing dramatic.’
‘Well – that was gallant of him, I suppose.’
‘Yeah. He’s just like that, I think.’
‘Hm. Want some unsolicited advice?’
‘Um … sure,’ I say, and Marika angles her entire body towards me, eyes dark and intent.
‘I realised recently that most things in life are temporary,’ she says seriously. ‘Almost everything, actually. So, closing yourself off to something because you don’t want to risk eventually losing it? I get the impulse, but I’m not sure it’s worth it.’
I in no way, shape or form have an answer to that. But I don’t need one, apparently – Marika is already getting to her feet, stretching as she glances at her watch.
‘I have to go,’ she continues offhandedly. ‘I’ll be at the apartment tonight, though. Maybe we could do something.’
‘That would be really nice,’ I say, and she offers me a brief smile before replacing her sunglasses and gliding away. I watch her go, feeling … I’m not sure what I’m feeling right now, actually.
A lot of things. But grateful, mostly.
To have Marika in my corner. To realise that she’s let me into hers.