It was a small crew for a small shoot. A line that produced accessories more than anything. There was a table laid out with bags and jewelry and glasses frames and not far away a photographer was snapping close framed shots of a girl in chunky earrings and necklaces.

He checked in with the director and sat down with hair and make up. They styled him like something a little more currently in fashion, hair swept back and gelled perfectly. He didn't look like his usual grunge band reject self. Even less so when they put him in a full suit, and not a shitty American cut one either.

Emmett eyed himself in the mirror as they pinned it just a little more snug in places. He hardly recognized himself. Personally, he would've liked to add a long cigarette holder and lit cigarette to the look. It wasn't his decision though.

They put him in overpriced stud earrings, tortoise shell patterned glasses and a watch that probably cost more than a couple months rent. He knew other models who padded their wardrobe with stolen goods. Emmett wasn't confident he could do so without getting caught.

The photographer was still with the other model so Emmett practiced some faces in the mirror. He couldn't deny that he liked himself in the look. He snuck a quick photo to see if Edan felt the same.

"Tell me how badly you want to bend me over a table." He tapped out quickly but his finger hesitated over 'send'.

What was the worry? He sent the message on its way and stashed the phone in his day clothes before joining everyone around the photographer. It was only a moment more before it was his turn.

"Take some inspiration from your look. We want something stately but current."

What the fuck does that mean? Photographers definitely needed more concise instructions. There was no point in trying to sound so artistic about it if they didn't end up conveying what they actually wanted.

You should look down on the camera the next time you do a shoot.

That man's advice... but maybe it would do him good here. Dressed in however many thousands of dollars worth of clothes, shouldn't he appear to do so?

He gave it a try. Variations of standing tall but not straight, looking down over his glasses at those below. A hard stance and expression, like he would personally end a person who gave him bad news. Emmett couldn't have actually done so but it was fun to pretend.

After a few dozen pictures they switched things up. The camera pulled in closer, Emmett sat at a slab of wood that would read as a table in the photo. The jacket was taken away and the accessories switched out. New but similar earnings, round framed sunglasses and more rings than anyone should ever try to wear at once. Emmett found himself imagining a mob boss's son.

"I like the airs you've been giving me but pull it back a bit. How about some softer ones too? Something to make a wife buy something for her husband."

I'd rather the husband bought me.

He tried. Less of a frown, more of a distant look. The photographer didn't give any further critiques, but he didn't offer any praise either. Maybe it was only so-so. They did keep him for one more outfit change and a few dozen more photos, so at least there was that.

Walking back to the dressing area, Emmett gave a sigh of relief. It went as well as he could have hoped. He grabbed a bottle of water and shook the collar of his shirt. The studio lights were always hotter than he remembered.

He hurriedly unbuttoned the vest and shirt as he went. It was as he passed the mirrors that he remembered the message he had sent to Edan. It seemed like a silly thing to do again and he felt apprehensive as he picked up his phone.

There was a response.

"Tell me where to find you and I'll do it right now."

Emmett couldn't figure out what emotion to feel first. Happy, flattered, confused, turned on? Whatever it was it made him lightheaded and he slumped into a makeup chair before he lost it.

"Are you back in the country?" He typed back. It was a damn good thing it was text and not talking. Emmett was far more breathless than he cared to admit. He spun in the chair while he waited for a response.

"Home sweet home."

Emmett chewed on a fingernail as he tried to compose himself. Why was he more nervous now than he'd been the first time?

Oh, because it isn't just a one night stand.

"I'm almost done here. Why don't you tell me where to find you instead?"

Seconds later, an address in his message box.