Chapter 6 - Leo 

Over the past four weeks, I’ve done a total of 8 shoots at Jordan’s studio. I’m surprised I haven’t grown bored of this yet, but the campaigns I get to do are fun and I love the clothes. And the pay is decent. I haven’t had to take up as many shifts at The Rabbit Hole since Jordan has been paying me for the shoots I’ve done. Nothing I ever want to depend on, but for now it’s great.

It also helps that Jordan is hot as hell and the best piece of eye candy. He’s my type and I can tell he’s into me. 

But nothing has happened between us yet. We haven't even gotten as close to each other as we did on the stairs that day. I thought he would kiss me and I still believe he would have if it weren’t for his phone ringing. I might have been the one to make the first move for once if we weren't in a fucking stairwell. I’d kiss him anywhere in the world as long as it’s not a damn stairwell. 

I especially appreciate his company since Danny’s gone home for a few weeks before summer ends. He also told me he enjoys my company, so when I come over and he’s done taking pictures of me, I hang out on his couch while he edits or does other work. 

Right now I’m on the couch in his living room while he’s on the opposite side editing the photos we just took. I watch him as his eyes stay laser-sharp on the screen. He does this cute thing when he’s focusing. Slightly scrunches his brow and clenches his jaw. It’s ever so slight that you wouldn’t even notice it. He’s so attractive I still can’t believe he chooses to be behind the camera instead of in front of it. 

I stand up, swipe the Polaroid camera off of his bookshelf, and stand before him. “Hey, let me take a picture of you.”

He looks up and furrows his brow even more. “No. Why do you want to take a picture of me?”

I give a slight shrug. “Just for fun. You said I should find my passion. What if photography is my passion too?” I wave the camera around. 

He’s quiet for a moment debating it, then moves his laptop to the side. “Fine.”

I quickly snap a photo. 

“I wasn’t ready!” He exclaims, reaching for the camera but I turn around before he makes contact. “Too late! It’s printing.” Once the photo is out I sit down and hand it to him. “Did I do a good job?”

Jordan looks it over for a few moments. In the photo, Jordan looks up at me with a neutral expression. His brown eyes are vivid and his mouth open mid-sentence. Saying he wasn’t ready was such a lie because he looks perfect in the picture.

“Yeah, you’re a natural.” He tosses it onto the coffee table and takes the camera from my hand while pulling my waist closer to him. “Let’s take one of the both of us. 3, 2, 1.” I pose as he clicks the button. 

We both eagerly wait for the photo. He removes his hand from my waist to rest on the couch, his chest slightly brushing my shoulders. The photo finally prints and I take it out. In the picture, I’m leaning into him and putting up a peace sign. My eyes are immediately drawn to the bottom left. Since Jordan took it from a high angle, his upper chest is exposed. He’s wearing his usual silky top with the first 3 buttons unbuttoned.

If he’d taken it from one inch higher I’d probably be able to see his happy trail. I’m fighting the perverted urge to ask him to take another, satisfied with this for now. I look at Jordan to see him looking at me instead of the photo and I feel my stomach start to do somersaults. We’re less than a foot away and the smell of his cologne is overwhelming all of my senses.

“Can I keep it?” I ask, turning my attention back to the photo. “Sure.” He moves away from me and back to his laptop which makes me want to scream. 

I haven’t had sex in a month. I’ve been ignoring my FWB because every time I go to Jordan's place I think it will be the night we finally do it. Every night I leave with blue balls and more sexually frustrated than ever before. I couldn't make it more obvious short of climbing onto him and ripping his clothes off. I’m embarrassed at myself for the amount of flirting I’ve done that he just ignores or doesn't respond to. I can’t tell if he’s doing it on purpose, but at the same time, he seems like the type to not be able to take a hint or the type to take things too literally. If I point blankly told him I want him to fuck my brains out he would probably be confused and say, “That’s not even humanely possible, Leo.”

Yesterday, after I finished modeling a tracksuit, the zipper of the pants got stuck. And yeah, I could have probably fixed it on my own but I brought it to Jordan’s attention under the guise that I didn’t want to rip it. Which is kinda, partially true. I went over to him on the couch and while looking down at him, his face the same height as my crotch, in the most seductive tone I could conjure I raised my t-shirt and asked for his help. 

Look I know, I cringe thinking about it too. But it worked because he took my pants off and we fucked for three hours straight. 

Just kidding, that happened in my dreams later that night. All he did was jimmy the zipper a little bit to get it unstuck, before returning his attention to his laptop. He didn’t even zip it all the way down like in the fanfiction that I was living out in my head. 

I can’t tell if he’s playing a cruel joke on me at this point and purposely acting oblivious. I think back to when he said he wouldn't fuck me until he got to know me. Well, he knows me now so…

“I want to keep this one too. I need to create a photography portfolio.” I pick the other Polaroid off the table and wave it back and forth. “What would you actually do if I liked photography too?” 

Jordan puts a hand on his chest. “It would make my heart very, very happy.”

I get up and move to the other side of the couch as far away as possible to prevent myself from doing something I might regret. He hasn’t talked about his “no fucking his models” rule since the first time he brought it up. Even though we give each other fuck me eyes all day long, neither of us have initiated anything. And I’m pathetically still waiting for him to make the first move. 

"Do you have a passport?" Jordan's question pulls me out of my thoughts as he sets down his laptop on the coffee table in front of us. 

"What?" I reply, feeling confused thinking maybe I missed something else he said.

“There’s this gig that one of my photographers is asking me to cover for him. Just a simple fashion shoot in the city. It’s at the end of the summer.” He combs his hair back and leans both of his arms over the top of the couch. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he can see the confusion on my face. A passport for a shoot in the city?

“I just need to know if you have a passport, in case I decide to do it because it’s in London."

He leans over to pull out an album from underneath the side table. I put my feet down as he moves closer to me, our legs bumping into each other. He props the album that has the word LONDON in cursive on the cover onto both of our laps and flips it open to a page. The album is a collection of different models posing on various street corners, cafes, and tourist attractions. Underneath each photo is the model's name, the year, and the brand of clothes they’re wearing. He continues to flip through the pages, stopping at certain shots to tell me the types of places we would go.

As he spoke, my mind started racing with thoughts of London. I've never been there before and the idea of it excited me. But at the same time, I felt unsure. I wasn't sure if I was ready for a big trip like this, or if I would even be able to take the time off. I also wondered about the cost.

Jordan must notice my apprehension because he turns to me, his gaze intense as he asks, “Tell me your hesitations. Let me know what's on your mind and I'll do my best to put your worries at ease.” He leans in more, his expression intense as he speaks. 

Can he read my mind or are my emotions just that easily read? Swear it has to be the former because I have the best poker face.

I tell him I’m unsure about the cost, the timing being around when school starts, how I just started modeling and that this seems like a big shoot. He holds my gaze, his expression unreadable as he listens. By the time I’m finished, I’m convinced he’s just going to say, Yeah you’re right to let’s not do it, but instead he starts addressing every single concern I had. 

There’s no cost; the flight tickets have already been paid for by his photographer and the place we are staying at is the property of Jordan’s friend, Mason. We’ll only be there for 3 days over the weekend, weeks before school starts. 

“I’m not going to bullshit you and tell you you’re the best model I’ve ever had. Because you’re not. And there will always be someone better than you.” He continues. 

In any other scenario, even though it’s true, I’d be offended but his honesty is extremely attractive. I can't look away from him, his eyes holding me captivated, filled with emotion as he speaks. 

“But,” he says as he closes the album. “I know that you will do great and I wouldn't ask you if I didn’t truly believe that.” I press my lips together. 

“You don’t have to decide now,” he adds. “But what do you think?”

I take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts before replying. “It sounds really cool. But I’ll have to think about it.”

He tilts his head slightly to one side and looks at me with a playful expression. “You say that a lot.” 

I pout and furrow my brows. “Say what a lot?”

He moves forward to set the album on the coffee table, the bottom of his shirt slightly lifting. His entire wardrobe couldn't be more different than mine: tight button-down or mock neck shirts and long sleeves that show off his muscles and fitted pants that perfectly sculpt his ass. I feel like a 16-year-old kid in my oversized shirts and jeans. 

“I’ll think about it,” He repeats. I think about that and realize how right he is. The funny part though is that most of the time I already know my answer. I figured out early on that I could think about something for days or I could just trust my instinct from the get go. It’s always the same answer. 

“What’s your yes to no percentage? Whenever someone asks me something I’m on the fence about, I tell them a percentage. So are you 70% yes, 30% no? 40% yes, and 60% no? Like that.” 

I smile, never having heard that before but also not surprised he uses a system like that. I contemplate for a second then respond. “50% yes, 50% no.” He starts laughing and leans back, placing one arm over the couch behind me. “Leo, it's not supposed to work like that. You should be more toward one side.” 

I give him a confused look for the umpteenth time today. “What’s the point of percentages if you can’t be 50-50 on the fence?” He looks up tilting his head side to side as he uses his other hand to rub his jaw, considering what I said. “Fine you win, you’re right.”

My mouth falls open, I’ve been waiting for this opportunity to tease him. I poke his bicep a couple of times. “Wow, are you actually admitting defeat right now?” 

He motions his hand back and forth, imitating waving a white flag. “Yeah. You won. So what do you want?” He waits for me to answer. 

“An IOU that I’ll redeem later.”

He smiles. “Deal.” 

I plop back down on my side of the couch.

“By the way, did your parents name you Leo because you were born in August?” Jordan asks. “I’ve been wondering that since you told me your birthday.” 

“No idea,” I reply. I probably won’t ever see them again so I can’t ask.

I haven’t seen my mom in over a decade and I’ve never met my dad. I don’t know where my parents are and I don’t care to know if they don’t care about me. 

The last time I saw my mother in person was when I was ten. When it was just me and her in our small cramped apartment, she would be gone for weeks at a time, leaving me alone at home. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” She’d assure me with both her hands on my tiny shoulders. A few hours always turned into a few weeks, then months.

Sometimes she would come back alone but most times she brought gross men over and she’d just give me some candy and tell me to play in my room. After things ended with every single guy she was seeing, she would pat my head and tell me to never trust a man or never accept anything from a man. That they’ll always want something in return.

Jordan’s phone rings and he reaches out and accepts the call. I smile knowing who it is since he has a different ringtone for him. I think it’s adorable that his little brother calls him every day. Jamie will talk to him about some problems even if it’s something small and Jordan will listen and try to help him. 

Growing up I was always jealous of kids who had siblings because I had no one. Well, I had my nonna of course, but I had no friends until I turned eight. And that friend I made was a 50-year-old homeless man that lived under a bridge near my house. When I was taking a shortcut back from school, I saw him in front of a tent roasting what looked like chicken strips on a portable stove. He noticed me watching him and called me over. 

I know, I know. Stranger danger. But at that point in my life, no one had ever noticed me and I know how fucking stupid that sounds. I was a skinny kid with a stutter and the prime target of ruthless elementary kids. 

Anyways, every so often I would hang out with that homeless man and he would grill me hot dogs. He would tell me crazy stories and I would just sit there for hours and listen until it got dark and I went home. One day when I went under that bridge all of his things were gone and I never saw him again. It’s weird, but I was sad for a while that he at least didn’t say goodbye.  

After Jordan ends the call, he gets up and walks over to his camera bag on the circle dining table. “You want to learn how to shoot on a real camera?” I perk up and watch as he pulls out the camera and changes its lens. With his back to me, I take the opportunity to get a good look at his slacks perfectly sculpting his ass. I know I’m sex deprived when I start fantasizing about whether he wears boxers or briefs.  He seems like a boxer type of guy but I’m hoping to God it’s briefs. Or even better, a bikini cut like me. 

When he turns to me I practically have to wipe the drool off of my face. “Yeah, sure. Why not.” I hop to my feet and join him by the window. Honestly, I’ve been wanting to ask him to teach me but ever since that little coffee incident, I didn’t think he’d want me near another camera.