Chapter 11 - Jordan 

Serious question. 

Is it selfish of me that I don’t want to share Leo with anyone? 

Is it selfish of me to want to keep all of the photos I’ve taken of him to myself? 

Because I don’t want anyone else to see these. Other than the ones for paid projects, I want to keep the rest of them for myself. I want to be the only one who gets to see him this way.

My original plan was to post them at the end of the summer to officially end my hiatus. That was the plan after the second photoshoot. Now, we’re onto photoshoot number, I don’t even know, we’ve done at least 12. Every single picture of him turns out flawless. It’s like he was born to be in front of the camera. Like the camera was invented for him. 

And there lies my problem. I know if I post these pictures there’s a 99% chance he will become famous and I’ll have thousands of people messaging me asking about him. During one of our shoots, I got a Facetime call from one of my friends, Jacques, who is partners with a designer whose line we shot and submitted a couple of weeks ago.

They just approved all of the shots which is why he was calling.

I picked up the call and before the video call even loaded, the first thing I hear in his thick French accent was, “Where is he??”

I gave him a confused look and said, “What happened to Hi? Hello? How are you?”

Jacques sheepishly smiled before replying, “Hi Jordan, hello, how are you? Now where is he?” I already knew he was referring to Leo, who was changing in the back room, having just finished up for the day. 

“I’m right here, what are you talking about?” I jokingly replied to which he shook his head and pointed at me through the screen. “You think you’re funny huh.”

Jacques is one of my oldest industry friends, we met on a random street in Marseille in southeastern France. This was early in my career, I hadn’t even started my company yet, and way before he was the head designer for a huge fashion brand in Paris. I was taking photos of one of my friends at the time who volunteered to let me take pictures of him. I was looking through the lens of my camera when all of a sudden a big black furry coat blocked my view. I looked up to see a man in the craziest yet most stylish outfit I’d ever seen. He had on a white leather outfit from head to toe, with a big black coat and a flat cap. He was facing my friend and before I could say anything he stepped aside. I realized he was adjusting his shirt and jeans and I don’t know exactly what he did but it looked 10 times better than before. We were both dumbfounded but we just started taking more shots while he watched us. When I was finished I thanked him and we exchanged contact info. I didn’t see him again until years later when we were working on the same campaign. I came to love his eccentric personality and French accent. 

“The beautiful boy! Where is he?” At the same moment, Leo reappeared from the dressing room. I watched him walk over to me and I muted the Facetime call. “This is my Jacques, the designer of the clothes we shot last Monday. The silk robes.”

Jacques created a line of silk men’s robes and pajama sets that launch next month. Before I asked if Leo wanted to talk to him he was already next to me waving at my phone. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you. I loved the robes.” On the screen, Jacques gets out of his chair and shrieks so loud I had to quickly lower my volume to prevent it from bursting our eardrums. 

He sat back down and apologized but he still talked loudly. “You’re even more beautiful in person. In video form I mean. Wow. Jordan. Where have you been hiding this boy?” I eyed Leo, wondering if he could understand him through his thick accent. I grew up around my mom and grandmother who have the thickest accents, so understanding accents is easy for me.

“Sorry this one’s mine, I’m keeping him all to myself. Tell Jackson to stop messaging me.” Jackson is a creative director and photographer who works directly with Jacques. When Jacques came to me to do his robes campaign, he told me that Jackson insisted he be the one to take the photos. The day before, I sent some sample pictures of Leo and they were immediately obsessed with him. Jacques wanted to fly us out for the rest of the year to model for his upcoming campaigns. I never brought it up to Leo because I already knew he would pick going to school over that even though at this point he could quit everything and become a high-paying supermodel. Most of his pictures will be used on billboards, fashion magazines, and in advertisements all around the world. But he's hard-working and determined about finishing his education which I find extremely attractive. I might have also not brought it up because I actually do want him to myself, but that’s beside the point.

He also doesn’t care about fame. Leo doesn’t have any social media and when I asked him if he wanted me to post the pictures he sounded hesitant. I told him if he didn’t want me to that was fine. And maybe I was hoping he would tell me not to post. Instead, he just replied with “No, not at all. That’d be cool.”

So, right now we’re in my living room going through the 500+ photos we’ve taken over the past few months. I knew I took a lot but I’m still in awe at the amount. I’ve never taken 500 perfect photos of one person and to be honest I don’t think I could tolerate being around one person that much. But I could take 50,000 pictures of Leo and still want to take more. I won’t do that though because it would take me a century to pick the ones I want to use. Even though I’d rather keep them for myself, if Instagram didn’t have a picture limit of 10 per post, I’d post all 500, just because I can’t pick. 

“Ooh, I like this one.” Leo stops swiping. It’s 10 PM, and we’ve been on my iPad for the past 2 hours, favoriting pictures while some rom-com movie plays on the TV in the background. We’re both on the floor with blankets covering our legs, and one of my arms rests on the couch behind Leo. 

I zero in on the screen. The photo is from the shoot we did in London a couple of weeks ago. In the center is Leo with his hands in his pockets, head slightly tilted facing the camera. Behind him are buildings and pedestrians, going about their day-to-day lives. “Yeah,” I nod. “I like it too.” 

Leo looks up at me, our faces only a few inches apart, and furrows his brow before rolling his eyes. “You’ve said that about the last 20 pictures I said I liked.” He faces back to the screen and starts swiping again. 

I let out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s because I like them all.” I rake my long hair back. I’m long overdue for a haircut, this is the longest I’ve gone without one. Currently, my hair reaches a bit past my chin and usually, I wouldn't have let it grow this long. But the night we first slept together Leo combed his fingers through my hair and said it was softer than he imagined. He then added, ‘Men with long hair are so sexy.’ So needless to say, I won’t be cutting my hair any time soon.

Ever since we started seeing each other there’s been a gnawing feeling I can’t escape. What are we? We see each other every day, he sleeps over at my place almost every night, I make him breakfast, and he wears my clothes. Anyone looking from the outside in would think we’re a married couple. But we haven’t discussed exactly what we are and haven’t made anything official. I’m pretty sure, at least I hope, that I’m the only guy he’s seeing. I haven’t directly asked him, but we spend almost every minute of the day together other than when he’s working so I can’t imagine he has time to see someone else. 

I still don’t know much about his personal life other than the couple of things he’s shared with me or things I’ve noticed. Like that he doesn’t really have any family, he’s living with one of his best friends named Danny, and he has a scarily good memory.

He’s surprisingly pretty open with me which I didn’t expect from him. The first night I met him he seemed so elusive and mysterious. I never imagined we’d be where we are today, him wearing only a shirt and boxers, sitting shoulder to shoulder on my living room floor, with my arm around him. 

Leo sighs and locks the iPad. 

“We can be done for today,” I tell him as I take the tablet out of his hands and place it on the coffee table in front of us.  “Tomorrow we’ll narrow down the ones you picked out.” On TV, a blonde girl just got home from school and is arguing with her parents.

“Thank you, I’m tired of looking at my face.” I stop myself from saying I’d never be tired of looking at your face because I know I’ll be met with a mocking, damn you’re so obsessed with me from him.

One interesting thing I’ve noticed about Leo is that most of the time he doesn’t take compliments well. He’ll just deflect or make a joke out of it. But I can tell he appreciates them because there’s a hint of happiness in his voice. 

We both watch the movie for a while until I remembered something I wanted to ask him. “By the way,” I start while clicking the volume down on the remote. “What do you want for your birthday?” 

 “Nothing,” he replies with no hesitation, eyes still focused on the TV. 

I frown. “You can’t want nothing.” His birthday, August 22nd, is 3 weeks away. He thoughtfully bites his lower lip and remains quiet for a moment. He then leans his head back onto the couch and smiles up at me. “Okay, I want a cake. Just a cake.” 

I concede for a moment. “I can get you a cake. What kind?” 

Again, with no hesitation, he answers. “Ice cream or red velvet.”

 Easy enough. “I’ll get you an ice cream red velvet cake.” Before I can ask my next question he scrunches his nose and cuts me off. “They don’t make red velvet ice cream cakes. Trust me I’d know.” 

Leo turns his head back to the TV as laughter explodes on the screen while the blonde girl talks on the phone with her friend. I stay focused on him. “I’ll make it myself.” 

He faces me and raises his eyebrows. “You know how to bake cakes?” 

I lift my shoulder in a half-shrug. “Sure, it can't be that hard.” 

The corners of his mouth lift as he quips, “If it’s anything like that spaghetti you made…I dunno.” 

I mockingly roll my eyes. “Oh fuck off, you licked that plate clean.” He bursts into laughter and I can’t help but laugh too. When we both stop I ask him the second question.

 “If you could have anything in the world what would it be?” I lean my elbow up and rest my palm on my face, my body now fully turned towards him. He mirrors my movement and faces toward me, his arm resting on the couch touching mine. I try to suppress my smile. “Why do you want to be me so bad? You copy my every move.” 

He’s now trying to suppress his smile but fails because he’s grinning, and I laugh at his restraint. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I think that you’re so obsessed with me that you just think I want to be you.” 

I nod and rake my hair back again. “Right, if telling yourself that helps you sleep at night.” 

He watches my fingers move in between the strands of my hair. I’m not going to lie, I could sit here for hours and just stare at him without saying anything but I tap his knee and break the silence. “So? Anything in the world?” He blinks a couple of times before muttering a ‘hmm’ and looking away while biting his lip, deeply thinking about it. About a minute goes by before he answers. “It’s not something money can buy. But I’ll tell you what it is another day.” 

I think about that for a second. “Okay, monetary aside, is it something I can give you?” I counter. He gives me an astonished look as if he’s surprised I asked that.

He turns his head back to the TV and I fixate on his features while I wait for his answer. He replaced his hoop earrings with little studs and his hair is ever so slightly messy. He looks like he just got out of bed but also like he just walked on a runway, he’s so effortlessly pretty. I avert my gaze when he turns back to me so he doesn’t realize I was almost drooling over him. 

“Oh,” he begins. “I know what I want. It’s both something you can give me and something money can buy.” I sit up straighter and he leans closer to me. “Great, I’m listening. What is it?” Something I can give and buy him? I rack my brain but come up with nothing. 

He has this mischievous look in his eyes as he answers. “You,” he stares at my shirt before reaching over and unbuttoning the first button. “In a suit.” He continues unbuttoning, his finger brushing the contours of my pecs. I watch his face as I allow my confusion to suppress my arousal. 

“In a suit?” I repeat. 

He wants to see me in a suit? I know some people have fetishes for things like that but I didn’t expect that from him. He bites his lip as he unbuttons the second button.

“Yeah,” he continues. “A bunny suit. Black latex. Fishnets.”

Alright. 

Now that is something I expected from him. His eyes flit up to mine to gauge my reaction. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Is this one of the kinks you were talking about?” 

With two fingers still on my chest he lets out an effortless laugh. “I’m surprised you remembered that.” He then pulls away and I open my eyes back up. “You’re not the only one with an amazing memory here.” I think back to the restaurant and how Mason and I told him our orders and he remembered it all without writing anything down. I thought that was a one-time thing, or that he had a recording device on him or something. But since then he’s recalled the most minuscule details, it’s scary sometimes.

 He remembers the dates and times of every single photoshoot we’ve done. He remembers all of the clothes and brands he’s modeled. He’s like a sponge, soaking up every detail around him. 

I asked him if he ever says he forgot something, does that mean he’s lying and he just laughed and said probably. I also asked him how his grades were and he said he got straight A’s which makes sense, considering he basically has a photographic memory.

“Yeah, well,” he turns his attention back to the TV. “It’s not all that great.” He leans his head into the sofa again. “Especially when you remember things that you desperately wish you could forget.” I wait for him to say more but he stays quiet. I don’t ask because if he wants to tell me, he will. And I’m sure one day he will.

“But yes, that’s one of my kinks. One of many.” He watches me out of the corner of his eyes. I copy him and face forward, leaning my head into the sofa. “What are the others?” I mimic him and study him out of the corner of mine. Noticing, he laughs. “You’ll have to find that out on your own.” I nod slowly, facing forward, I can feel him waiting for my reaction. I don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he’s turned me on in the last 5 minutes.