Page 24 of Love Me Gently

Two hours ago, the team he hired whisked me into hair and makeup.

He’d never done that before. I’d never sat in a chair, behind screens, while Robert prepared a shoot for me and a team prepared me.

It’d been a dream come true until someone came in, handed me a white silk robe and with a bored tone, stated, “Wear nothing besides this.”

I’d barely managed to grab the silky robe before it fluttered to the floor. My gaze had jumped to the stylists while a lump formed in my throat.

“What?”

“Nude today,” the makeup artist said, piling all her brushes and compacts into three large cases. “That’s what the agenda said.”

I considered refusing, and then the reminder of Robert telling me he was stretching my limits came to my mind. He had tried to prepare me, I just wished he’d done a more thorough job.

When I walked out from the screens, draped in nothing but a silk robe, and Robert motioned me toward the lounge chair, he’d been as succinct and professional as always. He started with photos of me in my robe, slowly having me undrape it from my shoulders as my comfort grew. How he knew, I had no idea, but he must have seen something in my eyes soften because every time I reached that point of ease, he took me further.

My breasts were displayed, my blond hair draped over a shoulder. I was lying mostly on my side, propped on my other hand.

“Okay, Trina,” Robert said, “let’s remove that last piece. Slide your top leg forward and bend it over your bottom one.”

I envisioned the position. It’d keep me covered, mostly, yet no one but Cole had ever seen those parts of me.

And just the reminder of him, thinking of him, nude, in front of another man even if that man was a photographer sent a cool trickle down my spine.

If Cole had his way, I wouldn’t be doing photo shoots and magazine ads. I’d be back at home in Deer Creek, attending community college and waiting for him on Friday nights to get done with his studies so we could take his truck to a field and make out. I wouldn’t be exposing my body to photo shoots, I’d be covering it with thick and warm maternity clothes, large as a house. I blinked that reminder away before I could linger on it and focused on thenow.

My Friday nights were spent chasing my dreams, and they were coming true.

“Trina?” Robert asked, lifting his head behind the camera. “Are you ready?”

I shifted into the position he described, and once my legs still hid my most intimate areas, I brushed the silky drape to the floor.

“Beautiful,” Robert muttered and ducked behind his lens. “Arch your back… tilt your chin up…stunning…look this way…”

I followed his cues, focused on my dream, and pushed thoughts of Cole to the background.

I still spoke to my parents, but I was answering their calls less and less often. In January when my mom brought up Cole, I’d asked her to quit mentioning him. She’d sounded disappointed, as if she thought the only reason I’d ever return home was for him, but she was mistaken.

I missed my parents.

I didn’t miss Deer Creek.

I loved walking in Central Park or perusing the Met. I went and saw plays and wandered the city. I’d been to the top of the Empire State Building and taken a ferry ride to the Statue of Liberty. I wandered through SoHo and found a cute restaurant in Little Italy. Stella and I, with some girls she met in her online class, went ice skating.

I was seeing everything I wanted to, experiencing it all firsthand instead of in a glossy travel guide.

Deer Creek had nothing on New York.

“You seem distant today.”

Robert’s voice startled me, and I flinched, jerking my head only to see him no longer behind the camera, but in a chair facing mine. He reached out and brushed hair off the side of my face. “Not that I mind. The camera loves you even when you look a little sad. More so, maybe.”

“I’m not sad.” I tried to smile. “Are we done?”

“With the photos.”

“Oh. Okay then.” I leaned forward and reached for the satin robe I’d had on my lap.

“Don’t.”

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