Trespassing

Trip's POV

I yawned hearing another quote from Paradise Lost. Not that it bored me—okay maybe a little—I hadn't had a good's night sleep in two days in a row. Yesterday when I got home from Ava's I barely ate. I got ready for bed right after, I tossed and turned like the sea but there hadn't been anything to get me to sleep. Nothing. It was pure hell.

Now I looked like a zombie practically drooling all over my notes and books. If it wasn't for Finn nudging me every now and again, I would have fallen asleep, bashing my head on the table.

"Ms. Wellington, could you please point out the differences between Lucifer before the fall and after?"

And the sleep downed in instants. My head swiped to the side, my eyes focused past Finn and onto her—immediately, I sobered up. Her hair was straight, straighter than yesterday, then I'd ever seen it. She pushed it behind her ear, flipping pages back on her notebook she took her time. Her words were familiar, it didn't take me long to realize that was what I'd told her in our tutoring session. I smirked when Mr. Phil's jaw nearly hit the floor.

"Very nice, Ms. Wellington," he praised, she smiled but not at him, he'd already turned to another student.

She was smiling toward me until she saw I was staring right at her. Her hair shadowed everything about her. A muscle in my jaw jumped. There was the reason why I hadn't slept well last night, three letters made up her name—Ava. I spent all night replaying what happened—what almost happened in Ava's bedroom. Not the part where I was forced into hiding like a refugee. What kept me wide awake, unblinking was—what the hell was wrong with me? Relationships were a no-no since Catherine, especially with models. But that wasn't the only reason, since Catherine my life was flipped. I couldn't have anything serious, no girl would accept me if they knew that most weekends I had to have sex with girls—girls, who weren't them. Who in their right mind would agree to share me with model-girls? No one, that's who. I couldn't get involved with anyone.

"Incoming," what? My eyes glared at Finn. "Your friend is coming our way and hey—good to see you finally came down to Earth."

I wanted to glare daggers at him for implying something more behind the word 'friend'. It all died when Ava detoured our way, her little group wasn't anywhere in sight—weird, since we'd just left English and Brenda attended it.

Her hair was falling perfectly down her shoulders, the white shirt had three buttons popped open… eyes up, I forced myself.

"Hi," she said.

I pushed from the hallway wall, "Hey."

Great, how nice, not awkward at all…

Ava's brown eyes looked between me and Finn, her hold on the GUCCI purse—looks like that thing was back—intensified. She was shifty, nervous. I got the idea quickly.

"Finn," I inched my eyebrows as he glimpsed at me. "Can you let us talk… in private?" I added at last. It tortured me to say it, if people already talked this wasn't going to help.

His blond head bobbed back and forth—a grin etching his lips.

"Oh, I'll be… studying in the patio." He passed Ava who gave a tight smile.

There we were. Alone—just us and a hundred of other students chatting in a hall—none of us began.

"So," she cocked her head when I spoke. "What's up?" why had I told Finn to leave? Why did we need to be alone, what did I think we were going to talk about?

Ava's cheeks had a light shade on them, makeup, but even with it I saw beyond it—I saw the red-face.

"The audition's at six this afternoon," Ava mumbled. "I was wondering if you had time for a tutoring session, because of the quiz Mr. Phil scheduled."

My arms crossed my chest. I did promise Lydia I'd help Ava with her grades and our therapy session was tomorrow. Deep down I knew I shouldn't—another part, a bigger one, wanted to help. I was torn between doing the right thing or the wrong one. Yes, because helping her was the right thing to do.

"I… hmm, think I'm free." Yeah, I was so free for her—that sounded awful in my head like I was some loser who had nothing else to do. "My house isn't though."

"I wouldn't want to go there if it was—no offense—I just don't want to risk a run-in with your Mom…"

"Smart," since she'd probably be around, she'd arrived this morning when I was leaving. I didn't see her; Lawrence filled me in before I walked out. "Your house isn't a good place either. I don't want a repeat from yesterday." Something inside that phrase had Ava flatter, taking a faint step back, eyes avoiding mine. "You can pick a place."

"Really? I thought you were just going to demand we'd do it inside my car like last time." She showed me the outlines of a smirk.

I dropped my arms, dropping my guard taking one step from the hall's wall, "I didn't demand. I suggested and you went along with it." I shrugged beaming a nice-looking smile her way. "I can't wait to see what you come up with." I winked—not with as much charm as I wanted since Brenda caught my eye. She was coming down the hall. "You're bitchy friend's coming our way." I warned with a solemn expression slipping into place.

Ava cringed in front of me, then, as if by magic she inflated like a balloon. The biggest smile I'd ever seen crossed her shaped lips, it was fake and she gave it to Brenda as she spun.

"Ava," a hand fell in a soft, deliberate movement on her shoulders. "Valerie's out in the courtyard she wanted me to come fetch you since you're not answering her texts." The lime eyes ducked Ava's, meeting mine. "Hello, Thomas, I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

"You didn't." I stated in a cold voice just below the numb tone. "We were finishing up." Brenda was the completely non-fat kind of girl... was she non-muscled too? I wished I never had to touch her because, secretly, I thought she was only made of skin and bone—it creeped me out.

"In that case, I'll take her away now," she gripped her arm lightly.

Ava's POV

I finished lunch with Marcy and she was squealing about how lucky I was, how she wished she could be in my place—this was because I was going to pose for Giselle, only I wasn't—no one could know, though.

"What are you wearing—no when are you getting ready?"

"An hour or so before the audition starts."

"Are you sure that's enough time? It's not only change clothes, you need to put some hot makeup!" Now she was starting to sound like my Mom, fantastic, one Mrs. Wellington wasn't enough.

I nodded finishing my sparkling water.

"I'm used to this kind of thing already. It won't be a big deal."

"I'm so happy for you right now—can you imagine if you actually get picked? Because girl, it can happen! You're a hell of a model." The golden circlets that were her hair jumped framing her face. At least she was enthusiastic. "OMG!" everyone inside the café shifted their attention to us. My fingers fiddled together in my lap—I couldn't phantom what she thought of now… but by her gooey eyes told me it couldn't be something good. "What if you meet Thomas Harrington?" I nearly fell over hearing that name coming out of her mouth.

"Huh… I…" already know him. That was what I couldn't say, but was the only thing I came up with.

"You know who I'm talking about here, right?"

"Yeah, who doesn't?" I smiled sheepishly.

Marcy grinned winking, "Exactly."

"I don't want to jinx anything, so let's not get ahead of ourselves, 'kay?"

Marcy huffed, still pumped with positive conviction. She could be my Mother's new BFF.

"Fine, but if you do meet him you have to introduce us—promise?" No!

"Sure." I tweaked my leg to keep from flattering. "How are things with Jessie?" Changing the subject was much better, hearing Marcy talking about Thomas served only as torture. I was still debating with myself what I should do—why I'd asked him for tutoring time when I was so… conflicted.

"You know we're… taking it slow." Slow?

"I thought you were ready to jump his bones." I whispered checking my phone. I should text Trip soon letting him know where our study session was going down—I still didn't know where it was going to happen.

"I was—but that was before my Mom caught us in our bedroom."

"Are you crazy? You were thinking of doing it with your Mom home?" Now I was genuinely shocked. Could someone be as dumb as have sex with their parents home?

"She wasn't supposed to be home. God, I still can't believe she drove all the way back from Connecticut because she forgot her tooth brush." She breathed tugging down a curl—bouncing up and down. "Now we're stuck feeling each other up," now she skidded closer to the table, sitting on the edge of her chair. "We didn't have sex, but we did do other things." My eyebrows drew together, other things...? She opened her mouth—

"I'm gonna stop you right there." I held up a hand. "I don't want to know what you and Jessie did—or the size of his cock." I made a face.

Marcy's happy expression deflated, "You're no fun when it comes to these kinds of talks…" she whined.

"Well sorry if I don't want to know about your intimate life." I checked my phone again—it was time to talk to Thomas. "I have to go, I have a batch of homework for tomorrow."

"You can't hang out a little longer?" Marcy's eyes turned big puppy-looking orbs.

I cracked a smile, "Nope. I have to get this done ASAP."

We walked to the register paying our share. Outside, she stopped beside my car as I searched for the key.

"I really miss you, Ava." She said when I unlocked it. My eyes fell on her to see a small smile. "It's not the same without you, classes are way boring, and lunches… it's just not the same." I didn't know what to say to that right after. Marcy sounded genuine, the words heartfelt.

It nearly tore a smile—a real one—from me, but what Marcy missed was a fake version of me. I don't think the old-real-me would have fit on her popular-radar. I used to take photos for the year book, and I used to be happy.

"I miss you, too." My robotic-self replied before sharing an awkward hug—on my part—with her.

As soon as I was inside the car I pulled out my cell calling Trip. While it rang I gazed around my surroundings, thinking where we could hit the books. Central Park wasn't far away—we'd been there before, drunk, but I had to admit… it was kind of fun. Maybe we could go there sober?

"Ava, hey," I heard all of a sudden.

"Hi," this seemed an awkward repeat of today. "Are you free for this afternoon?"

"Yeah, you still on for tutoring?"

"Yes," this talk was so stupid… "Can you come and meet me in Central Park?"

There was a light pause, I thought he was going to say 'no'.

"I can do you one better," I was jostled by the tap on my window. Glaring at it, I saw a perfect chiseled face, with unique hues of blue for eyes. "What are the chances?" his eyebrows rose, a grin plastered across the ridiculously appetizing lips.

Recuperating from the scare, I rolled down the window, ending the call.

"Are you following me?"

"Are you full of yourself?" he joked, perking an eyebrow higher than other. "I live nearby, I was out for a walk—a long walk and… your car sticks out like a sore thumb."

I scowled running my hands over the Ford's wheel.

"I didn't choose it, it was Mia's. I inherit it." Like everything else in the last two years. "My parents didn't see a need to replace it." I made a face.

"Sorry," I shrugged. "Central Park?" I nodded. "Let's go then." He opened my door leaving me wide-eyed.

"What the…?"

"We're going to a place—the subway is faster." The subway? Thomas wanted to travel in public transports? I didn't know he knew those existed. He was really… something. "Come on, slowpoke."

I only had time to grab my sack before he pulled me out, I stumbled into his side.

"What place—I thought you wanted me to pick the place for today—"

"You did. It's Central Park, now I'm just taking you to somewhere there." My eyebrows cocked in confusion but I could say nothing as he tugged me from my car's side. I think my heart soared a tiny bit as he continuously pulled me—by the hand. Yup, it was fluttering like a feather riding the wind.

Feeling stupid all the way down the subway stairs, I kept up with his quick pace. It got a little difficult when I wanted to admire him a little more—his profile. Today at school hadn't been nearly enough. In calculus I hadn't glanced over my shoulder, I was obviously trying to deny my heart what it wanted: Thomas. Last night, just the sight of him was enough to make me gap like a demented fish, today something even worse happened—I didn't even need to hear the sound of his voice now, his presence alone was enough to send me off the rails. Apparently, making a decision to quit crushing on Thomas made things a ton worse. When he was behind me in class I'd been afraid of breathing, terrorized that just that simple action that I required to do to keep on living would set free my spark for him. When Brenda pulled me from him this morning I had half a mind to send her packing—of course I couldn't. I couldn't risk things for me.

"You're quiet." At Thomas' comment I noticed we were aboard the subway train towards Pelham Bay Park. When had we gotten on? No clue, I'd been too lost in his dreamy sapphires and olive skin to see anything else.

"Hmm," I mumbled shrugging my shoulders taking a glimpse around us. Two girls were sitting three seats away from us... they were looking. I said nothing. I had nothing to feel uncomfortable about, me and Thomas were friends. We were riding the subway together, really close, but that was nothing. It didn't mean anything. Not to him, anyway. My hand moved from him, my head knew it was right—my heart was a whole new story. "You're not going to tell me where your taking me?"

"Why, afraid I'll kidnap you?" would that be so bad? My parents didn't truly loved me, they loved Mia, I was Mia's shadow. They wouldn't miss me, just her. Sometimes I wanted to just up and leave, I used to think about it—sometimes the thought occurred, though, nowadays it was nothing but a quick whisk. I didn't ponder it a lot. I wondered why that was, and didn't have to think very hard. The reason was standing right next to me. "A surprise is a surprise. I'm not ruining it." Trip turned in his seat, a leg pulled up as he faced me.

Wow. Thomas was flawless, it almost seemed strange for there to be zero flaws in—my eyes blinked. How had I missed that? I'd seen Thomas plenty of times, we'd been really close too, I guess I wasn't really considering studying his beauty. I was more concerned on either backing away or... leaning in.

Out of instinct, I touched it, running my finger tip over it. Thomas flinched by clenching his jaw. My eyes widened a tiny bit, hand dropping immediately, afraid I'd made him angry.

"I... never noticed that scar before. It surprised me, sorry if it hurt?" I asked not really knowing how recent it was.

"It doesn't hurt," he answered steadily, running his own thumb over the paler shade of skin. "I just wasn't expecting that." Neither was I.

"Where did you get it?"

"Car accident," he muttered. "The one where I crashed my car into a wall." The same people talked about for weeks on end, the one before we met—it was strange I never saw his scar until now. We never talked about why the crash happened, I didn't know what led him to do it—maybe it had been an accident. I wouldn't have a hard time believing it. I wasn't going to ask because I hadn't talked about my own seeded issues, I didn't' want to. If I did that... it would mean relive that night, that awful-God-damned night. The night my life changed. Nausea filled my vision just by thinking about the details, the guilt revolving inside my stomach. "You're not going to ask?"

I relaxed my back into the seat, inching my arm and side towards him.

"Ask what?" I found myself whispering over the voices around the train's hallway.

"What happened, why it happened. Was it really an accident or wasn't it?"

"No," I shook my head. "I don't care about why. It happened but you're okay, that's what's important, isn't it?"

Thomas pressed his lips into a taught line. I couldn't help but wonder what was running through his head. A hushed giggle caught in my ears. A strong will-bending feeling wrapped me up, it was acid like a lemon, tasting bitter in my mouth. Jealousy? I glanced to where the two girls were, feeling hyper-aware of them staring at us—at him. Possessiveness shouldn't be something for me to feel, not when it concerned Trip. He wasn't mine, he wasn't something material that you could buy and ogle. He was a human being. Was it stupid and wrong that I glared those two girls to hell just because they were admiring him? I got why they were doing it, but I hated that they only looked at him and saw the outside, they didn't know Thomas like I did. At the same time, I felt glee for knowing his true personality, like I had a piece of his soul with my name on it.

"I think they're from your fan club." I pointed with my chin not at all discretely. The girls stilled as Thomas followed my eyes.

"I get those looks a lot." He mumbled not smiling or waving at his fan-girls, I could see their little hearts breaking when he turned all the attention to me. "It gets old really fast." I could relate... in my old high school and ours, boys gave me more than approving glances. So many boys in the world... why did I had to be stuck with the one I wanted but couldn't have? Maybe I should have given Cole a chance. Was this karma? It sucked, it really did. But he and all the other guys wanted to go out with me because they thought they'd get lucky. "What do you want to talk about today?"

Why didn't you kiss me in my room? I groaned inwardly.

"About the motives of Lucifer—why he rebelled and he felt it was his mission to doom mankind." I nipped at the corner of my lip, wondering if I should... "And maybe... about Adam and Eve's love?"

Thomas flickered his eyes from my face.

"What's there to talk about their love? They were in love, end of story."

Did he know what I was hinting at? If he did he was running from it.

"Well, I was wondering why he loved her after she condemned them both."

"She didn't condemn Adam to anything, she ate from the forbidden tree and told him to do the same—he followed her because he loved and trusted her. After their fall Adam couldn't hold her responsible for something he chose to do. He loved her unconditionally." I sighed, glaring ahead feeling like a six-year old throwing a tantrum. Thomas was smart, and he studied, he kept up with classes. That in a guy was amazing—but just this once, I wished he wasn't being rational. I wished he got the hint, that he talked about us—our relationship. Whatever we had. "Ava?" he nudged my shoulder with his knuckles—a slow and affectionate nudge.

I kept my arms around my bag staring outside the window.

"We have an appointment tomorrow." I decided to change the subject, not feeling in the mood to hear Trip's lyrical voice explain the themes and conflicts of Milton's work. "Have your parents talked to you about ending the sessions?"

"No," he started softly, I could feel his eyes fastened on me. "I haven't talked to either of them in days." I blinked from amazement. Days? I was lucky if I got away from them for a few hours—Mom especially. He got days off of them?

"I wish I didn't have to talk to mine." He grunted before shifting.

"I can always kidnap you for real." The cocky grin lit his face like a Chritmas tree. I tore my eyes from the window completely, smiling up at him.

"Where would we go if you really kidnapped me?"

"Anywhere, everywhere. I'm a very flexible kidnapper." Thomas winked—the one from this morning had nothing on this one, it made me feel all girly-girly on the inside. "Where would you like me to take you?"

Anywhere sounded nice as long as I went with him. Drawing my shoulders in some, I fiddled with the zipper.

"I don't know..."

"Come on, there has to be a place where you never been—a place you want to go to."

The thing was... "I've never really been anywhere." Admitting it seemed stupid, but true. Mom and Mia had gone places together—Paris, Milan, Rome—they never took me, I stayed with my Dad.

Thomas contemplated me for a couple of seconds. His head tilted briefly in a bird-like manner.

"That's even better, more choices." I shook my head at the silly expression I made. "I'm serious—" his words were cut short by the stopping of the train and the voice coming from the speakers. "But right now, we're heading for a surprise."

Right, I reminded myself, he was taking me to a surprise studying spot. I couldn't wait to see where that was. We got out on St. Hunter College. Soon our surroundings changed from gray sidewalks and buildings to greenish nature. We followed down a path quietly. I shouldn't be with Thomas, spending my time with him wasn't something I should do—he was just the right kind of wrong. Was that even a thing?

"You know what that is?" Thomas' voice broke through the barrier of thoughts. He was pointing to a elegant structure, a stage made of stone in the middle of a open area.

"Huh, yeah. It's the Bandshell, right?" It was a popular place for summer concerts, not that I'd ever watched one here. After Trip nodded I stopped walking, tapping a finger to my chin. "Why is it called that? I mean, sure the wall is curved... but it doesn't look like a shell."

His scar was pushed up as his eyebrow rose.

"What does it look like to you?"

"I don't know, just a pretty stage." He laughed. "How about to you?"

"I don't know. It's just a architectural piece, nothing else. This city is filled with construction, but it's a nice spot." A nice spot? I swallowed glancing around.

"We're studying there? Is it even legal to climb onto that thing?"

"Why wouldn't it be legal? It's standing in the middle of a public park, I'm pretty sure sirens won't go off and the boys in blue won't rain down on us." He was nuts, he had to be. We came all the way for this? Even as I told myself it was a waste of time, I knew it hadn't been. Because of the subway ride I'd gotten to spend a little more time with Thomas.

"Ever seen a concert here?" I shook my head feeling like I should have attended one just to say 'yes' so I wouldn't rate loser on his list. "That's a shame it's a pretty cool place to watch one." He grinned jumping up to the cement stage. "It's your lucky day."

"What... what are you doing?"

"I'm giving you a show." I nearly toppled over as the words finished leaving his mouth. A show...? I hoped this was me taking my mind into the gutter. "I can do a mean air guitar." Thomas poised his hands in the air, one leveled with his stomach and another high up with his shoulder, like he was holding a real guitar.

I couldn't believe this was happening. People were around, weren't they? They were passing by thinking Thomas had lost his mind. Or maybe I was just being over dramatic? I should loosen up and have fun, I should have fun watching Trip.

"Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack." I rolled my eyes looking up at him who was now in much higher ground than me. "Now back away." He waved me off.

"Why?"

"Because you'll have a better view of everything—go further!" He yelled I stumbled back another step.

"You're supposed to be teaching me about fallen angels and the fall of mankind, not playing rock star." I smiled when he ignore my shout out, making the collar of his leather jacket stand up. Somewhere inside me laughs were ready to bubble up, I just couldn't tear my eyes away. I couldn't turn and miss Thomas moving his fingers on top of his chest, head shaking side-to-side as if he was doing the biggest, most complicated accords of his life. The higher hand, the one holding the invisible guitar-arm slid down and up a few times. I lost it when he made a deep sound, it sounded like everything but a guitar. I laughed shamelessly, only able to get peeks at him through my head shakes—I saw him smiling though. "Oh my God..." my hand covered my mouth towards the big finish—at least I thought he was wrapping his big act up. He bent over some, hair flying to the front of his face then all the way back when he gave jolt.

I neared the stage smiling like a big idiot. Thomas crouched at the edge. I could see his chest heaving under the shirt. My hand twitched—we were so close...

"You're such a dork."

"You liked it, admit it." He flicked my nose pulling back just as quickly, making it impossible for me to slap it. Trip chuckled. "How many stars?"

"Hum, ten?" his face got all brightened up. "Yeah, ten out of twenty." His shoulders slumped, I grinned. "Ten out of ten."

Thomas snorted, "I knew you liked it. You're all smiley right now." I wish I could counter that one, truth was, my cheeks hurt from all the stretching. Speaking about stretching, he outstretched a hand for me. "Come on, we better get cracking. Your audition is at six, you want to make it there on time to be rejected." I graced him with a giggle.

***

I was in my white dress, make-up in place and ready to walk up to the Lovet agency and be sent away crying—only I'd be crying with joy. The agency was partnered with the brand design office. It was a massive building Giselle Harrington owned. The minute I set foot inside it, I could tell fashion was a must in every sense. The walls were lined with naked art—expensive naked art, there were people just gazing at them like this was a museum free of charge. As I followed the corridor leading to the receptionist lobby, I noted the pictures of old top-models, I could imagine many young aspiring models venerated them and knew all there was to know about their lives—diets, the cars they drove, guys they dated, the ones they dumped—the list was longer than my hair. When I finally reached the receptionist I felt like I'd walked a mile in my heels, my feet were killing me already, and I'd built quite the tolerance.

"Hi," I said at the front desk, ignoring the modern art adornments. "I'm here for the spring-fashion audition." I smiled not really putting much effort into it, I'd be out of here soon.

The woman was in her early-thirties or that was what she wanted people to think. The mascara was heavy, the same with thick and fake eyelashes—huh, I hated those, they stuck to my eyelids like crazy and it hurt like a bitch to take them off—the lipstick seemed to be the less vibrant thing about her. The scarf around her neck stuck out in a mix of white and yellow.

"Wait a minute please," she told me answering a phone, clicking quickly on a button. Then she did something on her computer and although it was fast it bored me to death. "Go up to the eleventh floor. Giselle's assistant will take you there after you give her your information." There was no 'good luck' or phony smile. Guess she was too busy. I didn't mind, though. I went happily on my way boarding one of the four elevators—Jesus, I think there was more transportation here than at hospitals.

I tuned in and out the elevator tune until I could escape from the inside. Once out, I was one step closer to ending the nightmare of possibly working for Thomas' Mom. The waiting room was ample, not at all like the skinny hallway where me and Thomas sat waiting for our turn to see Ms. Coleman. It was a round division, walls painted in a tasteful color—various to be honest. The color gradient went lighter as it reached the floor, red turned into fuchsia, then into a light pink making the brown leather couches much more alive. The ceiling was a giant mirror while the floor was pure black marble. I'd never seen a place like this...

Behind the metallic designed desk was woman with a tight pony tail, a suit-jacket with two clashing colors, a white top underneath. What was impossible to miss were the earrings, they were long, long enough to reach her shoulders—they were silver, I think. That could only be Giselle's assistant.

With a mighty intake breath, I marched up to her working spot.

"Hello," I greeted with a clear tone, the same I used around everyone else but Thomas. "I was sent here for the interview of spring collection?" Clarissa—the name-bar on her desk shone like an illuminated ray of sun—glanced at me long and hard.

"Are you sure?" she sounded confused. "I'm almost certain we received all the candidates—the ones who were called in." Her voice was slightly nasal, I wondered if her nose had ever been broken.

"Are you sure? My agent got a call saying I got accepted." I tried for my best worried-worry tone. I was afraid I'd screw things up and break into a smile.

Clarissa moved around a few folders in her desk, I easily recognized them as portfolios. She opened a few checking them over. She stopped at one.

"A girl who looked a lot like you came in... maybe we called you by mistake? It's not common but it happens. One of our informers might have gotten you two confused, you look similar." I was hoping she'd show me my nearly doppelganger's picture, I was a little curious to see who Thomas got to play me.

As Clarissa closed the thing I morphed my expression into the domain of devastated—maybe a little heartbroken.

"Really...?" I muttered holding my GUCCI. "I thought this was going to be my big break, I... I've been trying really hard." In my head I was praying that she sent me away fast.

Giselle's assistant remained still for a little while, only her fine-writing pen moved bobbing up and down on the desk's surface. Her eyes were skimming across me, if I didn't know any better I'd say she was undressing me, but I did know better. When someone looked you over like a fine piece of art in the fashion world it meant one thing: they liked what they saw. This didn't mean anything , she was just—Clarissa got up.

"Could you take one step back, maybe two?" her request made me back up on instinct, I wanted to run—not do as she said, I couldn't though. I had to go through with this. She was glaring at my legs like an archeologist who had just made the world's most famous discovery—it didn't waver when she took all of me in. I shrunk into the background, or I wish I could do it... "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Ava," I rasped, my voice fading quickly. "Ava Wellington."

Her mouth tipped for a second, I just had time to see her holding up her hand signaling me to stay rooted on spot before her other hand picked up the phone. Oh boy, that wasn't good... was it? I don't think they needed to call anyone to tell me to leave the building, unless she was paging security but I hadn't done anything, so it was highly improbable. I could barely keep the strength in my legs as I saw her lips moving, the words entered but didn't remain—I was too worried, shocked to know anything.

Lowering the phone, her hand gestured for a door on my left.

"Ava," she said as if testing out my name. "Giselle would like to see you."

"But... but I thought you didn't have my portfolio—that me being called in was a mistake." I could've shrieked if I didn't feel like I was going to pass out from lack of air.

"Yes, but I spoke to her about your appearance. She'd like to see you very much." She smiled letting me glimpse at a pair of bleached teeth.

My insides squealed like pigs being massacred. That door—that left door—was a swirl of evil tentacles, pulling me in, wanting to keep me hostage forever, still I had no choice but to go in.