These Four Words

“I really don’t have time for this,” I groaned trying to avoid the paps. I knew that they would be an issue but I never thought it would be this bad. I groaned once more pulling the Raybands down to cover my eyes. I was too tired and jet lagged to be dragged around Italy like a fancy little puppet.

“I am so jealous,” Vince told me excitedly. Vince was my one and only friend in Milan. I met him while interviewing a model for a show a few years back. The only reason we still keep in contact is because of him. I swear Vince was like a leach, in the best way possible of course. Vince always knew how to keep me on my toes.

“I’m not even a model!” I yelled annoyed as our driver tried to get closer to the club for the after party—that I was forced to go to. I still don't understand how these models and designers have the energy to party all night and then be up first thing in the morning for a show. I get to watch them all day and I am still exhausted. “I don’t understand why they care.”

“Because you work for Vogue.” Vince told me in his thick Italian accent. “Plus it doesn’t help that you are hot as fuck.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not a model.” I repeated.

“Regardless you better get use to this,” Vince turned to look at me with a knowing smile.

“Why?” I pulled out my phone half expecting a text or call from anyone. I was slightly disappointed when there was nothing. I locked my phone and put it back in my back pocket of my leather pants.

“Because you are a sensation already and you’ve only just scratched the surface of your career. You keep this up and you’ll be more famous than Anna herself.”

I frowned. “That isn’t what I want.”

Vince scoffed as we finally pulled up in the front of the club. “That is what everyone wants. Come on, we are here.” He quickly got out of the car to send the paps a smile and wave over extra security. Once the necessary number of guards was there to help me out of the car, I felt a strong hand yank me out of the smooth leather seats. I was slightly startled with how handsome this guy was. He was tall and built; you could see every muscle through his black suit. I instinctively gripped his bicep harder as he pulled me through the crowd.

“Miss?” His voice was rough through his thick Italian accent.

“Yes?” I asked a bit dazed and confused.

He gave me an amused look. “You can let go of me now, we are inside.” Only then did I notice that we were indeed in the club but that I also had a death grip on his arm. I let out a nervous chuckle and took a step back.

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Do not be.” He grinned. “It happens all the time. Buonanotte.” He leaned in and whispered before stalking off. I needed to snap out of it. I walked up to the bar and ordered my martini before a drunken blonde plopped down next to me. The bartender placed my drink down before fixing the blonde another drink without another word. I took a sip of the martini and smiled in satisfaction.

“Oh my god! I know you!” Her accent was hard to place. I turned towards the girl and raised my eyebrow slightly. She giggled and grabbed my hand and her drink before leading us through the club. “I want you to meet my friends!” She told me excitedly as she led us up to the second floor. The VIP bouncer took one look at us and then opened the velvet ropes.

“I’m sorry, how do you know me?” I asked cautiously when I noticed there weren’t many people in the VIP room.

“Ugh,” She groaned looking around. “They aren’t here. Come let’s sit! They should be back soon!” She pulled me down on the plush black couch.

“I don’t mean to be rude but how do yo—“

“You are Ophelia Taylor!”

My eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. I took in this girl’s appearance, long blonde hair, long legs, and a killer body. She had to be a model. “It’s actually Erin Taylor.”

“Duh—Silly me! I saw that announcement on the Vogue twitter! This sounds so cliché but I’m such a big fan!”

“Of me?” I asked trying not to sound too surprised. “A fashion writer.”

“Only the best.” She insisted. “Well second best, Anna will still be number one.”

“I’m sorry I have no idea who you are and I have no idea how you know me.”

She rolled her eyes in a playful manner. “I am Miranda Kerr.” It clicked how I knew her. I wrote her first high fashion review.

“Oh my gosh! I feel like an idiot!” I told her blushing. I ran my fingers through my dark locks before turning back to her. “How are you Miranda?”

She laughed. “I am doing swell. So I heard you got promoted.” She took a sip of her pink drink.

“I did.”

“How is it treating you?”

I groaned. “The paps haven’t left me alone since I’ve been here and I swear if one more person sticks their I-phone in my face for a snapchat, I will lose it.”

She giggled. “Tell me about it!” She looked behind me and her face lit up. “Oliver!” She waved excitedly. I turned around and noticed a fairly good-looking man walking our way. Miranda stood up to great him with a hug before tugging him down to sit next to us. “Oliver this is Erin, she is an amazing writer from Vogue. Erin this is my fiancé, Oliver.”

“It is nice to meet you, Erin.” Oliver glanced at me before returning his attention to Miranda with such affection. I took the last sip of my drink to cover up my growing jealously.

“So Erin, are you seeing anyone?” Miranda asked politely as she snuggled into Oliver’s chest.

“It’s very complicated.” I strained a laugh and Miranda looked at me knowingly. Her eyes glimmered with mischief before she turned to her fiancé.

“Hey babe,” She looked up to Oliver.

“Yes?”

“Can you go get us two more drinks?”

“Bu—“

“Please,” She purred grabbing my empty glass and forcing it into his open hands. Oliver sighed but got up with a promise to be right back. As soon as he left the loft area, Miranda turned towards me. “Spill.”

“I don’t know abou—“

“Come on! You can trust me! I just want to help.” She pouted and I gave in. What could I lose?

“So there are these two guys.”

“Ohhhh love triangle.”

“Yeah it really is because I love them both. I don’t know how to pick or even whom to pick. One I have way more history with but he seems like a different person. The other guy was fast, so fast that I still haven’t figured out if it was love or lust. The scary thing is that they are both friends! Or were. I don’t really know how their relationship is anymore. Gosh—it’s so fucked up. I feel like a band whore!” I rushed out. Miranda looked surprised but covered it up pretty quickly.

“I don’t know what to tell you because I’m sure you already know what I am going to say. The best advice I can give you is to follow your heart and your head. Do not stress about the little things because eventually they work themselves out. Trust your gut.” I nodded my head. "And I have seen more models around here sleep with a larger amount of 'band guys' so I wouldn't call yourself a band whore."

“You are right.”

“I always am,” She winked and Oliver re-appeared with two new drinks. I took my quickly and finished it in one sip. I didn’t have my life together but that didn’t mean I couldn’t have fun.