Someone Exactly Like Me by Debbie Cromack

1

Destiny

Candi:Happy birthday! I’m so excited we’re going out tonight! Come to the studio around 5:00 and you can pick out a fun outfit to wear. No backing out. I love you. Mwah!

Crap, it’s my birthday. I’m dreading that I agreed to let Candi take me out. With her crazy schedule, she hasn’t been home for my birthday the last three years. Up until that time, we celebrated our birthdays together for as long as I can remember. Our celebrations have always been very different. My introverted self loves ordering sushi, eating cupcakes, and drinking hot cocoa while we curl up under blankets and watch movies until we fall asleep. For Candi’s birthday, it’s always party, party, party. While I don’t enjoy going out to nightclubs, drinking and dancing all night, I’d do anything for her. She’s my ride-or-die.

Me:Nope. No backing out. I’ll see you tonight. I love you bunches!

Thirty. Thirty years on this earth. I’ve had a pretty good life so far. Nothing awful and nothing fabulous. My parents love me, I love what I do for a living, and I have the best friend a girl could ask for.

My fingers rest, almost paralyzed, on my keyboard as I stare out the window at the waves crashing onto the shore and spilling across the sand. I’m desperate for inspiration to crash into my head and spill onto the blank page that’s taunting me. The cursor blinks relentlessly, provoking me.

The waves that used to practically sing love stories to me are useless right now. I can remember days of walking along the beach with my notebook, furiously scribbling down scenes as they popped into my head. And now…nothing. My last book was, by far, worse than the first book I ever wrote. Each word felt forced and the love scenes lacked passion. Passion? They were pathetic fizzles.

I had a pretty successful career for a while, but right now, I’m wondering if I’m going to be able to pay the rent on my little beach cottage next month. My book sales have plummeted over the last seven months and my savings account is dwindling quickly.

Being an indie author is a lot of work. Between self-editing, self-promoting, self-publishing, being active on social media to build your audience, creating a team of people to support you, writing newsletters, and everything else the do-it-yourself romance author has to do, finding time to write can feel impossible sometimes. And when you do have time, you pray for inspiration and the most wonderful love story to create itself in your brain.

So, here I sit, my mind blank, wallowing in self-pity.

Staring at this page won’t miraculously make a love story come out of me, so I make lunch and put on The Holiday. Maybe it’ll jolt some romance into me. I get all swoony for the character of Graham and love the scene where he, his girls, and Amanda are all lying in the girls’ tent in their bedroom. Oh, my heart.

Though I didn’t intend to watch the entire movie, what can I say, I got totally sucked in and did. After my laughs, my cries, and my hopeful romantic heart was tugged on, I get up from the sofa, put my lunch dishes in the dishwasher, and sit back down at my computer, determined to write. Words. I’ll take any and all words that come to me right now. Something, anything.

Placing my fingers on the keyboard, I start typing away. Click, click, click. I don’t quite know what I’m typing, I’m just trying to see what comes out. Several hundred words later, I take a swig of water from my glass water bottle and scroll up to read what I’ve written.

Crap. It’s total and utter crap.

Tap, tap, tap. Tappity-tap. My taps on the faded backspace key become more like a pounding. Ugh. I grab the mouse, select everything I’ve written, and hit the delete button. Whoosh. Gone. The blinking cursor torments me. Blink, blink, blink.

Irritated by the blank page that’s now mocking me, I grab my notebook and head to the beach. If nothing else, it’ll soothe me.

My stroll on the beach is exactly what I needed on my birthday. While inspiration doesn’t strike, breathing in the salt air that tousles my hair and feeling the warm sand seep between my toes is like a cozy blanket to my soul.

Several houses down from mine, there’s a woman and a little girl building a sandcastle. My mind wanders to when I was little and Mom and I built elaborate, multi-level sand castles with moats. I smile at the memory. We’d spend hours building them, only to have the waves wash them away. One time I asked her if I could live in a castle someday. She told me I could do anything I dreamed of. She’s always been my biggest supporter and my most devoted fan.

I check my phone and it’s time to head back home to get ready for the evening. I shower and shave, do my hair, and put on a little makeup. Even though Candi has tried for years to teach me how to do my makeup better, I’m just not great at it.

Candi always has tons of different outfits at her photography studio, and sometimes, when she’s in town, we play dress-up like when we were kids. Knowing she’ll be letting me wear something from her studio wardrobe, I throw on skinny jeans, a white T-shirt, and sneakers.

As usual, I’m ready early. I schedule my Uber and settle into the weathered white rocking chair on the front porch. Closing my eyes, I rock easily back and forth, letting the warm summer breeze caress me.

The Uber driver honks me out of my momentary escape from reality and I jump to my feet. The instant I get into his car, I’m uncomfortable. The smell of heavy cologne stings my nostrils and the way he turns around and glares at me is creepy.

“Be sure to strap in, little lady.” He doesn’t wink at me, but he may as well have. Heebie-jeebies crawl up my arms, meeting between my shoulder blades, then shooting up my neck to the base of my head.

Not being a big drinker, I’m usually the designated driver when Candi and I go out drinking. Those occasions are far less frequent now that we’re older. With it being my birthday, I figured I’d have a few drinks tonight. But right now, in this car with Mr. Creepyman, I’m regretting that decision.

He pulls up to Candi’s studio and I can’t get out of his car fast enough. I scurry into the studio as quietly as possible so I don’t disrupt Candi’s photo shoot. She’s incredibly talented and the most driven person I know. Her career exploded about three years ago and she now travels the world doing photo shoots with all kinds of famous people and iconic brands. It makes me so happy to see how successful she’s become. She’s worked extremely hard to get where she is.

From our appearance to our personalities, Candi and I are polar opposites. With her waist-long cotton-candy pink hair, her screaming-sexy body, exquisite Italian-Egyptian beauty, and flamboyant style, she could be a top model if she didn’t love being behind the camera so much. She’s sassy, confident, and doesn’t take shit from anyone. People are often surprised to learn we’re best friends.

One place we’re exactly the same, however, is our fierce loyalty to each other and our friendship.

She got crazy-lucky with her studio in that her uncle owned it and sold it to her for an ungodly low price. It’s a huge old warehouse with exposed brick walls. It has tons of space and Candi has loads of various styles of furniture and decor for setting up different scenes. Massive windows at the top of the brick walls filter in plenty of natural daylight.

Today she’s doing a shoot for Fendi. Fendi! Our lifestyles have become so different, but Candi remains unchanged by her success. She’s still the goofy-ass girl with a huge heart who’s been with me through all of life’s ups and downs. Every failed history test, every bad perm, and every heartbreaking relationship demise.

I sneak into her office and send a text to let her know I’m here. I know she keeps her phone on silent when she’s working and checks it during breaks. Within seconds, she whips around the corner through the open door.

I open my eyes wide and clench my teeth. “I’m sorry. I tried to be quiet.”

“What? No. You were. You’re fine.” She shakes her head as her words come out rapidly.

“What’s going on?” I ask as she pinches the bridge of her nose, her telltale sign that she’s stressed.

“Thank God you’re here.” She paces, pressing her fingers into her temples, then walks over to me. “I’m going to need your help,” she says, placing her hands around my shoulders. She’s already a couple inches taller than me and with 3-inch heels on, she looks like a giant.

“Of course. Whatever you need. I’m here. What’s happening?”

She releases me and fills me in quickly. “Gigi, she’s the other model, she’s running late.” She lets out an exasperated sigh. “She’s always late. I need to get this shoot in tonight because she leaves tomorrow and then she’s booked for another two months. And this project is due. I have to get it done.”

“Okay, tell me, what can I do to help?” I have no idea how I can possibly help in this situation, but I’m certainly willing to.

She takes my shoulders in her hands again. “I know this is totally out of your comfort zone, but I need you,” she says desperately as she releases me.

“Okay.” I shake my head and stretch out my palms toward her. “What? I’ll do it.”

“I need to test the lighting so as soon as she gets here, we can get the shots in.”

Seems like a no-brainer to me. “Okay, done. How can I help with that?”

“She’ll be wearing white so I need you to wear white and pose with the male model.”

“You want me to pose with someone?” Surprised by her request, my voice raises a bit.

“Yes. For the lighting. I need you both in the shot. He’s really nice. I’ve worked with him before. Actually, you know him.”

“I do?” She has me searching my mind as to what male model I would know because I don’t know any.

“Yeah. He’s from the movie that got you all hot and bothered.” Giving me a mischievous smile, she wiggles her brows at me.

My eyes widen and my face heats instantly as I take a small gasp of air. “You mean…”

She shoots me a devilish wink and shifts her gaze behind me.

I turn my body, following her gaze, and he’s walking toward me, oozing every droplet of sexiness he possessed in his role in the movie Don Matteo. Like I’m in some distorted time warp, he approaches me in slow motion and I swear I can see heat waves shimmering, emanating around him, filling the air.

His dark hair is glossed in place and his chocolate eyes melt me where I stand. Tidy two-day scruff hugs his strong jaw. With each step he takes, the temperature of my blood rises, heating my cheeks even more. Every stride of his long legs in sleek black dress pants synchronizes with the thumping of my heart. Add some dry ice smoke and the song “Coffee” by Hippie Sabotage and it would be a stinking movie scene. By the time he reaches me, the perfectly groomed dark hair dusting his toned bare chest meets me just above eye-level. With his open, crisp white shirt clinging to his broad shoulders, he towers above me and I almost fall over.

“Niccolo Mancini.” I breathe his name in a proper Italian accent as my body seizes in place and I look up into his gorgeous face.

Ho…ly…shit.

“I’m impressed.” His deep voice with its thick, Italian accent vibrates in my ears. “You pronounce it very well.” He chuckles.

My tongue is nonfunctional and all that comes out of my mouth is a bizarre, nervous giggle as I stumble back into Candi’s desk. Thankfully, the desk prevents me from falling backwards.

Reaching both of his massive hands out towards me, he wraps them around my arms. “Are you okay?”

No, I’m mortified and want to disappear into thin air.“Yes.” Another strange laugh weasels out of me as I tuck an unruly wisp of hair behind my ear. “I’m, I’m fine. Thank you.”

Candi chuckles from behind us. “Nicco, this is my best friend, Destiny.” She gestures her hand at me.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he pauses. “Destiny.” The way he says my name is so damn sexy. The man is sex. Everything about him exudes sex. Lowering his head, he leans toward me. What’s he doing? The scent of stale smoke drifts into my nostrils as he gently kisses my left cheek and then my right; a traditional Italian greeting. As he draws back, I try not to contort my face from the stench of cigarette smoke still lingering in my nose.

A nervous laugh huffs out of me. “Yes, it’s nice to meet you as well, Niccolo.”

“Please, my friends call me Nicco.” Finally releasing his grip from my arms, he takes a step back. “You’re going to help us, yes?”

“Huh?” Ever since I saw him in Don Matteo, I’ve been fantasizing about him and Candi knows it. Now she wants me to pose with him? I can’t believe she didn’t tell me he’s one of the models she’s shooting today. Not that she had to, but a little heads up would’ve been nice. I could’ve prepared myself to not be in shock and behaving like a weirdo.

“Until Gigi arrives, you’re going to help us, yes?”

“Oh, yes.” I nod, further processing the situation. “No.” I stammer as I shake my head and wiggle my finger back and forth.

“No? You’re not going to help us?” With a furrow etched in his forehead, he looks over at Candi, then returns his gaze to me.

“Well, your model…”

“Gigi. And not mine.” He smiles.

The sexiest man in the on earth is smiling at me. I think I may pass out. “Right, yes, Gigi.” I clap my hands together, so nervous I think I’m going to pee my pants. “She’s on her way. I’m sure she’ll be here soon.” My tongue behaves like it’s never been used before and my embarrassment continues to burn in my cheeks. “And you’ll be all set.” I try to plaster a polite smile on my face.

“Okay.” The pitch of his voice slides from low to high as he says it. He shifts away from me and looks at Candi, who gives him a nod. Pivoting, he walks out of her office.

As though detached from my body, my feet propel my body toward Candi. Her head is jetted forward and her arms shoot out to her sides, hands waving as if to shout, “What the fuck?”

“No.” I sharply whisper.

“Destiny.” Her voice is just as sharp, but she’s not whispering.

“Candi. No.” I cock my head to the side and wiggle my finger at her.

“Des. You said you’d help me. I need you.” Her pleading eyes are too much for me.

“Candice Alessandra Gamal.” A shit-eating grin spreads across her face as I use her full name. “You owe me.”

“I do.” She squeals and squeezes me.

When she lets go, I look her dead in the eyes. “Big time.”

“I do. I do.” She waggles her head as she holds my hands.

“How am I supposed to get through this?” The shy little girl inside me wants to hide in a corner right now.

“Mmm, I’ve got just the thing.” She opens the freezer on her mini fridge and pulls out a bottle of Patrón tequila, her favorite. Opening the glass door on the small fuchsia cabinet on top of the mini fridge, she takes out a shot glass, fills it to the top, and hands it to me. “What better way to start your birthday?” Her smile is playfully evil.

Though I know I’m going to regret it, I down the shot because I also know it’s the only way I’m going to get through a mock photo shoot with Niccolo Mancini. As the smooth liquid slides down my throat, my neck and face instinctively tighten and grimace as my tongue darts out of my mouth.

“Attractive.” Candi laughs. “Just don’t do that out there, okay?”

“Deal.”

“Tina will get you set up with an outfit. She always brings extra sizes and outfits so I’m sure she’ll have something that fits you.” She cages me in her arms and breathes a sigh. “Thank you.” Releasing me, she squeals. “Happy birthday.”

As I walk over to Tina, I catch Nicco’s gaze on me. I feel a little bad for being such a bumbling oaf and then telling him I wouldn’t help them. Candi heads toward him and I’m sure she’ll let him know I’ll be helping out after all.

Tina’s flipping through a bunch of dresses and jumpsuits on a clothing rack when I reach her. Candi must’ve already shared the plan with her about me standing in for the female model. She’s been with Candi for years and is a perfectionist at her job. I haven’t seen her in a year or two and spot a few gray hairs swirling through her tidy bun that’s secured with an eyeshadow brush.

“Still a size two?” she asks, briefly turning toward me to smile, then continuing to flip through the rack as her glasses slide a few centimeters farther down the slope of her pug nose.

“Yup.” Still as scrawny as ever.

“Oh this. This will be perfect.” Pulling a silky white jumpsuit from the rack, she holds it up to me and looks me up and down over the top of her glasses. “I’m going to put a little more makeup on you and grab some heels. Seven and a half?”

“Um, yes, but I don’t think I need the makeup. I’m just standing in.”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun though.” Taking her glasses off her face, she lets them dangle from the chain attached to each arm and grabs a sassy pair of white heels from another rack. Then she drags over a stool to the vanity where the bright lights must be illuminating every pore on my face. “Here, sit down. We’ve gotta be quick so we’ll just put a little on.”

I sit on the stool and raise my eyebrows at her as I smile. Moving her glasses from the shelf of her breasts, she secures them snugly against the bridge of her nose and tilts her head from side to side. A big grin spreads across her face. “Yup,” she says, then winks at me, saying nothing more. Before I know what she’s even doing, she’s put moderate false eyelashes on me, given me a slight smokey eye, and dabbed on a deep burgundy lipstick.

“Okay, now go throw this on. Be careful of your lips.” She hands me the jumpsuit and points me to the curtain of the dressing area.

I put on the jumpsuit and the silky fabric feels luxurious against my skin. I don’t wear clothes like this, but I’d love to. The plunge of the neckline is way lower than anything I’d wear and my non-existent cleavage certainly doesn’t fill the plunge. If that wasn’t enough to make me uncomfortable, there are thigh-high slits on the front of both legs. There’s no mirror in here so I can’t see the full effect of what’s going on, but I know I can’t walk out from behind this curtain.

Holding the curtain around my neck, I pop my head out. “Um, Tina? Do you have something, uh, a little less…”

“Revealing?” She finishes my thought. “No, dear. Not with me.” She gives me an understanding smile. “Come on out. Let’s see.”

“Um, give me a sec, okay?” I shrink back behind the curtain and try to find the guts to step out and let anyone see me in this getup. I don’t have the body or personality for an outfit like this. Candi would look sensational in it. Growing up, she blossomed into her body early, while puberty skipped me.

Before I can even try to plan an escape, Candi comes in with half a shot glass filled.

As soon as she sees me, she lets out a whistle. “Damn. You look fuckin’ hot,” she coos, handing me the shot glass. “You’re wearing this tonight.”

“I can’t wear this out.” I refute, adjusting the thin spaghetti strap on my shoulder.

“Oh, yes you can and you are.”

“I look ridiculous,” I say, downing the half-shot. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

“Okay, come on. Let’s get this moving along. We have a birthday to celebrate.” She grabs my hand and I follow her out and over to the setup where Nicco is standing and waiting.

The backdrop is a light and dark gray floral fabric and long strings of crystal baubles hang from above. A massive, 8-foot-tall mirror stands in the corner, it’s silver frame intricately carved and detailed with crystals and pearls. What looks like a refurbished vintage burgundy brocade chair sits in front of the mirror on a light gray shag carpet.

As we approach him, Nicco’s eyes are on me, a quick sweep from my feet to my face. His eyes blink and he pulls in his lips, then runs the barely visible tip of his tongue between his slightly parted lips. He must be holding back a laugh. I knew it. I do look ridiculous. Candi releases my hand and walks into her setup.

“Okay, we’re almost ready. Nicco.” She looks up at him. “I want you just a little bit shiny.” She grabs a bottle of oil from a nearby table.

Before I can say anything, she takes my hand in hers and squeezes a few drops of oil into my palm. I look down into my hand and then back up at her. She’s out of her mind if she thinks I’m going to rub my oil-covered hands on this sexy man’s chest.

No…freaking…way.

“Okay, you do this. I need to make a couple adjustments to my cameras.” She turns and walks away, leaving me standing there with a palm full of oil.

With my hand held open, I look up at him, pretty certain that the expression on my face reveals how terrified I am. I have no poker face.

“You look beautiful.” The baritone timbre of his voice shoots a shiver from the tail of my spine all the up to the base of my head.

Right, I look beautiful. As compared to the gorgeous, voluptuous women he’s surrounded by daily and probably has wild, passionate sex with. His playboy reputation precedes him. “You don’t have to mock me.”

He squints his eyes. “What does it mean, mock? I don’t know this word.”

I’m forgetting that English isn’t his first language. “It means to make fun of,” I say, looking down into my hands and rubbing the oil between my palms, trying desperately to avoid eye contact with him. “I’ll just, uh, try to warm this up a little for you.”

“Why do you say I’m making fun?”

I continue rubbing my hands and slow my pace, still avoiding his eyes. ”It’s just, well, you’re around beautiful women all the time. And…” I’m now rubbing my fingers together as my tongue twists around inside my mouth. “I’m not…”

In one gentle movement, he curls his large index finger under my chin and lifts my face toward his. Our eyes lock. I don’t move. A tiny gasp hitches deep in my chest.

“You are beautiful.” His reverence stuns me.

Two arms wrap around mine from behind me, grabbing and twisting my wrists. “It’s warm,” Candi says as she separates my hands and smacks them onto Nicco’s chest. I snap my head toward her as she walks away saying, “Let’s go.”

Oh God, oh God, oh God. ”I’m, I’m sorry.” I look back up into his smokey eyes.

“It’s okay.”

Returning my gaze to his chest, I lift my hands from his warm skin and delicately swirl the oil around with my fingertips. I’m living inside a fantasy right now. Then I start patting his chest with my hands like I’m patting a baby’s bottom. Though part of me wants to be doing just about anything but this, I’m also incredibly aroused. I can’t believe I’m touching his chest right now. I’m trying so hard to ignore the sensual visions from his movie that are invading my thoughts.

“I think you need to rub it in,” he says, placing both of his large hands on top of mine, dwarfing them, and rubbing our combined hands in circles on his hard chest, erect nipples, and down his tight, rippling abs. Whether his intention is to help me feel less uncomfortable or to turn me on, I have no idea, but right now my mind is racing with wild and dirty thoughts and my salivary glands are in overdrive. My heart thumps in my ears.

He would be an amazing muse for one of my romance novels. I write scenes like this in my books, but I’ve never experienced one. Holy hell, this is hot. My sex life has been pretty standard, I guess. Okay, kind of boring. And recently, non-existent. But that’s why I write the stories I write. I write about the kind of love that doesn’t exist and the kind of passion people like me only ever read about, dream about, or see in movies. That kind of passion isn’t real. It hasn’t been for me anyway.

I need to get a grip on myself. This sure will feed some fantasies and inspiration though.

“Okay.” Candi’s voice breaks the hot moment. “Let’s do this so we can go party.” She hands me a wet towel.

I wipe my hands on it and offer it to Nicco. Taking the towel, he wipes his. “Thank you for your help.” I don’t know why, but with his playboy reputation, I keep expecting the delivery of his words to be dripping with insincerity, but it’s quite the opposite.

He hands the towel to Roy, one of Candi’s assistants, and Candi starts giving us instructions on where she wants us. She has Nicco stand behind the chair and tells me to sit in it. As soon as I sit, my legs slide out between the two high slits of silky material. I quickly try to figure out a way to drape the material over my legs but it’s not working. The thin pieces of fabric drop between my legs, leaving them exposed.

“No, no,” Candi says. “Leave it like that, it’s perfect.”

I look up at Nicco and see him watching me, expressionless and professional, as I flounder.

“Beautiful. Open your knees a little, Des. Don’t worry, we can’t see anything.” The tequila is definitely kicking in because I do as she says and spread my knees wider. “Okay, I like that, Des. Now I want you to keep looking up at Nicco and lean back in the chair. Rest your left arm on the arm of the chair and your right arm by your side.”

My nerves settle a little more and I do as she instructs. The clicking snaps of her camera echo in my ears.

“Now, Nicco, I want you to come around here to the side of Destiny and squat down. You’re going to look directly into her eyes and I want your hand on her inner thigh. Just delicately rest it there.”

What the hell is Candi doing to me right now?

Nicco places his hand gently on my inner thigh and I flinch a little.

“Is this okay?” he asks my permission which I didn’t expect.

I take a stalled breath. “Yes, it’s okay.”

More snaps from Candi’s camera. Nicco’s gaze holds my eyes captive.

“Slide your hand a little higher for me Nicco. Roy, shift the key light to the left about six inches.”

Keeping his eyes locked on mine, Nicco moves his hand higher up my thigh. My chest rises and falls as my breathing speeds up.

“Good, Nicco. A little higher. I want to see desire in your eyes.”

As he glides his hand even farther up my inner thigh, I feel wetness between my legs.

“Yes. Nice.” Click, click.

Without further direction from Candi, he inches just a little higher. My breath hitches in my chest, my knees responsively spread a little more.

“I love this.” Click, click, click. “Okay. Now I want you both standing.”

Nicco breaks our gaze, stands, and reaches out his hand to help me up. Between the adrenaline rush and the tequila, I’m a touch dizzy and lose my balance. He wraps his hands around my waist to steady me and heat blazes through my body.

“Are you okay?” His eyebrows draw together and concern washes his handsome face.

“Yes. I’m okay. Thank you.” Holding onto his muscular arms, I try to slow my breathing and keep my knees from buckling beneath me.

“Let’s move the chair.” Candi motions to Roy and he moves the chair. “I want you standing in front of the mirror.” She approaches us, positioning Nicco and then ushering me into the side of his body. “Nicco, I want your hand around her lower back and Des, I want your hand on Nicco’s chest. Then look at each other.”

We assume our positions and touching his chest again has my blood heating. I can’t believe I’m in his strong arms, staring into his sultry eyes with his lips only inches from mine.

“This is for perfume guys. I want passion, desire. Nicco, pull her in closer for me.”

He tightens his grip around my waist, sealing my body against his. Candi wants desire? Yup, desire is definitely what’s pulsing through me right now. I could swear I hear a growl under his breath.

“I’m here.” A female voice announces, shattering the moment.

We look over at the devastatingly gorgeous woman who entered the studio.

“Gigi, finally.” I know Candi’s doing her best to stifle her frustration and be professional.

Nicco still has his arm around me and he turns my face to meet his. “You did great. Thank you again for your help. I know you didn’t want to.”

“I, well.” I lift my hand from his chest and step back, causing him to loosen his grip. “Candi’s my best friend and, she needed my help, so…”

“Still, I want to thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I tuck my hair behind my ear and walk into the area behind the lights.

A flurry of activity ensues and Gigi comes out of the dressing area in a different white jumpsuit than mine, filling it extraordinarily well. Her body has curves in all the right places, her flawless olive skin is perfectly tanned, and her facial features are exquisite. She’s sheer perfection and drips sexiness.

Sauntering over to me, she introduces herself. “Hello, I’m Giovanna. Thank you for stepping in to help with lighting while I was delayed,” she says, stroking her long dark hair and looking at Nicco.

I guess I’m supposed to call her Giovanna and not Gigi. “I’m Destiny. You’re welcome.” Standing next to her, I feel like a curveless toothpick wearing a potato sack.

“Okay, let’s do this.” With her camera in her hand, Candi motions for Giovanna to sit in the chair where I was sitting minutes ago, gazing into the most seductive eyes I’ve ever seen.

Hiding in the shadows behind the light fixtures, I watch Nicco and Giovanna entangle themselves while Candi snaps her camera. The most absurd twinge of jealousy snarls inside me. They’ll probably have sex tonight.

After about ten minutes, I can’t watch anymore. I quietly sneak off to Candi’s office and snuggle into her plush, oversized, fuchsia chair. Closing my eyes, I let my mind return to the steamy moments I shared with Nicco. Inspiration smashes into me out of nowhere and I quickly grab a notepad and pen from Candi’s desk. I’m scribbling so fast to keep up with the scenes racing through my head.

Several hours later, I hear clapping and Candi’s voice shout, “That’s a wrap!” Within seconds, she’s in her office.

“Okay birthday girl, get up, it’s time to celebrate.” She holds out her hand, which I grab, and yanks me out of the cozy chair. “Whatcha writing there?” She eyes the notepad and gets her purse. “Did inspiration hit?”

I nod vigorously and know I’m smiling like a kid.

“That’s great. I know you’ve been in a slump.” Though the words sting, she’s not wrong and I know she says them with sympathy.

“Yeah, it felt so good. A bunch of scenes came rushing at me and I wrote them down as fast as I could.”

“Des, that’s so great.” Her eyes sparkle with delight.

“Hey, what was that back there?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what the hell were you doing to me? Having us all — you know.” I twist my arms and legs around each other and bug my eyes out.

“What? That’s my job. That’s what I do. Besides, I know you’re hot for him and have been fantasizing about him ever since you saw that movie. I just gave you the experience of a lifetime.” She shrugs her shoulders up and down a few times, playfully teasing me.

“Um, yeah, you sure did. And why didn’t you tell me he was the one you were photographing today?” I park my hands on my hips.

“I don’t know. I just didn’t think of it.” She loops her purse onto her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go. They’re probably waiting for us.”

I drop my hands to my sides. “Who’s probably waiting for us?”

“I invited Nicco, Gigi, and the crew to join us. You don’t mind, do you?”

My entire body tightens. “You mean he’s coming?”

“Do you not want me to come?” From behind me, Nicco’s deep, raspy voice climbs the length of my spine, startling me.

Shit.I turn to see him standing in the doorway of Candi’s office. “Yes, yes of course I do.” No, no I really don’t.

“They’ll give us a ride, then we only have to Uber back to your house later.”

“Great.” I grit my teeth behind my smile as I rip out the pages from Candi’s notepad and tuck them in my purse.