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Maybe he would laugh at me. A shaved ice cart was a simple but, to me, profound dream. An omega like him, clearly doing well for himself. He had an amazing career and a beautiful home.
And here I was, an almost-broke alpha, begging for his money.
Talk about emasculating.
Or maybe I was holding onto too many outdated stereotypes.
By the time midnight rolled around, my house was spotless and my body was spent. My mind, however, had other plans.
I showered and lay in my bed as thoughts played roulette. Catastrophizing in the worst ways possible.
That night, I didn’t get one lick of sleep. Not one minute.
I got up and forced down a hot cup of coffee before taking yet another shower—this time to wake me up. Maybe the heat of the water would put some blush in my cheeks.
Because other than that, I looked like death warmed over.
Dark crescents hung below my eyes. My skin was dull and lifeless. My eyes were less white around the irises.
Perfect look for posing nude for a gorgeous omega. He’d wonder at my lack of professionalism.
I was up before the sun and paced the house, waiting for the right moment to leave. I put on some jeans and a white T-shirt and slipped flip-flops on my feet. Easy things to get off.
I stood by my front door and leaned my head against it. Going to model brought up more bad memories than good. Sure, I’d met some good, kind people in the business but, more than I wanted to admit, people were mean and out for money above all.
People were commodities to them.
The pressure to be a certain weight.
To have certain muscles be super-defined while eating virtually nothing.
They had to oil my skin on some shoots because I was eating so little fat that my skin was dull and lusterless.
Also, they would’ve probably oiled my skin anyway.
One look at my condition this morning, and Antoine might not want to paint me at all.
Who could blame him?
When I got in the car, a glance at the dash showed me I’d managed to linger in the bathroom dissing my appearance until I had made myself late.
Perfect.
Chapter Seven
Antoine
I nursed my second cup of coffee, the kitchen clock ticking away the minutes until seven and beyond. I had everything laid out to do the initial sketch in the living room where the light was similar to the dining room but there weren’t paintings stacked everywhere. I didn’t want my model or myself distracted by a mess.
The contractors drove down the driveway to the back, past the kitchen door, and I picked up the container of muffins and thermal carafe of coffee I had for them and went out back. I made them coffee every morning and had a cooler of water and iced teas for them as well. They were doing a great job and it also gave me an excuse to check up on them. A lot. And they put up with me. The night before, I had been restless and made muffins and cookies.
This morning, they were extra glad to see me when I gave them the coffee and treats. We still had quite a bit to go, but I could see that we were turning the corner. Adding a loft had been a big-time suck, but I could already see how glad I’d be to have it.
“The bathroom is almost done, Antoine,” the contractor said. “I think you’ll be pleased.” He led me in and showed me all the progress, and I told him how great it looked. By the time I headed for the house, it was nearly seven thirty, and I was starting to wonder if the alpha model was going to come at all. Perhaps he had realized that my home studio, the messy imperfect place that it was, was not worthy of his efforts. That underwear campaign he’d been a part of had no doubt been shot at an impressive studio with all the lights and crew that implied.
He had explained he’d moved here and that it had been a while since he’d done any modeling. And he had never sat for a portrait like this before. If he’d changed his mind, I would not hold him to the contract. But I would like to be informed so I could decide what to do next.
But as I reached the kitchen door, West came around the side of the house from the driveway, looking like pound shit. I mean, it was difficult for anyone as attractive as him to look bad, but whatever he’d been up to the night before, it did not leave him either paint or camera ready.
