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I stare at her and blink.
"I'm just saying you're going to have to learn the angles a bit better and capture the lighting a bit better and maybe figure out some filters."
"So you want me to make them look fake?"
"I want you to make them look good, at least if you want those big tips."
I nod slowly. "I guess so. Maybe you're right."
"Trust me, girl, I'm right. I cannot believe that I'm even giving you tips for this job because..."
"Because what?" I say, staring her.
"Nothing. I promised you before that I'm going to be supportive of your endeavors. And I am. But do you really need all these multiple jobs, girl? You have a good day job."
I stare at her. "The day job is fine and it pays well, that is true. But one: I don't know how long I'm going to be able to work there without either quitting or being fired. And two: it doesn't pay me enough to pay off all my debts and save a lot of money for my trip."
"Okay," she says. "I get it."
"And you know how important it is for me to take this around-the-world trip. I've dreamed about it all my life. I want to see different cultures and experience different things and…"
"And guess what?" she says. "You can make it a working vacation."
"Huh?" I say, staring at her.
"I mean, you could be an unofficial photographer anywhere in the world."
I look at her for a couple of seconds and think for a few seconds. My heart is racing as I process her words. "Really?"
"I'm just saying," she says. "In case you run out of money. Here." She hands me the face mask and we both start laughing.
"I have no clue what I'm doing."
Chapter Eight
Kingston
I wake up hard and horny, and I picture Skye's face in my mind. I groan as I rub my forehead and roll out of bed.
"You're the last person I want to be thinking about," I mutter under my breath as I head to the bathroom to splash my face with water.
I stretch my arms and look at my reflection in the mirror and shake my head yet again. I'm still tired. I drank way too much the night before, and all I can think about is how I wondered how Skye could not possibly have known that the dude she was flirting with was gay.
Get a clue, girl. I think to myself as I smile.
I head back to the bedroom and grab my phone and I see that Remington has messaged me. I call him.
"Yo, what's up dude?" he says, answering within a couple of rings.
"Not much. Why are you blowing up my phone on a Saturday morning?"
"I wanted to know if you wanted to hit the gym, do some bench presses, and?—"
"Uh, not at five o'clock in the morning, and I was out last night."
"I was out last night too, but I woke up early."
"Okay, good for you."
