Page 31 of Pretend To Be Mine

“Okay,” I said, my voice small.

“First, let’s work on basic posture.” He moved toward me, and I immediately tensed. “See? That. That’s what we need to fix. You can’t lock up every time someone approaches you. No one is going to hurt you. Stop acting like you’re about to be beat.”

“I’m not—” But I was. I absolutely was.

For the next hour, they put me through my paces. Stand here, no, shift your weight, no, not like that. Smile, but don’t show your teeth, actually show some teeth, now you look manic. Hands at your sides, no that’s too stiff, on your hips, no that’s too aggressive.

I felt like a puppet with tangled strings.

Natasha demonstrated a proper runway walk and wanted me to imitate it. “Hips forward, shoulders back, one foot directly in front of the other, chin slightly lifted.”

She made it look effortless, gliding down the makeshift runway like she was floating.

“Your turn,” Sebastian said.

I tried. I really did. But halfway down the runway, I forgot which foot was supposed to go where, overcompensated, and nearly tripped over my own feet.

“Okay, maybe we skip the runway walk for now,” Sebastian said diplomatically. “You shouldn’t be required to do that anyway. But it’s good to have done it at least once.”

They changed the music because Simone said I wasn’t vibing with it, whatever the hell that meant. They put on something upbeat and poppy that was supposed to make me feel energetic. It just made me more aware of how awkward I was moving to the beat.

They changed the lighting, thinking it would make me more comfortable.

Nope.

They put me in different dresses, different styles, trying to find something that would make me feel more confident. Nothing worked. Never mind two women with perfect bodies had seen me in my underwear. There was no shame.

Through it all, Adrian watched. He stood off to the side with his arms crossed, his dark eyes tracking my every move. It was like trying to perform with a spotlight burning into me.

“Elizabeth, relax your shoulders,” he called out.

I tried. They went up higher.

“No, like this.” He crossed to me and grabbed my shoulders, pressing them down. His touch was firm but not rough. Every nerve ending in my body lit up like a Christmas tree. “There. See how that feels different?”

I couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe. He was so close I could smell his cologne. It was woodsy and warm. Chocolate and spice. I couldn’t decipher it but when he cleared his throat, I was quickly reminded I wasn’t there to smell him.

“Now, let’s try the arm placement again.” He took my wrist, lifting my arm and positioning it just so. His fingers were warm against my skin.

“Better,” he said, stepping back to assess. “But you’re still too rigid through your core. Here.”

He placed his hands on my hips, adjusting my stance. I nearly whimpered. It was torture. Beautiful, confusing torture.

“Tilt your chin up. No, too much. Here.” His hand cupped my jaw, tilting my face to the angle he wanted.

My eyes met his. For a second, neither of us moved. His thumb rested just below my lower lip. I could feel the warmth of his palm against my cheek. His eyes were so dark, almost black in the studio lighting, and they were looking at me with an intensity that made my knees weak. And dammit, I was turned on. I tried to close my thighs tight to stop the reaction that was completely involuntary.

Then he stepped back abruptly. “Good. Hold that position.”

But I couldn’t. The moment he wasn’t touching me, I forgot what position I was supposed to be holding. I was pretty sure I’d forgotten how to exist in my own body.

This was a disaster.

“Let’s take five,” Adrian said, his jaw tight. “Elizabeth, stay loose. We’ll try again in a few minutes.”

He walked away, pulling out his phone. I sagged with relief and disappointment in equal measure.

Sebastian sidled up beside me. “You know, you’re actually making this harder than it needs to be.”