Model Perfect

Chapter 8: Are We on a Date?

Embarrassed! That's the only word to describe how I am feeling at this moment. My hair is sticky from the fizzy foam of Tanya's spiked lemonade. She's ruined the silver halter dress that Model Perfect had me wear. I know I saw cameras and phones landing on me at that party.

My phone beeps and buzzes with the sounds of a thousand judgmental comments. I open it and my cat fight has already gone viral with the title, "Model Perfect's Imperfect Princess Accepts a Modeling Challenge While Getting Baptized by Lemonde." I read a few of the comments.

"That b***h deserved a lemonade to her head."

"She totally did. She didn't support Hunter or attend open auditions."

"That dress would have looked better on Tanya."

"Tanya is way hotter. I hope Model Perfect replaces Emma soon."

"Hunter, your girlfriend is fat."

On and on the comments continue. Their harsh words feel like an arrow to my heart. I am a deer who has been hit by a hunter and will soon face the end of my life or in my case my modeling career. They don't know this, but I am a person with true deep feelings. Just because I am semi-famous doesn't mean that I don't have a tear to shed. And that's what my eyes want to do. They want to collect my thoughts and turn them into water.

The emojis on the video are just as cruel. The laughing faces and heart buttons get the most hits.There are thousands of likes and the video has already been shared more times than I can count. How is that even fair or possible? It just happened less than an hour ago. News travels fast, the internet is forever, and gossip makes me want to disappear from my obligations.

Freddie's number lights up my phone. Model Perfect will yell at me for being a fool. I didn't ask for this to happen. To them bullying doesn't exist and anything bad that happens to me is someone else's fault. It's a hard truth, but one that exists within the industry.

"Emma, what the hell? You're a laughing stock. Why did you let Tanya Pennington of all people pour a drink all over you? We picked that dress for you to advertise that the party for our new fall collection. No one wants to wear lemonade pour over dress. They are call you the lemonade wonder. How are we supposed to recover from this? And since I have you on the phone. I have scheduled an appointment with your physician to have a biopsy performed on your thyroid. Emma, I am on your side. But if you don't get your act together, I am not sure what to tell my boss. You are on thin ice with the board. Try to keep your head above water and try to smile more dear, there are cameras everywhere."

"Yes, thanks, Freddie." I hang up. I have nothing to say to a lecturing Freddie. He is doing his job and being an ass at the same time. It's emotionally exhausting to try to keep up with the demands of Model Perfect, when no one will let me simply cry.

The tears become a storm. No one is around to film me crying. The only person who ever finds me isn't here. I look through the windows of the car, I've been it fog up with my cloud burst. A hand knocks on the door of Rosa's car. The door opens and it's Arlo Finch. He's found me and my emotions again. It's like I am on his radar and I matter somehow.

"Are you okay, Emma?" Arlo asks while holding a hand out to me.

I grab his hand and let him guide me out of the car. I'm not myself and I am not thinking clearly. If I were thinking clearly I wouldn't let Arlo Finch hold me in his arms while I cry. His arms around me are so comforting, even though they aren't the arms of the man the world wants me to date.

I don't answer his question. I show him the i********: video and let him read the comments.

"They hate me. They all hate me. I wish I never showed up at this party. Why are you here, Arlo?"

"Oh, I was going to hang with my friend Brad. But then I saw this foggy car and wanted to make sure whoever was in it is okay. I'm glad I stopped by. It turns out you needed my help again. I have an idea, I'm taking you out for dinner right now. What sounds good? Breakfast for dinner, do you want pancakes?"

Arlo's smile convinces me to leave the party. Rosa never came to find me. She probably went off with Jeremiah to some bedroom somewhere to make love or have passionate s*x. It is his house after all.

"Sure, can you get me out of here. This isn't actually my car."

"Sure, we can go in my car. It's not a new shiny lexus or anything like you might be used to."

I cross my arms and glare darts at Arlo's comment.

"I don't care if it's a rust bucket, get me the hell out of here." I follow Arlo to his car.

It's a pick up truck with photography gear everywhere.

"Do you have a photography business?" I ask.

"Well, kind of. I take senior pictures, do weddings, and family photos. The school has asked me to be their prom photographer. I haven't accepted yet. It would certainly look good on college applications."

"You'll be a great photographer some day. You're a lot nicer than the Model Perfect camera crew. Can we go to the Pancake Palace, Freddie would be upset if I ate that."

"You can wear one of my hats and my jacket if you don't want to be recognized."

"That might be for the best. Thanks for thinking of that."

"Or I can order pick-up and we can eat it at my house," Arlo offers. Going to someone else's house who doesn't have a swarm of party teens sounds like a safe haven.

"Sure, lets do that, if you don't mind."

Arlo's on his phone app ordering pick-up food. He hands me his phone and I order bacon, eggs, and hash browns. All the foods Model Perfect won't let me eat just sound good to me. Maybe Arlo is turning me into a rebel, or maybe he is forcing me to become myself again. Either way I like who I am when I am with him.

Arlo picks up the food. I wait in the car. Rosa texts me trying to find me.

Me: I had to leave something came up.

Rosa: Okay. I told my mom I am spending the night at your house. I hope that's okay.

Me: Have fun with Jeremiah.

Arlo comes in and sees the pout of my lip poking out. He pushes my lip back in with his hand.

"What's wrong?"

"My best friend is using me as an excuse to f**k her boyfriend."

"Speaking of boyfriends, where is yours?" For a moment I forgot all about Hunter.

"I don't want to talk about him. He and I aren't exactly the perfect couple that the world pretends us to be." Arlo hands me my food, and I place it on my lap.

We arrive at his house. It's early October and the crisp air is always refreshing here in Florida. Arlo gives me a change of clothes and helps wash my hair out with the hose on the side of his house. If my followers could see me now, they wouldn't approve. They would be as judgmental as they were for the lemonade baptism video.

Arlo's clothes are large on my body, but are keeping me warm. When I see the name Finch written on the hoodie, its when I realize that I am on a date. At some point, Arlo has bought food and is letting me use his clothes. That's something a boyfriend does, and Arlo isn't my boyfriend. It sure does feel nice to be treated like I'm worth something.

"Arlo, are we on a date?" I ask.

"Did you want to be?" He asks me, while handing me my breakfast dinner. I eat the whole thing as quickly as I can.

"If this were a real date, it's one of the best ones I've been on in a while. Thanks for the food."

"You're welcome. And yeah, we can call it a date. I won't tell if you won't." Arlo says, as he puts my plate to the side. He gets up from his chair and puts my hair behind my ear. When I close my eyes, Arlo plants a kiss on my cheek. It's a quick kiss, but it's gentle enough to make me want a little bit more. For a first sort of date, it's better than anything Hunter has ever done for me. And it makes me wonder if maybe even in it's smallest measurement if I deserve to be treated better than the way Hunter treats me.