The Sweetest Summer

Chapter Thirty - Four - You Should Be Sad

One Year Later

Paris was for lovers. At least that's what I'd heard these past four hundred and fifty days. From the media, from the tourists on the streets, and from my very own roommates. I'd tried it a couple of times. A one night stand in one case, and a few date stint with another. Both French and nice enough, but they weren't quite right. Neither of them brought me to life like Eli had, or destroyed me like he had either. They both had just been...nice.

"Mike has a friend from New York who's coming to my show tomorrow. You should meet him. He's really cute..." Rox (short for Roxanne) Reid suggested from above her single piece of wheat toast for breakfast. She was perpetually dieting, and perpetually trying to set me up. Rox was from Houston, but was currently dating a New Yorker she met at a local coffee shop with a chance run in. The kind of shit you see in a rom com.

"Mmmmm...." I mumbled noncommittally, eating my egg whites. My own diet had severely changed after moving here. The Parisians believed in smoking in excess and eating sparingly. Both qualities were exemplified in my other rail-thin blonde roommate, Chantel (no last name), born and raised here in Paris.

I'd secretly thought the way I could count her ribs was a little unhealthy, but the runway groups loved it. She was already booked in several shows at fashion week this week. A feat I still had yet to crack. Apparently prominent fashion houses and big boobs didn't mix.

"Leave her alone." Chantel laughed. "Not everyone wants boring fucking monogamy." She lit another cigarette near our picture window.

"Not everyone wants a different guy every night either." Rox shot back and I held up a hand.

"Will you both stop fighting over what my vagina wants?"

"Someone has got to..." Fiona Harrington, my British roommate and possibly the prettiest of us all teased from her bedroom.

"Gee, not you too Fi." I groaned.

"You know I'm only kidding, love." She kissed my cheek swiftly and stole a bite of my eggs.

"Hey! Make your own breakfast!" I slapped at her hand.

"Can't, I don't have enough time. I'm supposed to be in makeup at Fendi in twenty." She grabbed her jacket off the rack in the middle of our small living room.

"I didn't know you booked it! Congrats!" I hugged her and she hugged me back.

"Any word from Alexander Wang yet?" She asked, pulling her plaid scarf closer around her bony shoulders. October in Paris had proven to be much colder than Malibu. I was glad I had my snow boots and slightly worn army green jacket.

Fiona, however, looked much more glamorous in her black leather coat above her black skinny jeans. She was my height with straight black hair and the most alluring ice blue eyes. A stark contrast to my blonde hair and tan skin, Chantel's sleek blonde bob and sharp pale features, and Rox's ebony dark skin and tight spiral curls. We were all beautiful in different ways. Ways that allured to different designers - my roommates more than myself.

They'd each booked several Paris fashion week shows along with ad campaigns and makeup ads. Whereas, I had yet to book one.

The Dior job had paid well, but they decided to go in a 'different direction' after only a few months. Following that, everyone else had told me I was too fat, or my boobs were too big, or my runway walk was 'all wrong' despite hours of lessons. I was sure Franc was getting fed up with my lack of success and the money from the Dior makeup job was beginning to run out. Living in Paris wasn't exactly cheap.