Impulse

3. Frustration

senirasushipping — because no one ever fell in love gracefully

***

It's Elesa. The Elesa. I'm not one to get starstruck, but...

Oh, who am I kidding? Here I am, shaking hands with the biggest name in the fashion world. I've never been so starstruck in my life.

"It's so amazing to meet you!" I tell her. "I'm Candice. Love your work."

As she says her thanks, I can only imagine what lies ahead. We're going to be great friends, I just know it. Maybe she'll even let me tag along to a photo shoot while I'm here.

This retreat is getting crazier by the minute. Who'd have thought I'd run into a supermodel? It's almost enough to make me forget that I'd be on the Ferris wheel in Volkner's arms by now if it weren't for Elesa and her gym.

Almost.

"Volkner." He introduces himself in a single word, and his gaze lingers on her for longer than I can handle. "I like what you've done with the place."

"Glad to hear it. I designed it myself."

Life is so unfair. Some people are good at everything.

"Makes my gym look like crap." He laughs dryly, and I cross my arms in annoyance. When Volkner saw my gym for the first time, all he said was, "Aren't you cold?"

"So you're a Gym Leader." She flashes him her trademark megawatt smile—the same one I've seen on three different magazine covers this month alone. "I like you already."

A surge of jealousy courses through me, but I force myself to relax. Everyone knows girls like Elesa are always attached to pro athletes or A-list actors or rock stars. I've got nothing to worry about.

But that's not what she told that reporter on The Fashion Show last week. "I'm single as a Wingull," she quipped, to the collective groan of everyone everywhere.

Forget what I said about making friends and going to photo shoots. I hate her.

"From Sinnoh. So's Candice." Volkner doesn't seem the least bit fazed by her fame. In fact, the way he's carrying on, you'd think he'd never even heard of Elesa.

Which, knowing him, is probably about right. "You have no idea who you're talking to," I ask, "do you?"

"Why, have we met before?"

I knew he'd say something like that. Now she just needs to take it like the diva she is, and he'll be so turned off that even her state-of-the-art gym won't be enough to make up for it.

"Elesa's the top model of top models." It's what all the fashion blogs are calling her these days, and it comes out with more resentment than I intend. "Funny he hasn't heard of you," I can't resist adding, with a smug glance in her direction.

"I do some modeling in my spare time," she explains indifferently. Which doesn't help me at all.

"That's great." Volkner brushes off the news like it's nothing. "But honestly, I'm a lot more interested in your gym."

"Really?" Elesa's face has lit up in a big way. Needless to say, this is not going as planned.

"I'd give anything for a match here. If you're not too busy working the runway, that is."

"Oh, I'm sure I can fit you in somewhere." She's on to her second-most famous smile now—the one she uses for racier shoots and lingerie ads.

I don't believe this. Five minutes and they're flirting like crazy.