The Love Interest

Chapter 4

It wasn't until after the hair appointment my makeup agent coerced me to endure, that I remembered that I had the series poster franchise photoshoot scheduled for this afternoon. My hair was a little lighter than it was before, a tad shy of being completely blonde, with tendrils of darkened blonde, along with layers. I've never had layers in my life.

Since the signing of the contract, i've been through various lab rat testings for diseases, and health issues, that I most definitely do not have (though I should've put a request for them to test Eden for mono). Speaking of diseases, I should be completely immune to anything right now considering the diet I was assigned by my acting health and fitness coach. It consists of various immunity shots and juice cleanses twice a month. I've been on it for a few weeks now, and I'm starting to realize why Eden is so irritable all the time: no sugar or carbs- except I'm allowed to have a cheat day on Sundays.

The sacrifice better be worth it.

The character description of Elowen Adair was something else. I know I mentioned that I was drawn towards her character because of how similar our dynamic was, but I also liked the parts of her that wasn't me. The parts where she goes to parties, lives in an estate, and knows how to use a left hook. If anything, I'm just grateful she doesn't have a bland personality. I've heard she's quite witty, and she knows just the perfect comedic timing. And apparently, she knows how to pull an obnoxiously "handsome" school boy, who has an immediate infatuation with her. It's going to be entertaining to see Eden on his knees for me- vicariously, of course. I'm kind of glad it's a trope where he falls first because I wouldn't be able to stand having to openly pine for him before he does for me.

Now, I'm supposed to dress up like Elowen Adair, snuggle up close to that same irrit, and pretend to enjoy his presence whilst being bamboozled with flashes of actual photography. This could very well be classified as child abuse- except I'm not a child anymore.

"Don't touch that."

I jerked my hand backwards at the scorching feeling in the palm of my hand. I'd just picked up a curling iron, completely heated up, and Harlow witnessed that very feeble moment of weakness between me and my intrusive thoughts.

I smile up at her, slightly embarrassed, but also as an attempt to hide the sizzling burning of my skin. "Oh, hey."

"Hey?" She repeats in disbelief. "You just wrapped your whole hand around that. It's over 450°, smart ass."

I shoot her another meek smile before shoving my hand into the pockets of my bathrobe, never to be seen again. "You here to dress me up?"

"Like a buttercup." She pulls a dress out of a steam cleaner bag, yielding it in front of me proudly, but the first thing I notice is that it's short.

It's a strapless tube dress, and I can visibly tell it'll be tight. An absolute vile thing to wear, though who's to say I have the choice? It was burgundy, in fact, and the torso part of it had boning in the corset lines, probably as a waist cinch. "Did you design that?"

She gives me a flat out look. A disappointed one, that is. "No. Dior did."

"Christian Dior?"

Her mouth drawls up into a lopsided smirk, one I could watch all day because how satisfying it is to see her gums on display like that. "You're in the acting industry now, and you haven't done your homework on fashion?"

"I've been too busy teaching myself detachment." I reply honestly, tugging at the curlers in my hair.

"Oh really? And how's that going?"

I roll my eyes exhaustively. "Not well. A cute boy smiled at me the other day and I began to fantasize about how our babies would look."

She scrunched her nose up disgust, wrinkling the chocolate colored skin around her eyes. "Oh, Genevieve. Maybe you should consider a job that requires less intimacy."