Hate can turn into love

Chapter 46

"I don't know what you are trying to get me to do."

I'm entirely at a loss right now. I stare at the guy in front of me with confusion in my eyes, my eyebrows creased as I try and figure out what it is that he needs.

I had just finished getting the guys ready for their photo shoot when the director had come up to me. He had literally just stopped what he was doing as he passed me, the clipboard in his hands almost falling to the floor. He had done a double take and stopped to stare at me, his eyes looking me from top to bottom over and over again until I grew really uncomfortable.

I am still uncomfortable under his intense gaze. It's not perverted or anything, but it still unsettles me. He has been sizing me up as if I was some celebrity that he was put in charge of for the day. I feel as if he is looking at all of my imperfections and picking them out one by one.

"One of our models called in sick, but I have a really important photo shoot with a male model for a famous celebrity magazine. Would you be willing to fill in for her?"

My eyes widen in shock. He wants me to fill in for a model in a photo shoot? But I'm not pretty enough. What if I disgust the male model so much that he refuses to do the shoot with me? He doesn't even wait for an answer, him snapping his fingers twice in the air. I watch in awe as three female stylists come up to me and herd me away, my feet stumbling as I try and catch up. This has all happened so fast.

I am sat down in a chair, them immediately working on my hair and makeup. They wipe the makeup I already had on off, starting over with a fresh layer of foundation. They brush this translucent powder over the liquid foundation, it making my skin look poor-less and practically airbrushed. They then contour my face and add highlight and concealer, something that I have never even taken the time to learn how to do. They don't put any eyeshadow on me, instead doing a fierce cat eyeliner look with fake-looking eyelashes.

My hair is teased and combed until it has volume, the hair stylist then using a curling wand to create loose-looking curls. They cascade down my shoulders and back, it parted down the middle to frame my face beautifully. The makeup artist finishes my look by putting on a deep red lip stick on my lips, not a single splotch of color out of place at all. My full lips look even fuller, my usual pout more than obvious with the added color.

I am hurried to the back room where they get my outfit ready. To my utmost embarrassment, I decided to wear a thong today with my black leggings. They instruct me to strip while they help my adjust my outfit, me trying to keep my backside to the wall the whole time. By the time they are finished, not even the special foundation is able to hide my extreme blush.

The shorts I am wearing are really short and tight, the hem barely covering my ass at all. The black belt that is on my waist is entirely for decoration, it not even tightened all the way. My pockets rest on my thighs due to how short the actual shorts are, lotion added to my legs to make them shine and sparkle in the light. The dark grey shirt that they gave me to wear does nothing to cover my stomach, at least five inches of my stomach on display. The fabric clings to my figure, making my waist look a lot smaller than I have ever seen it.

The last thing that they do is give me my shoes. They are also a dark grey, the color matching my shirt almost impeccably. They make me taller than I actually am, the heels making my feet arch painfully. I hate wearing heels because they always hurt my feet after the first twenty or so minutes. They are also a safety hazard when it comes to me. I always end up tripping over something before I have the chance to take them off.

"Ok, places everyone!"

I am basically pushed out of the dressing room over to where the pictures are being taken, my eyes locking on to the male model I am supposed to be shooting this with. He doesn't have a shirt on, his jeans hanging dangerously low on his hips. I blush and look away in fear that he will catch me staring at him, my gaze locking instead with Jimin's. He glances down at what I am wearing before looking at the guy sitting next to the director, his gaze hardening.

He stalks over and grabs my hand before pulling me over to the two men, his large strides making it hard to stay with him. He looks absolutely livid with anger as he stops in front of the director, his chest rising and falling with ever harsh breath.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The director, whom I have yet to find out the name of, looks up in shock. He looks me over with approval in his eyes before glancing over at Jimin.

"What do you mean?"

Jimin scoffs, rolling his eyes as he crosses his arms across his chest.

"Why is she dressed like this?"

"Oh, I needed her to be in this photo shoot with our model Nate for an important celebrity magazine" is his reply as he motions to the model sitting next to him. Jimin levels the ferocity of his gaze onto the poor guy, his glare making Nate gulp nervously. He eyes his bare chest before shaking his head, his hold on my hand tightening.

"There is no way I'm letting her be in a photo shoot with him."

The director looks so distressed. I can only imagine the internal struggle. A need to put his pictures in a famous magazine against the need to meet the Kpop idol's demands. He throws his hands up in disbelief, his face growing red.

"We don't have any other female or male models here today! Who do you expect her to shoot with?"

He steps forward, dropping my hand so that he can stand face to face with the director.

"Me."