A love story, that turns sour. Forgotten.

Includes, Harry, Niall, Liam, Louis and Zayn, but it's not about One Direction, their names are just awesome:)


3. Model Time

'Only 3 more hours!' I hear my agent, Julie tell me.

I collapse on the sofa, while Shannon, my make-up artist, rushes over to 'touch up' my makeup. Only it's never a touch up. It's always a half an hour job. I close my eyes, and feel my aching bones sigh in relief with a rest. I've pranced and posed for 7 hours now. I hear the clattering of rails as Emily, my stylist, skips over to get me into a new outfit. 

'So Abi...' Emily started, but trailed off as I opened my eyes and glared at her. My expression softened when I saw the hurt look on her face.

'Sorry Em, I'm just stressed' I tell her, giving her a smile. She grins back, and starts riffling through the railing of clothes. She eventually pulls off a teal dress, with a heart cut-out at the back. She finds some nude heels in her bag of shoes, and lays them down next to me.

'Hair down, curly, kay?' She tells Shannon, and runs out of the room. Shannon nods at the door and continues dabbing at my face. After finishing my hair and makeup, I wriggle into the dress, and slip into my heels.

'You look stunning babe' Shannon says. I grin at myself in the mirror, I do look nice. 

'Where's this dress from?' I ask her. 

'Gucci, duh, who's this shoot for? But listen, I think we can sneak it away.' Shannon tells me back, giggling. I stick my toungue out at her. She knows I wouldn't, no, couldn't, sneak it away. The guilt would eat me up. I look longingly down at the dress. Maybe, if I work hard, maybe I could get it. I bring my hand up to bite my nails as I always do when I'm thinking hard. Shannon swats my hand away, 

'I just painted those!' 

I force my hand back down to my side, and focus on my modelling. I need to do good, this is a big job for me. I walk out of the dressing room, and back into the room we're using for the next shoot. We're in a old sort of castle thing, but Gucci brought the things like the sofa and mirrors here, ready for us.

'Where do you want me?' I ask Mark, the photographer.

'Over there darling,' He says, pointing to a large, old window. 'If you stand next to it, looking out, it'll be wonderful!' 

I bounce over, wanting to keep my impression good. Mark might have some say at the Gucci headquarters, they might want me back. I lean against the wall, looking longingly out of the window, imagining the dress I was wearing was outside.

'Perfect darling, perfect!' Mark yells.

I move my hands up to the wall, next to my face, one finger on my lip.


More shots of the dress would be nice, I think to myself. I move directly in front of the mirror, turning my back to Mark, but turning my head round as far as it would go without me looking like I was straining, and opened my mouth a bit. I stared into the camera, making my eyes wide and bit my lip, trying to look seductive. 

'Okay hunny, we're looking exactly the same, but we're going outside!' Mark yells at me, already halfway out of the door. I sigh, and follow him out, watching him pick out a suitable spot.

'Here!' He yells, pointing at a flowerbed. 'Sit in between them!' 

Was he kidding? In this dress?! Oh well, I could always get a new one if I save up enough money from shoots. I sat down in the middle of them, and gent;y placed my hands on a flower. I looked up, I looked down. I smiled, I pouted. I tried to look sexy, I tried to look innocent. Finally, I heard the most satisfying thing somebody could of ever said.



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