Rescued By Your Love

// This is a part of my life that I will never be able to forget. Even now, as I close my eyes and inhale the deep scent of chocolate orange cocoa, the snowflakes compressing on the window ledge, a thick woolly blanket wrapped around my shoulders and the radiator reflecting the heat of my heart, even the vestige of a kiss on my lips. Lips that I could never imagine would kiss mine. His lips. This is how he rescued me. Rescued me from my flaws and hurt ~ from an eating disorder. // ~ Marie McBeanie


11. Models

His eyes caught mine for a fraction of time. Before I knew what I was doing, my hand was fully extended in front of me. My eyes inspected his face, waiting until his eyes found their way up the length of my body. His own hands paced mine, a rush of heat ran through my veins like an electrical current. His hands were firm but relaxed, his fingers caressing my skin, giving them a soft weightless feel. 

Consciously, I felt myself taking a step towards him. As I did, I felt fingers move along my spine. Tingles paralysed me momentarily as his hand found my waist, gently but in a way that excited me; I had never been touched this way before. Mr. Malik kept his hand on my waist as he looked over at Skylar who dropped her gaze of awe. A look came across his face, not the same smirk that easily presented itself, not lust exactly but close enough to make my cheeks warm - he obviously enjoyed her visually...

"Finally," His sharp voice broke the silence that had passed in the last few seconds "I meet the lady on the other side, Miss. Smith" Her piercing blue eyes scanned his as he lightly squeezed her shoulder. His hand smoothed more tightly around my waist, somewhat relaxing me. The small caresses were too easy for him, the atmosphere was still quite business like, only seeming to be what a gentleman would do.

"The photogr--" Skylar barely uttered as she was cut off by Mr.Malik, her light eyebrows ruffling in confusion. I guess that it never really dawned at me that an acquaintance has a large canvas of two strangers that, until now he had only rediscovered, or discovered, in Skylars case, their existence. 

"It might seem strange, you don't even know my name" he looks directly into my eyes, his dark orbs reflecting a deep sadness that causes him to look away. Does he remember mine? "but" we have his full attention as he formulates a response. His husky morning voice was deep and almost cracking. Skylars eyes met mine. I raised an eyebrow subtily, not knowing how much Mr. Malik would notice from above me.He must have noticed as he changed his tone, slipping his hand away from me. The heat froze as the space between us filled."There will be no explanation now" his voice was cold, his eyes suddenly indifferent and unconcerned.


Mr.Malik notified us that there would be two stages of the interview left. The first one was the inspiration room, showing us what attracted attention and was essential for success in the other stages as we would have to interpret the inspiration into a chosen medium. This is where Skylar and I split our separate paths as I took photography as my medium as Skylar chose fine art. Although she had never taken the subject in secondary school level, I knew she would be better equipped than I could ever be; photography was different.

The part that was the most daunting was that I do not know the insecurities of each person, which could be reflected in how they view it. I wouldn't want to offend anyone unintentionally. Plus, I wanted this job more than anything. Another problem that I had encountered was that I didn't particularly pay much attention to the room of inspiration, apart from the small painting that I was forbidden to touch. The most horrific part of the experience was that after I had selected a camera from the large, shelf filled, line of SLR and other digital cameras, I almost gained confidence until I caught his eye at the wrong time.

Slipping through the black doors, a man, about Maliks age, scanned the room and momentarily met my eyes, a small grin stretching across his face. What was this smirking thing about? As his face relaxed and he leaned to whisper something into Maliks ear, he appeared more attractive, his lips moving hypnotically, occasionally wetting them whenever he bit his bottom lip. 

He was dressed more casually than everyone else in the building, with a cool and friendly look about him but with such a defined rock style that shouted heartbreaker. He wore a plain black T, the short sleeves rolled with design, matching black skinny jeans with silver chains on his right side and casual black Docs that made me jealous. He was hot. His green eyes met mine for the second time and he ran his fingers through his large mass of chocolate curls before saying audibly "What about Marina? She would make her up well" his voice was mesmerising and his eyes paced my body in sync with Mr.Malik.

"She's not the model,Hazza" Malik corrects, "She's the photographer" my eyes trial the floor embarrassed as the unexpected words come. 

"Today, I might try the role of the model" his eyes were sharp as the grabbed a stool and sat directly onto it without hesitation.

"Do your thing".



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