“So,” she said with a teasing smirk, “how was it?”We settled onto her bed, whispering for over an hour.I didn't delve into the details, but I did my best to convey my feelings.Nothing I experienced could truly be put into words.Yet, I was certain that it was a moment I would never forget; no force on earth could erase that memory.Those were my convictions back then, before I knew life.
My dad picked me up before noon, and he seemed to be in good spirits.He asked about the sleepover and what we had done.I was becoming a good storyteller, sounding convincing as I imagined the events unfolding as if they had actually happened.
The images were so vivid that I found myself believing my own lies, as if I was living two different realities, both feeling completely real.Once home, I spotted my mom rummaging through the garage.I approached her to say hello.
“Hey, what are you looking for?”I asked, curious.
“Hi!Oh, it's nothing important.I used to have this amulet—a big blue stone from one of our trips.I always kept it in my studio, but I decided to pack it away.I know it sounds silly, but I really want that rock,” she explained, continuing her search.
It seemed trivial to go through all this trouble for a stone, but it meant a lot to her, so I decided to help.
“Do you have any idea where it might be?”I asked for a clue.
“I have no idea.It just vanished,” she replied, raising her hands in exasperation.We continued our search until I stumbled upon a box and opened it, taken aback by what I found.
“What's this?”I asked, keeping my distance from the box.My mom came over to see.
“Oh, I remember this,” she said with a nostalgic tone, pulling out a broken porcelain doll.“I couldn't bear to throw it away; you loved this doll so much.You carried it everywhere, even to school, even though it wasn't allowed.You hid it in your backpack,” she reminisced, admiring the old doll with its dirty blonde hair.I didn't feel any connection to it; it didn't feel like something I cherished in the past.I had no desire to even touch it.“It looked like you, you know,” my mom added.“It's a shame its face is all cracked.It was a lovely gift,” she continued.
“Who gave me that doll?”I asked, intrigued.
“You really don't remember?”my mom chuckled, but there was nothing in my mind—absolutely nothing.
“Honey, your lasagna is burning!”my dad shouted from the house.
“Oh no!I totally forgot!”my mom exclaimed, darting back toward the house and tossing the doll back into the box.I approached it, peering into its eyes as if searching for a reflection of myself.No memories or warm feelings emerged—only something dark and unsettling.I closed the box and put it away.
I poured nearly ten pages into my diary recounting the night I spent with Zane, determined to capture every detail so I wouldn't forget a single moment.The workings of my mind felt like a puzzle, and I didn't want to take any risks.In those pages, I also delved into the emotions I was feeling, which felt refreshingly new.I felt whole, as if a piece that had been missing was finally in place.My desire to spend more time with Zane was overwhelming; I had heard that each time would be even better than the last, and I couldn't fathom how that was possible since the first had already left me breathless.
When Monday rolled around, I spotted Zane at school, and we quickly made our way to our secret spot, dreaming up plans for our next adventure.But with my grounding still in place, it was a challenge; having Zane come over through the terrace felt like a monumental risk.
So, I made the bold decision to skip school one of the following days and visit Zane’s house, which I had yet to see.The anticipation was electric, and I could hardly wait, but timing seemed to conspire against us, and we ultimately couldn't meet.The photoshoot was set for Sunday, and Andrea had mentioned his excitement during his usual caffeine intake.
A week flew by, and my mom insisted on waking me at 8 AM that Sunday so I could wash my hair and get ready.The sun was shining brightly, and I couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement.Zane had begged me for some behind-the-scenes photos, and I promised I would deliver.Tomorrow, we planned to skip school and head to his house, and I was counting down the hours.
The morning was chaotic; my mom was constantly on the phone, juggling overlapping commitments that needed her attention.
We arrived at the studio around 11 AM, greeted by a friendly local makeup artist who flashed me a warm smile as we stepped inside.The space was filled with an array of at least ten outfits, including stunning dresses, skirts, and trousers.
The color palette was rich with bronzes, accented by shades of stone, evergreen, plum, and coral.Occasionally, there were vibrant pops of fuchsia and mustard yellow, along with gold appliqués paired with sapphire blue.Each piece was truly exquisite.I also noticed several pairs of heels, predominantly in gold.
The backdrop was either white or ivory, though it was difficult to tell under the dim lighting.Andrea was busy adjusting the lights, always dressed to the nines in spruce-colored trousers, a plaid baby-blue shirt, and caramel brown dress shoes that matched his belt.My mom was bustling around with her phone, and I couldn't quite figure out what she was up to.
The makeup artist beckoned me to sit down, her smile unwavering as she began applying makeup.
“Hey, our model is here!How are you feeling today?”Andrea approached me.
“I'm good, but a bit anxious.I'm not sure how to pose,” I confessed, feeling uncertain about my abilities.
“Don't worry, I'll guide you through it, and your mom will be close by to help,” he reassured me before heading off to find her.I felt a little more at ease.The makeup artist took nearly 40 minutes, and when I glanced in the mirror, I barely recognized myself.
It wasn't that I disliked the look—she was incredibly talented—but I felt older, like I was 25 instead of eighteen.I snapped a selfie and sent it to Zane, who quickly replied,“Hot and mine!”That made me smile.
Mom and Andrea emerged from the office, announcing that it was time to start.The makeup artist departed, and Andrea took his place behind the camera, while Mom, after helping me change in her office, settled into a chair to observe.The first few clicks echoed, catching me off guard as I blinked, unprepared for the flash.
“Don't worry, I'm just testing the lights,” Andrea assured me with a grin.Being in the spotlight was nerve-wracking, and despite their instructions, I struggled to relax into the poses.Andrea showed me a few shots, but I felt they lacked life.I could see my mom’s disappointment growing.We spent almost half an hour on the first outfit without capturing anything worthwhile.
Then Andrea had a lightbulb moment—he cranked up the music, playing tunes I loved.He noticed me glancing at my mom for reassurance and suggested she step away to her office.He encouraged me to dance to loosen up, and surprisingly, it worked.I felt myself relax and discover a side of me I hadn't known existed.I lost myself in the music, thinking of Zane, Rome, and what awaited tomorrow.
