“Wow. That must be so hard for her. Is she okay? Is she seeking help? Should we set up a GoFundMe, or—”
“Fine,” he said. “She’s awful. But it was short notice, okay? I told you, I don’t really take girls out. And all of the friendly models I know were busy.”
“Wait, what? There are more? How? Where do you even find them?”
His cheeks turned the slightest bit pink.
“What?” I said.
“Nothing.”
“Mm. Not nothing. Tell me where you find them.”
“It’s...”
“Now, Tyler. We’re friends, remember? This is part of the deal. I ask, you tell.”
He rolled his eyes. “So, I guess there’s a modeling agency in this building around the corner from me? And, I don’t know, sometimes I like to work at the coffee shop next door.”
“And you just... talk to them?”
He shook his head no.
“They just... talk to you?”
“They ask me about my tattoos, Katie. They touch them.”
“No! Oh my god! How!? Act it out! Show me!”
He scooted a seat closer, then pretended to type. “I’m working on a manuscript,” he explained, his hands still floating over imaginary keys. A batter was announced, and the crowd booed.
“Right,” I said.
“Now, you walk in, looking very serious and tousled and better than everyone else.”
“As I am wont to do.”
He nodded. “As you are wont to do.”
“And then what?”
“And then, while you’re in line, you catch my eye. Just for a second. It’s quick.”
I tucked my hair behind my ears, sucked in my cheeks, and glanced at him for a blink. Just before I looked away, he stared right at me, kind of smiled ever so slightly, then glanced back into his pretend laptop.
“Like that?” I said.
“Just like that.” He typed for a beat. “Now, you walk past me.”
“Is that a logical route?”
“No,” he said. “But you’re a model, remember? The rules don’t apply.”
“Right,” I said. “So I walk past you, holding my coffee cup, and I say...”
“You say, ‘I like your tattoos.’?”
I raised an eyebrow and said, “I like your tattoos.”
