Leila
My dad would smack me on the back of my head for saying this, but my god, I do not miss New York.
My dad moved here when he was twenty and fell in love with the city. Although I wish I was like him in every way, I do not feel the same way. New York was my home growing up, but I’m so glad to be done with it.
But being back here is rewarding in a way. It’s always great seeing my favorite front desk lady who grins as soon as she sees me approaching. “Leila!” Her eyebrows shoot up at the sight of me. “I’m so happy to see you.”
“Lilly!” I mock, approaching her desk. “I know,” I sigh. “I miss you.”
She smiles, looking down at her computer. “Max is still setting things up. I’m sure he’ll love to see you.”
Max is one of the best photographers I’ve worked with. Kind too, which is hard to find in this line of work.
I pull out a little Sephora bag and prop it on her desk. Her eyes drop to the bag, then back at me. My shoulders lift in a shrug. “I had extras,” I lie. “I need someone to get it off my hands.” I push the bag towards her, noting how her eyes track the movement. “Do you want it?”
Her eyes hood, trying hard to keep her bright pink lips pursed, but she ultimately fails, a smile growing on her face. “Leila,” she scolds. “We both know you did not have extras.” Her head dips to look inside the bag and her eyes widen. “Oh my. Is that the new lipstick I’ve been seeing everywhere?” Her hand dips inside, picking up the small tube. “Maybe I can take it off your hands,” she says, lifting her eyes to look at me before she admires the rest of the products.
I laugh. “You’re welcome,” I say. “Do you know if any of the other girls are here yet?”
She rolls her eyes. “You know they like to be fashionably late,” she tells me, opening one of the perfume boxes. “They’ll probably all come together giggling in about thirty minutes.” She sprays the mini bottle, taking a whiff. Her eyes roll back as she inhales. “Seriously, Leila. You’re the best.”
“I had extras, that’s all.” I shrug.
“Right.” She scoffs.
I laugh. “You deserve it.” I shoot her a smile, admiring how she goes crazy for all the crap these companies give me.
She clutches the perfume bottle to her chest, smiles at me and shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re a Godsend. Honestly.”
I wave my hand. “Stop. You’re going to make my ego even bigger,” I joke.
She laughs, setting the bag underneath her desk. “Have fun,” she says.
“I’ll try.” I smile before heading into the elevator. My agent has been begging me to book this gig, I didn’t have many other choices, so I said yes. So far, it’s been fun, but knowing that soon I’m going to have to stand in little to nothing in front of the camera makes my heart race.
The elevator doors open with a ding and I blow out a breath, painting a smile on my face. I take less than two steps when a tap on my shoulder has me turning around. My smile instantly grows when I see who it is.
“Leila,” Lucas says, smiling at me. “God, where have you been?” His arms open, pulling me in for a hug. This guy has been a solid in my life for so long, one of the best people I have met.
I shrug, letting out a laugh. “Not all of us are famous models like you, I’ve been in college.”
It’s hard balancing college and modeling, especially when my agency is in New York. Being able to take time away and catch a flight is nearly impossible. It’s helped that I haven’t had many jobs lined up. Either a blessing or a curse, depending on how you want to look at it.
He pulls back, rolls his eyes. “I’m not famous.”
I let out a scoff. “Sure.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Listen, I haven’t really had a chance to talk to you with all the… press,” he starts, avoiding my eyes.
“You mean the scandals,” I joke.
He shakes his head, letting out a laugh. “You know how they can be.”
“Ruthless,” I finish for him. Some of the headlines about him don’t really paint the best picture, but come on, with that perfectly styled hair of his, and those big brown eyes, what else would you expect?
We’ve been friends for the longest time. We were signed to the same modeling agency, and he was the one and only friend I had when we would do shoots, but Lucas outgrew our agency and now is a very well-known model.
He’s very attractive, and the fact that he’s Brazilian makes it the cherry on top. The frown on his face makes me wonder if he’s really that upset about the headlines, but it isn’t a big deal. It’s impossible to go anywhere without girls swooning the moment he enters the building, it’s expected that he reciprocates.
“Anyway,” Lucas says with a shake of his head. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something. I know you’re a private person, and I respect that, but Adriana won’t stop hounding me for your number. I told her I didn’t have it, but she insists that I’m lying. Too smart for her own good.”
My heart warms at the mention of my favorite little girl. She’s the kindest, sweetest soul I’ve ever met.
“She’s uh…” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s been having some problems with kids at school and I thought,” he shrugs, “I thought you could help her. Maybe give her some advice or…” He shakes his head, blowing out a breath. “I don’t know what to do,” he admits.
I feel my heart break for that little girl. I know exactly what she’s going through, having to put up with comments about her body and having kids laugh in her face. Kids are assholes. The pain wracking through my body must be written all over my face because he’s quick to add, “She’ll be fine, Leila. She’s strong, but I don’t have any experience with this kind of stuff, and I remember how you handled it, and I thought you would be a good choice.”
How I handled it.
He means how I handled the fact that I was bullied on set by the other models. He means when they removed the food from the table so I wouldn’t eat because ‘I had already eaten enough to last me a lifetime.’ He means when they would make pig noises whenever I walked by.
Only he doesn’t know that I didn’t handle it well. At all.
To him, maybe it didn’t seem that way since I kept to myself, ignored them and tried to not let it affect me, but when the shoot was over, I shut myself in my room with a whole box of Oreos and binged while I cried. The whole night.
Nobody knows that I’m weak though. They don’t know that I don’t have control over my emotions, even though it seems like the complete opposite.
And the fact that Adriana is getting bullied breaks my heart for her, for me, for every little chubby girl who had to grow up and hate her body.
I can’t even count how many times I grabbed a pair of scissors and wished I could cut my body, mar myself to fit in, to look good. To love myself.
I blow out a breath, feeling my heart race and the tears threaten to spill over. “Yeah,” I say, giving him a smile. “I can do that.” I reach into my bag and pull out my phone.
His eyes widen. “Seriously?” he asks, pulling out his phone. “I know it’s a lot to ask, Leila.”
“It’s okay,” I say shaking my head. “This trumps any dumb reasoning I may have.”
“It’s not dumb. You have a right to want to keep your life private.”
I scoff. “Kind of impossible to do when I’m a model.” A plus-size model, I want to add. The distinction is very important. People think that because my career is in the public eye, they have a right to judge me, to comment on my body, my face, my hair, whatever the hell they decide that week.
I take his phone from him, inputting Adriana’s number in my phone, jolting when I hear the elevator ding behind me and the room fills with laughter and murmurs.
“Your best friends are here,” Lucas whispers, grinning like an idiot.
I narrow my eyes at him. “Funny,” I deadpan.
He snickers, grabbing his phone back. “Thank you, Leila. Seriously.”
“No problem.” I give him a smile. He pulls me in for a hug, and I wrap my arms around him, squeezing him.
“Oh my god, is that Lucas Silva?” I hear whispers behind me.
I pull back and smirk at Lucas, knowing he heard that too. “Don’t start,” he scolds.
I hold my hands up. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” I definitely was.
“Right,” he says with an eye roll. “I should probably get going before I’m raided by fangirls.”
He presses his lips to my cheek and turns around, walking into the elevator. As soon as the door closes, the questions come in.
“Was that Lucas Silva?” Jennifer asks me. Her blue eyes trailing down my body as she assesses me.
I nod, giving her a tight-lipped smile.
“How do you know him?” she asks.
I shrug. “We’re friends.”
Her brows knit, her face scrunching as she looks up at me. “Really?”
“Yes,” I say, with a straight face. I walk away, heading into the studio where Max is crouched down, setting up the studio.
“You know,” I hear behind me. “I’ve heard stories about Lucas.” I turn my head, raising my eyebrows at the blonde who just doesn’t want to leave me alone today.
“His usual girls aren’t really, you know…” Her eyes scan my body once more. Did she not get a good enough look last time? “You’re not his usual type.”
Can I slap her?
I force a smile on my face, hoping it somehow kills her instead. “Like I said, we’re just friends.” I turn my head back around before she can say anything else, and I hear heels tap on the floor in the opposite direction.
“You were right.” I shoot Max a smile when I approach him. “That was the best wine I have ever had.”
He laughs, clutching a hand to his chest. “I told you. Did you share it with your friends at least?” he asks, lifting himself off the floor.
My lips twitch. The bottle of wine he gave me last time we worked together was gone in a day. Rosie twisted her nose at it, Madi had two glasses, and Gabi and I devoured the rest. “Barely.”
He nods, lips twitching. “Marcel was adamant France had the best wine, but as soon as he tasted real Italian wine, that shut him right up.”
“How is Marcel?”
He groans, waving a hand. “Good. Busy with Macy.” My eyes soften at the mention of Max’s adorable baby. God, just looking at her makes my ovaries cry. “I see the look on your face,” he says pointing a finger at me. “Don’t get any ideas. Changing diapers is not fun.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “Got it.” I take a step back onto the backdrop. “Where do you want me?” I ask.
He shuffles his hand, directing me to the left and then calls in the other girls. They all line up, adjusting themselves where Max tells them to go.
I feel a nudge to my elbow. “Is it true?” Amina asks, her dark brown eyes widening as she looks up at me. “You’re dating Lucas Silva?”
Good god. “Who told you that?”
She gestures with her head to Jennifer who’s standing front and center. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter to myself.
“So, is it true?” Amina asks again once the flash has gone off. “It’s not like you to keep this from me.”
I sigh, taking a minute to adjust to the next pose. “No,” I mutter, trying not to move my head. “She saw us hugging and apparently ran with it.”
Amina laughs. “That girl is dripping in jealousy.”
“Beautiful,” Max shouts at us, the flash going off once again.
“He’s a close friend,” I tell her. “Nothing more.”
She scoffs. “That man is so fine. Can’t really judge her for being jealous.”
“That’s a wrap.”
I exhale all the air in my body, smiling at Amina when the shoot is over. “You ready?” she asks. “Next shoot is the big one.”
I swallow down the urge to puke, forcing a smile. “Of course.”
Her eyes hood. “You don’t have to lie to me,” she says. “We’re the only big girls here.” A laugh escapes me at how bluntly she puts it. “I know how you’re feeling but you can’t let it stop you.”
I sigh. “I don’t know how I feel about it all.”
She nods. “I get it, I mean when I told my boyfriend, he was worried about what people would say but do you know what I told him?”
“What?”
“I said why do I have to feel anxious about showing my body when they do it every day?” She waves a hand. “So they’re skinny.” She shrugs. “We’re hotter.”
I give her a push, a laugh bubbling out of me. “You’re not nervous at all?” I ask her, admiring how at ease she is with all of this. People expect me to be confident every single day of the week and act like all the negativity doesn’t affect me, but it’s not that easy.
I have spent the better part of my life hating my body and spending every birthday wish on being skinny. It’s hard to just let it go overnight, it takes time.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m ever going to get there. If one day I’m going to wake up and be completely in love with myself, if every time I look in the mirror, I don’t scan for imperfections and things I wish I could change. I hope so.
She grabs a handful of chips, dropping one by one in her mouth. My stomach cries at me. Shit, when was the last time I ate? I make myself look away from the food and focus on Amina.
“Why should I be? People are going to talk shit whether I’m fully clothed or half-naked regardless.” Damn. When she puts it like that. “You want some?” she asks. My instinct takes over, my head shaking before I can even decide if I wanted some or not. She eyes me carefully but shrugs it off, dropping the rest of the chips in her mouth.
“So how’s college going?” she asks, sitting down on the couch.
I drop onto the seat beside her, rolling my eyes. “I don’t know how I put up with it every day.”
She laughs. “Best thing I did was drop out. No responsibility and no headaches.”
I bite my lip. I don’t know if I could do that. I love going to classes, having something to do.
“But I do miss the parties,” she says.
“Yeah.” I let out a laugh. “They’re not so bad.”
