T H I R T E E N
"Aunt Dev?" I called as I knocked on her bedroom door.
When she didn't answer after the first time, I knocked more obnoxiously, "I know you're in there!" I sang.
The door swung open and she raised a brow when we she saw me.
"Callan," she greeted, "Why are we being obnoxious at seven in the morning?"
I sighed, walking into her room and flopping on her bed, "B-Because I'm having a crisis."
I paused, "You look pretty, Devy, that's a nice colour on you," I smiled; she wore a white long-sleeved blouse and a cream coloured, knee-length skirt.
"Thank you, Callie," she fastened her watch on her wrist, "What's the crisis?"
I sighed exaggeratedly, "I d-don't know what to wear."
"You don't know what to wear?" she repeated, raising a brow.
I nodded and then huffed, "I don't know what to w-wear. There is absolutely nothing in my closet. I just," I flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, "I don't know."
I did know.
"Hang on a second," she said, walking into her large closet.
I closed my eyes sighing; I had the photo shoot for the new collection this morning, as well as interviews for two separate magazines. I had been feeling increasingly anxious since my therapist cancelled last night's session. I wanted to feel confident and put together and I knew that finding something good to wear would help with that.
I would be running around for a large part of the morning, but then I had to speak with the representatives from the magazines and take some pictures for their spreads afterwards. Most of the models that had been casted weren't necessarily models by profession; most people had applied online, or had been chosen through their blogs or presence in the media. This was good for multiple reasons: people could see the new items on a variety of different types of bodies and find a face they could relate to in the campaign, and, it was great way to advertise products through people.
There were a handful of models from agencies that were going to be at the shoot as well; I had to pick whom I wanted to photograph the remaining pieces with.
Today was going to be a lot of work, but I had no doubt it would be rewarding when all of the pieces launched and I got to see the final pictures.
The problem though, was how much worse my anxiety seemed to be getting with each second that passed.
I wanted to look good for my interviews and pictures, and I wanted to feel confident in a room where everyone had professionally done makeup, hair, and just looked overall stunning in the studio lights.
I scrunched my nose, opening my eyes and sitting up.
I also wanted to look good because...he was going to be there.
Shut up, Callan.
I groaned just as Aunt Dev walked back into the room.
"Callan this is the first time you've been worried about an outfit," Aunt Dev said, raising a brow at me.
"That's not t-true," I mumbled, looking away.
"Very convincing," she said sarcastically, and then cleared her throat, "Something you want to talk about Cal?"
YOU ARE READING
Jakob Laurent was an intensely quiet, no-nonsense type of man. Callan Grant was a sweet, slightly eccentric, small-business owner. ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ Callan needed to take some extra security precautions, but she could have never predicted that it would co...