The Model Spy

Chapter 9 - The Tour de Paris

Dylan met me by the stark-white canvas. This time the bench was missing, leaving me with nothing to work with. As if that even helped the first time, though.

"I have the pictures from yesterday." He handed me one printed on glossy paper. "How do you like them?"

Like he said, it was me sitting on the bench pouting as it rained. The park background was added digitally. A couple walked hand-in-hand behind me, sharing an umbrella. A little boy played in the puddles to my left. I could tell my skin was heavily edited. There was no way it was that perfect.

Overall, the picture was ok, I guessed. But what pose would I do today? I couldn’t pout when I was supposed to be at the Eiffel Tower. Unless Dylan made it digitally rain again.

Zach came to my side. "Do you mind if I watch?" He eyed Dylan harshly.

"No, not at all, mate," Dylan said stiffly, making no secret that Zach’s hatred for him was returned.

I minded. For over an hour I struggled to get the poses to Dylan’s liking. I could tell he was being patient, but his kindness could only last so long. Even Zach’s amusement at my complete ineptitude waned after thirty minutes. His attention refocused on the dessert table.

"Shoot, I'm out of film," Dylan said, though I could tell he was thankful for the short break.

"You wouldn't be if I were just doing it the right way," I sighed.

"No, love, you're doing great," he comforted me. "I'm just waiting for the one that pops!" With that evident lie, he scurried across the room to gather more film.

"Love, you're doing bloody awful!" Zach imitated Dylan's accent as he popped another mini éclair into his mouth.

"At least I'm doing something besides packing on the pounds." I smacked his stomach with the back of my hand. Instantly I drew my hand near and nursed it. Despite the sweets, his stomach was definitely harder than I had thought. Zach smirked.

Before I even had time to rest, Dylan was back. "Okay, let's continue!" He was so peppy. If I hadn’t have been so tired, it would have been adorable.

"This would be a whole lot easier if I actually had a setting to work with," I mumbled. How cheap was this agency? I never imagined a white bed sheet and smelly clothing as my only things to work with.

Dylan threw his arm around my shoulder. "Just act like you did the first time you saw the Eiffel Tower," he said.

"I’ve never seen it. Not up-close anyway," I informed him.

His jaw dropped. "You mean to tell me that you haven't seen the Eiffel Tower and you've been in Paris longer than thirty minutes?"

I nodded numbly.

"I have an idea." He grabbed my hand. "Let's shoot at the tower. That way, your reaction will be totally realistic." He grabbed his camera bag off of a nearby table. "Let's go!"

"Now?" Was he even allowed to do that?

"No time better than the present," Dylan said as he dragged me out of the room.

"I don't think-" I started as he pulled me by my arm roughly down the stairs.

He kept going, taking the stairs two at a time. "Be adventurous!"

"Wait!" Zach called after us. He followed us down the staircase. This clearly wasn’t his plan.

"You don't have to come. I assure you she'll be safe with me." Dylan gave him a friendly pat on the back.

"Are you sure it's okay, Emma?" Zach stared at me. I could’ve sworn his head shook “no” ever so slightly.

I wasn’t sure what to do. But one look at Dylan prompted me to make up my mind. He waited patiently, his green eyes watching my every move, a hopeful smile pulling at his pink lips. His fingers fidgeted with the stylish navy scarf around his neck. He was so handsome.