Following Isaac Read online

  That was a mostly true statement, but somewhere, way down deep inside me, I might have thought I'd have a chance with Isaac once I lost weight. I'd already considered the possibility of staging another chance meeting with him since I basically knew his travel plans through Instagram.

  That thought made me pick up my phone and open the app. You would know the very first photo on my feed was one posted by @newyork_nicky. I stared at it in nervous wonder. It was a black and white photograph of his glorious, shirtless upper body in what looked like the bathroom of his new hotel room. I smiled as I stared at it, thinking about the fact that those lips had touched my cheek. The caption said he was stoked to be in L.A., and I was thinking L.A. was stoked to have him here when I glanced up to see Greg holding his hand out for my phone.

  He glanced at it then up at me. "Seriously?" he asked. "That's the guy?"

  I nodded.

  "You're into tattoos like that?"

  "I took my phone from him. "Not really. I don't even see him for the tattoos. I just see an overall gorgeous package. The tattoos just happen to be a part of it. I mean, look at his face. It's like a perfectly sculpted work of art, complete with these brilliant green eyes that you can't even see in this picture. He's so gorgeous it's crazy. You can't help but be attracted to him. It's like a law of the universe or something."

  "Why's he called New York Nicky if his name's Isaac or Ethan or whatever you said?"

  "It's Isaac, and I don't know. He lives in New York, but I don't know about the Nicky part."

  "Well, I'm not entirely sure he's worth all the trouble, but you can have that thirty-day trial thing if you want it," he said. "It's over there on the catch-all by the door."

  Chapter 4

  Isaac

  My trip to L.A. was amazing. Shane and I were there for four days. The photographer was a guy named Alex Sanchez, and the campaign we were shooting was for a new Christian Dior fragrance. I'd never worked with him before, but the other models had and they told me going in that we'd have a lot of fun.

  There were four other models on the job, (three girls and one other guy) and we all got along well. I'd worked with one of the girls in the past. Her name was Carly Powell. I text her a little bit once I figured out we'd be working together, and she told me we were going to have the most fun we've ever had in our lives. She was fuckin' right. We worked for two days, shooting the campaign on a private stretch of coastline in Malibu. It was literally how I imagined paradise. I loved New York, but could seriously get used to life on the California coast.

  It helped that I was getting paid to hang out on the beach with a bunch of gorgeous girls. I'm not talking about just the models, either. There were sexy ladies everywhere. We had one for hair, makeup, wardrobe, and a few of them helping the photographer. Obviously, Los Angeles was crawling with beach babies, and I wasn't about to start complaining.

  We had a couple of productive days of shooting, and on the last day, Alex wanted to play with different lighting, so we started shooting in the afternoon and went on through sunset. He picked up on the chemistry I had with Carly. He knew it was just because we were acquainted with each other previously, but he paired us together for the sunset shots. She and I went into the ocean up to our knees so we could splash some water on ourselves, then made our way back to the ankle-deep water. He asked us if we'd be comfortable kissing, and we both agreed without hesitation. I'd kissed girls in pictures more times than I could count, and had no problem whatsoever with kissing Carly.

  He shot from the shore with the sun behind us. He did a few individual shots of all of the models before pairing Carly and I up. We kissed for about five minutes straight during the most beautiful part of the sunset. Alex and his assistants moved around us, fussing over our clothes and hair in an effort to land the perfect shot. Carly and I got along great and we had no problem turning it on for the camera. He took photos of the two of us for about ten minutes before the sun set and he called us back to the shore. Someone had built a huge bonfire a little ways down the beach, and the others had already made their way down there.

  "I want to get a few by the fire," Alex said, on our way to join the others, "but we'll be done for the night after that. Did you decide if you're gonna stay at the house?"

  It was a beautiful beach house owned by founder and CEO of one of the internet's largest retailers. It was his piece of beach we were standing on, and I honestly couldn't believe he offered to let the models use the house for the night. It was my last night in L.A. and it would have been foolish not to take him up on the offer. What could be better than partying on the beach before crashing in a billionaire's house? Of course we were staying. "Yes sir, Shane should be on his way with our bags…" I hesitated squinting past the fire to what looked like Shane's silhouette approaching. "That's my friend right there. He brought our bags and we'll just head to the airport tomorrow."

  "Phil said he needs you guys out of here by noon. Is that a problem?" He glanced at Carly and I, and we both shook our head. She hadn't come right out and said she was staying, but I assumed she was and saying she could be out by noon confirmed it. Shane and the rest of the crew stood back as Alex did about thirty minutes worth of shooting by the fire. Carly sat on my lap for most of it since that's what Alex told her to do. The stylist gave me a blanket, which I wrapped around my shoulders. Alex talked me through a few poses where I wrapped my arms and the blanket around Carly. Her hair was still damp from the one's we'd just taken on the beach. She was the perfect little beach baby, and she stared at me in the firelight as if she really liked me. I had no problem keeping it professional with models, but I had no problem sleeping with them either—if the circumstance was right.

  That's another reason I was glad Shane was there with me. He was an excellent wingman. The best. A true professional. He knew me well enough to know I didn't handle tears well, and took it upon himself to warn females about what they could expect.

  That's exactly what he did when he saw that Carly didn't get off my lap—even when Alex said his goodbyes and most of the crew left. Shane found a spot near us, and the first thing that came out of his mouth was, "Hey, you good if he doesn't get your number or anything after tonight?"

  Carly just stared at him with a confident half-smile. "He already has my number, but no, I don't expect him to use it." She cut her eyes at me. "I didn't say anything's happening tonight anyways."

  I shrugged innocently and looked at Shane.

  "I just assumed you might be sleeping in that house tonight, and I wanted to warn you that Isaac's not gonna call you or even remember your name in the morning."

  "Is that how it is?" Carly asked, looking at me with a perturbed smirk. "You just have your boy tell the ladies you're only in it for the night?"

  I scowled at Shane. "I didn't tell him to say that." It was part of the act. I loved it that he warned the ladies, but acted like I had no idea he'd say any of those things.

  "Listen," Shane said. "I'm the one who has to deal with him on the way home, and I don't do drama. I don't let him get into anything that's gonna require work for me, and dealing with a sad lady the day after definitely creates work for me."

  Carly gawked at Shane like she couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth, and then she looked at me, still slack-jawed. I took my finger and closed her mouth and she smiled. She scanned my face before lifting a shoulder in a slight shrug. "I'm up for hanging out," she said.

  I smiled back at her. She was on my knee, which put her face higher than mine. She leaned down and kissed me in front of everyone. Shane made a disapproving noise when she did it, and said, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

  She broke the kiss and looked over at Shane. "You need to relax," she said. "We're just having a little fun."

  "No tears?" Shane asked, leveling her with a stare.

  "No tears," she said. She looked down at me. "He's relentless," she whispered.

  I rolled my eyes at Shane, but in my head I was thanking him, and he knew it. What's be
tter was that those sorts of outbursts were a win-win for Shane and I. The other girls had overheard him talking to Carly, and they automatically took it to mean that the same rules applied to Shane himself. He was a good-looking guy. He was also into fitness, and like myself, had quite a few tattoos. Girls seemed to go for him, and they especially liked his tough-guy routine about no tears. Within the hour, we'd each had a few beers, and Shane had a girl of his own on his lap.

  It was a perfect evening. There were about ten of us who partied at the beach before crashing at Phil's amazing house. It got a little crazy. I might have been with Carly and another girl at the same time, and by might, I mean I was. It wasn't something I did on a regular basis, but this happened to be a rare opportunity. Carly, along with a smokin' hot Korean model named Misha, were ready and willing to have some no strings attached fun, and who was I to refuse? Shane did his own thing, with one of the stylists from the shoot.

  Before we took off to our separate bedrooms, Shane and I spoke about plans for the next day. We agreed to be up and dressed by eleven, but quickly lost track of each other after that.

  I wasn't sure how his night went, but was glad to see him ready to go when I came into the kitchen the next morning. "You good?" he asked.

  Someone was sleeping on the couch in the living room, so we both whispered as we spoke.

  "Yeah. You?"

  "I'm good. I got like six hours sleep."

  "Me too," I said. "Maybe even seven."

  "No tears?" he asked.

  I shook my head. "Not in the slightest. They were up getting dressed when I left just now and they sent me away by each kissing one side of my face. I got a photo of it.

  "I got a photo of something I did last night too," Shane said, "But I could get in trouble in most states if I post mine."

  "I'm not posting mine either," I said.

  "Why not?"

  "Because they're half-dressed. It's obvious that it's a morning after photo. It's too much."

  "Who doesn't want to imagine themselves in between Carly Powel and that hot Asian chick?"

  "My female fans, that's who."

  "They'll forgive you," he said. "You're posting it."

  We'd been instructed to help ourselves to some breakfast before we left, so we grabbed a slice of quiche from the fridge. We quickly and quietly heated and ate it before packing some fruit for the road. We got to our gate over an hour early, and out of boredom, I went ahead and posted that hot girl sandwich photo on Instagram. Alex said he'd send me a few teasers from the photo shoot to post, but I didn't have them yet, and Shane said I'd be a fool not to post the one from that morning.

  I scrolled through the most recent photos on my account… the ones from my trip to L.A. There was the one in the airport, then the one in the hotel bathroom, then a few from the beach where we were shooting. I looked at each of them, remembering the moment they were taken. They each came with their own set of memories, and I recalled what I'd been thinking at the time. I scrolled to the one I took in my hotel bathroom, and for some reason the encounter with the girl with yellow eyes came to mind as I looked at the picture. I thought back and realized that I'd just talked to her before I took that picture and she must have been on my mind at the time.

  I couldn't remember what the girl looked like, but the eyes were such a striking color that the encounter stuck with me. I stared at it thinking it was funny that seeing a picture brought back random memories like that. Thinking about her made me curious about what she looked like. I remembered taking the picture of us, and wondered if she had posted it and tagged me in it. That's usually what girls did when I took a picture with them. All I had to do is check the photos I was tagged in and usually it was there. Out of curiosity, I did just that. I scanned the photos for a minute but didn't see any I thought was the one.

  It didn't matter. I probably wouldn't have even remembered her if it hadn't have been for that hotel picture bringing back the memory of her eyes. I recalled the way she shook when she handed me her phone. I thought she was sweet, which made for a good start to a freaking amazing trip. It was a success on every level and I smiled as I stared at photos of some of the highlights.

  "Dude, your Instagram's blowing up." Shane said. I refreshed the page and pressed the photo I'd just posted. There were already a hundred comments, and I just didn't have it in me to find out what they were all about.

  "Aren't you gonna watch it explode?" he asked when he noticed me putting my phone into my pocket.

  "Not really," I said.

  "You're gonna get a thousand new followers from that post, I'll bet. You gotta be pretty boss to post your three-ways."

  He was pushing my buttons and I elbowed him for it. He laughed, but then regarded me seriously.

  "Can you believe the sexiness in Los Angeles?"

  I looked up to smile at him from under my cap. "It's pretty sexy," I agreed.

  "Oh my goodness, are you New York Nicky?" A lady asked as she approached. My hat was pulled down, and the collar of my shirt was adjusted where not a lot of my neck was exposed, but she still managed to recognize me. I patted the seat beside me and she came over. She looked to be in her thirties, with a round face and a smile that exposed all of her teeth. She introduced herself as Sabrina and I talked to her for a minute before taking a photo of us with her phone much the same as I usually did with fans. Shane checked my Instagram right after she left and showed me on his phone that my new friend Sabrina already posted and tagged me in the photo we'd just taken. I absentmindedly wondered why the girl at the hotel hadn't done the same.

  Chapter 5

  Becca

  I wanted so badly to meet Isaac under different circumstances that it was easy to change my diet. I started doing that the instant I met him. It was amazing how little I cared about food once I was focused on my new goal. I knew I needed to get on a regular exercise routine, and I decided to try the place that Uncle Greg said had the thirty-day trial. He suggested that I call ahead and make an appointment to have someone show me around. I did, and had no trouble getting set up to start the very next day.

  The whole time I was there, I had the distinct feeling that some people were just bred to go to the gym and stay in shape, and some people weren't—and I was someone who wasn't. Nobody was rude to me, but I didn't feel like I belonged there. Mark, the guy who'd been showing me around, was a clean-cut picture of fitness perfection, and it was really intimidating having his attention focused on me.

  It wasn't bad at first, but after the tour he had me do a few exercises to help me experience what some of their strength and conditioning classes were like. Mirrors lined two of the four walls in the main gym, and I could clearly see my reflection while I was doing these workouts.

  It was pretty mortifying. I'm sorry, but my body and fitted clothes were not meant to be friends. I had places that wiggled and jiggled with my every movement, and my clothes did nothing to help matters. I could see my panty line, my bra line, and what seemed like a thousand other lines. I stared at myself in the mirror thinking, "I have to do something about the way I look before I can step foot into this God-forsaken gym again."

  Mark didn't act phased by my appearance, but I was officially not okay with it. I felt like I needed to lose weight before I could even think about coming back. I survived the introduction, but didn't make any promises about when I'd be back. I felt overwhelmed by how far I had to go to look like one of those spandex-wearing women who were all over the gym.

  I called my mom right when I got in my car. She knew I'd decided to try to lose weight, but had no idea what (or who) my motivation was.

  "Hey Becks," she said, answering the phone.

  "Hey."

  "Is everything okay?"

  "I'm good. I'm just finishing up at the gym, and I'm feeling overwhelmed with how far I have to go."

  "Slow and steady, baby. You can't expect things to change overnight. You have to just take one day at a time."

  "I'm okay with that, I just don't know
how many days I'll have to wait till I can set foot in a gym again."

  She was silent for a few seconds. "What do you mean? Did something happen?"

  "No. I mean, nothing bad happened. I just had to do some exercises and I looked unbelievably hideous in workout clothes."

  "I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

  "Trust me, it was. I don't feel like I look that bad in regular clothes, but in this stretchy stuff, I was jiggling around in places I never even knew I had. I literally saw rolls jiggling in the mirror when I moved."

  "You should wear a girdle."

  "Oh, gee thanks, Mom, that makes me feel a lot better."

  "No, I'm serious. They call them something else now, but you can get things that will help hold everything in place."

  "I'd need it to go from my neck to my knees."

  "I think they make that."

  "Seriously?"

  "I think so. I've seen them in the lingerie section."

  "It's called a unitard, I think."

  "Yeah, there's no way I'm saying that word out loud."

  "Just go to the lingerie section. It's by the bras and panties. Get one and try that under your workout clothes."

  I was so desperate to get going on my goal that I turned around and went to a department store instead of going home.

  I found the thing my mom was talking about right when I stepped foot in the lingerie section. There was a huge selection of them in various shapes and colors. Some covered the chest, some the waist and some the hips, but I went for the biggest, baddest mother-scratcher in the bunch. It was a thick piece of spandex that was basically a tank top hooked to a pair of biker shorts that looked capable of holding even the jiggliest of human beings in place. The only problem was, none of them were big enough. I looked around, thinking I was in some sort of dream. I wasn't that big, but it seemed these things were only made for super skinny people. I held one of them in my hand, squinting at the tag that read XXL, thinking I must be in the kid's section.