"Heather, good luck, ok?" Michelle Mickelson, one of Heather's longtime coworkers, patted her on the back. "I know you'll get that promotion," she winked.

"God, I hope so," Heather replied, taking a deep breath. "I've been working here for over a year now." She was waiting after her shift to talk to her manager.

"You've got this. Just be open to trying anything. That's how I got my raise," Michelle grinned, putting lipgloss in her purse.

"Yeah, duh, of course."

"You're an excellent worker. If she doesn't give you a raise or status change, I'll be surprised. You're so hot."

"I know," Heather smirked confidently. "I make everything look good."

"See you tomorrow, girl," Michelle waved.

"Bye," Heather said. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her latest Instagram posts. She only used social media to promote clothing and other products from Flatter Allure, the modeling agency where she worked. She tried to keep her life as private as a famous person could.

Her boss, Nicolette, came out of her office. "Heather, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes," Heather nodded, standing up.

"Alright, let's talk," Nicolette gave her a warm smile.

Heather followed her into her office. Bright portraits of fruit took up most of the space on the white walls. Nicolette was an eccentric manager. She always wore giant neon earrings with her outfits. Nicolette wasn't the designer, but Heather found it ironic that she hardly ever wore Flatter Allure's brand. Sometimes, she wondered how Nicolette still had her managerial position.

"So, what did you wanna talk about, Ms. Wilson?" Nicolette started, stirring her tea with a tiny golden spoon.

Heather focused on the stirring as she prepared. "I was wondering—since I've been working here for about a year and a half now—I thought it would be a good time for a raise or promotion."

Nicolette turned up her bright red lips into a wide grin. "I was waiting for you to come to me with that question. I was actually planning to talk to you about it if you never said anything."

Heather let the tension in her shoulders go. Her worst fear was being denied the promotion.

"So Heather," Nicolette began, "I know your dream is to own a modeling agency, and you are doing such a great job working your way up. I have some good and bad news," she frowned. "I'm getting transferred to our agency on the other side of town, so Corporate is looking for someone here to take my place."

Heather sat up straight in her seat, paying close attention.

"This will happen by the beginning of February, so I still have a little over a month here." Nicolette took a sip of her tea. "Now, Corporate will be looking for anyone who's top-notch in every single aspect. I haven't told any of the other models yet because—well, between you and me—I think you have the most potential."

Heather's face lit up. "Really?"

"Yes, really," she beamed. "I'm so excited to see how this agency takes off when I'm gone."

"Ok," Heather let out a breath. This felt surreal. She knew she was good, but she never guessed that she'd be a candidate for a managerial position. "What do I have to do?"

"Not much. When Corporate comes, they'll watch you guys model and ask you questions about the business. I know that you know this place like the back of your hand. You have exceptional leadership skills, and you're such a fantastic model. Like, oh my god, you're so pretty, and you can pull off any outfit."

Heather smiled. Although she hated being at the bottom of the modeling industry, she loved where she worked because of the constant praise and girl power in the atmosphere. And getting even more recognition from her manager made her feel like she was on top of the world.

Nicolette leaned forward on her desk. "The only piece of advice that I will give you is that you need to lose more weight."

Heather's face fell. "—What do you mean? I'm 5'9 (175cm) and 125 pounds (56 kg). I'm super skinny for my height. My doctor said I didn't need to lose anymore."

"Girl, I know you're skinny, but we must ensure that you fit into every size."

"What does that have to do with being a manager?" Heather crossed her arms.

"Corporate wants to ensure that the candidates have the drive and willpower to be head of the agency. And it's just a temporary weight loss. It's kind of like running a marathon to show off how much you've trained," said Nicolette.

"How much weight do I need to lose?"

"We'll need you down to 100 pounds."

Heather blinked. "—100 pounds? Is this for real?"

"Yes," Nicolette nodded.

Heather sensed no sarcasm in her voice. She swallowed. "So...if I'm hearing you right, you want me to lose twenty-five pounds in a month?"

"Mhm. I know it sounds unrealistic, but all you have to do is eat a thousand calories a day. Just make sure you have a nutrient-filled diet, and you're golden."

"Is there another way to do this?" Heather tapped her leg. "I can be just as dedicated to my work without losing weight."

"Heather," Nicolette laughed, "it's pretty easy. You'll be a little bit hungry, but it's temporary. Trust me; you won't die if you cut those extra desserts from your diet."

Heather raised an eyebrow. She hardly had "extra" dessert, but she did have some ice cream every night. I guess I can cut dessert down to once a week. No big deal, she told herself.

"So, what do you say? Keep in mind, if you become manager here, you'll be a step closer to being taken seriously enough in the fashion industry to create your own clothing line. I've seen your ideas. People will be dying to work with you!"

Heather looked off in thought. "You know what? I'll think about it, and I'll come to you with my decision tomorrow."

"Sounds perfect. Consider saying yes. There's no one else I'd want to see in my position," Nicolette waved.

"Thank you, Nicolette." Heather walked out of her office.

*~*~*~*~*

Gwen pulled into the tattoo shop parking lot, taking deep breaths. Tomorrow was her first day working at The Night Owl, and it was safe to say she was anxious. Gwen had looked up the nearest tattoo shop, which was Lucky Tats. It had four and a half stars, which was good enough for her.

She walked into the building and was greeted by the guy at the front. "When's your appointment?" He asked her.

Shit. I didn't think this through. "I don't have one. Happen to take walk-ins?" Gwen cringed.

"Only when it's not busy, so yeah, come on in. I'll get you with whoever's open next."

"Thanks." Gwen sat in one of the black chairs. She grabbed one of the art books and started flipping through it. Ok, I have to get something small since I'm obviously having a mental crisis right now, she told herself. A few pages in, she came across a tiny black spider tattoo. Perfect. I'll get it on my lower back.

"Alright, ma'am," the front desk man walked back into the waiting room. "I can get you with Duncan. He's one of our best artists here."

Duncan? Ha, funny coincidence, she thought with an internal eye-roll. "Ok, sounds good."

"He'll be ready in five minutes. He's just cleaning up from his latest client."

Gwen nodded. She kept her finger on the spider tattoo and looked through a few more pictures just in case.

Duncan came out a few minutes later. "Alright, David, I'm all set," he said, scanning the room for his client. He froze when he saw no one else but Gwen in the lobby.

"She's right over here," David motioned to her.

Duncan gulped. In the same week? Really?

Gwen closed the art book and looked up. Her eyes were saucers. Oh god, it's actually him—just my luck. "I'm so sorry, sir, but can I have another artist? I prefer a woman," she told him.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," Duncan joined in. "I always encourage clients to go with whoever they're most comfortable with."

"Unfortunately, Felicia's shift ends after the client she's with now," David frowned. "I can book you an appointment tomorrow with Jennifer," he offered.

"Yeah, Jennifer's really nice," Duncan agreed.

Gwen thought for a moment. There's no way I'm letting my ex ruin a tattoo day for me. I'm not letting him affect me anymore. Plus, he looks pretty uncomfortable. That's a bonus. "—On second thought, I think it's time I stepped out of my comfort zone and faced my fears a little." She walked towards Duncan, who gave her an "are you crazy?" look.

"If you're sure," David raised his eyebrows, confused.

"Oh, I'm positive," she laughed. "Thank you so much, sir. I'll make sure and tip you."

Duncan scowled at Gwen as she walked straight into his office. He left the door cracked. "Ok, so, I'm just wanting a black widow spider on my lower back," she told him casually.

"Gwen," Duncan sighed, "why are you doing this?"

"Doing what? I'm just getting a tattoo." She lay on her stomach on the client's table.

"You could've just waited until tomorrow," he muttered.

"Have a problem getting paid to do your job, Duncan?" Gwen said.

Duncan scoffed. "Pfft, no. I have no problem giving you a tattoo. You're just any other client."

"Then why are you acting so weird?"

"I'm not." If she wants to play that way, I can too. He got his supplies ready.

Geoff came back from the restroom. He had been hanging out with Duncan all day while he worked because he had been feeling down about his breakup. "Hey man, I used the last of the toilet paper, just so you know—" he cut himself off when he saw Gwen in the room.

"Ok, that's cool. I'll restock after I'm done with this client," Duncan said.

Geoff looked at Gwen, then at Duncan, to Gwen again, and back to Duncan. "Uh—should I leave?" He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

"No, why would I want you to leave, man?" Duncan grinned. Especially now.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I guess...ha...I don't know." Geoff could feel the tension in the room.

"Hey Geoff," Gwen smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"I was chillin' with Duncan for the day. Just something to do since I'm off work," Geoff answered.

"Nice. I'm getting a tattoo on a whim today," she chuckled. "Probably not the best decision, but hey, it's better than alcohol or drugs."

"Yeah, defo," he nodded, still weirded out.

"Alright, which side do you want the spider on?" Duncan asked Gwen.

"Lower right side," Gwen told him. She lifted part of her t-shirt.

Geoff watched uncomfortably as Duncan started on her tattoo. "So Geoff," Gwen began, "good news. I'm starting work tomorrow at the club."

"Oh, really?" He perked up. "My manager didn't even tell me you got the job!"

"I told her that I wanted to tell you myself. So surprise," she laughed.

"That's awesome. I can't wait. That means I'm training you tomorrow," Geoff grinned.

Gwen felt beyond relieved to hear that. "Thank god. I'm super nervous about this job. I haven't had a regular customer service job since Total Drama."

"Oh man, well, I know you'll do good. It's a pretty easy job, and there's hardly any pressure. The hardest part of the job is when someone tries to start a fight." Geoff eyed Duncan as he said it.

"I know you're staring at me, man," said Duncan. "And I just wanna say, in my defense, the other guy put his hands on me first."

"You got into a bar fight?" Gwen stifled laughter.

"Yeah, what about it?" Duncan stuck his tongue out, concentrating on the thin spider legs.

"Oh my god, that's so you."

Duncan didn't respond. He continued working on her tattoo.

"I'm sorry, dudes, but isn't it weird to be around each other again?" Geoff broke the tension.

"Not for me," Gwen lied.

"Not a bit," fibbed Duncan.

"You were just freakin' out a couple of nights ago when you saw them both at the bar," Geoff outed him.

Gwen held her breath to keep from cackling so her tattoo wouldn't get screwed up.

"Dude, shut up," Duncan clenched his jaw.

"It's true. You looked like a deer in headlights."

"This is too good," Gwen smirked. "Tell me more, Geoff."

"There's not much more to tell," Geoff flinched, knowing Duncan was pissed. Ok, so maybe I overshare sometimes.

"Hey, could you two zip it for the next ten minutes?" Duncan said. "It'll help me concentrate way better."

Gwen looked annoyed but stopped talking. He better not fuck up my tattoo. Geoff sat at his "designated" spot on the windowsill and scrolled through his phone until Duncan finished.

"There, it's done," Duncan sighed, rolling his eyes.

Gwen looked in the mirror. "Wow, that's actually really good." It's not like she expected Duncan to suck at it, but she didn't expect it to look this good. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Duncan grumbled.

Gwen pursed her lips. "I'll tip you, but I'm gonna tip the guy up front more. He was—much more polite."

"Ok?" Duncan laughed, playing it cool, although it irked him that she was being this petty. "I'm not exactly known for being polite."

"Oh, believe me, I know."

Gwen paid both Duncan and David. "Thanks again, sir," she told David, knowing Duncan was next to her listening. "That was quality service in the lobby."

Duncan shook his head, giving her a vexed look. What the fuck is her problem? "Bye, Duncan," Gwen waved with a mocking smirk.

"Whatever," Duncan said, waving his hand in dismissal. "I don't know why she came here."

Geoff cackled. "Dude, I'll be right back." He quickly followed Gwen out the door, catching it after she walked outside. "Gwen, before you go, I just remembered something."

"Yeah?" Gwen let the strain on her shoulders go. I did it. I got a tattoo from my ex, and I managed to make him uncomfortable while doing it. Go me!

"I saw your paintings on Sierra's blog last night. I really liked them." Geoff traced the snow on the sidewalk with his shoe.

Gwen blinked. "—Really? You don't have to lie to save my feelings or anything," she laughed. "I get plenty of rude comments on there, so—"

"I'm serious, G," he smiled. "You're really good."

"Well, they're not really...thanks," She sighed in defeat, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"They're not really what?"

"Like I said the other night, they're not for everyone."

"Could you take a compliment?" Geoff chuckled.

"I said thanks!" Gwen folded her arms over her chest.

"But only say that. Nothing else." His blue eyes caught her brown ones for a second or two, but she quickly averted her gaze away when she playfully rolled her eyes.

"Ok, thanks," she laughed. "Happy now?"

"Definitely," Geoff smirked.

Gwen gave him a playful smile before turning to leave. "Wait, Gwen, one last question," he stopped her. "Would you mind if I came over some time to check out your paintings? I bet they're cooler in person."

"Are you—are you being for real right now?" Gwen was genuinely shocked. None of her recent friends or ex-boyfriends ever showed much interest in her paintings. Geoff was the last person she'd expect to be interested.

"Yes," Geoff frowned. "I don't know why you don't believe me."

"I do. It's just..." she tried to hide her smile. "...I think we can arrange something sometime."

"Awesome," he beamed.

"Awesome," Gwen nodded.

"Yeah, awesome," Geoff repeated.

"Awesome." She blushed with embarrassment. "Uh—I've gotta go. I have some more painting to do." She walked backwards into the parking lot.

"Ok. See you tomorrow at work, Gwen," he waved.

"Awesome. See you tomorrow." How many times have I said that damn word now? Gwen scolded herself. She got into her car and let out a deep breath. What the fuck was that, Gwen? She pulled down the sun visor mirror, revealing her red cheeks, which only made her blush more. Ugh! She snapped the mirror back up. There is no way—he can't be doing this to me.

Meanwhile, Geoff went back inside the tattoo shop. His face felt hot. Before he could process what had just happened, Duncan approached him. "Hey man, I—whoa, you ok?" He said.

"Yeah, why?" Geoff creased his eyebrows.

"Your face is bright red. Is the wind really that bad now?"

"Oh, uh...yeah, it's pretty chilly out there," he replied.

"We have some hot cocoa in the back if you want any," Duncan offered.

"I'm good, but thanks," Geoff gave him a quick nod, his mind elsewhere. What just happened between us? Gwen's always been my friend. I've never thought of her like this before.

*~*~*~*~*

"Hola, papá," Alejandro answered the phone while he looked through the emails he missed while he was hungover the day before.

"Hola, Alejandro. I was calling to make sure you're ok," Pedro said.

Alejandro furrowed his eyebrows. "—Sí, I'm ok. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I just saw the news from the other night. There's a video of you drunk in the parking lot with Heather."

Alejandro groaned. "Oh Dios mío, of course, there is."

"You didn't see it?" Pedro said.

"No. I spent the entire day yesterday treating my terrible hangover!"

"Well, the news articles say you could be struggling with alcohol. Is that true, hijo? You know I'm always here for you if you need help."

"Papá, no! Why would you even believe that for a second?!" Said Alejandro.

Pedro sighed. "You know that alcoholism runs on my father's side of the familia, Alejandro. I was just checking on you."

"Let me assure you; I am no alcoholic. Not even close. That was one night when I drank too much. That is it. I never want to repeat that night."

"Good. I'm glad. Now your madre can relax."

"Do not listen to the news, papá. They will twist anything," Alejandro told him.

"I know, but sometimes it is true. It never hurts to be safe," Pedro replied.

"I have to go. I'm busy with work emails right now."

"Ah, bueno. Communicating with dozens of people like a true diplomat!" Pedro praised.

Alejandro was glad his dad couldn't see his facial expression over the phone. "Mhm. I'll see you later."

"Adios, hijo."

"Adios, papá."

Alejandro sighed after he hung up. The more his father spoke about him following in his footsteps, the less he wanted to.

He came across an email from [email protected]. "¿Qué?" He squinted. He opened up the mail. It was from yesterday. It read:

Hey Alejandro, this is Duncan. Duncan from Total Drama. I saw you last night at the club, but I don't know if you remember because you were super drunk. Anyway, I was wondering if you had Courtney's phone number by chance? And yes, it's Courtney from Total Drama. I really need to talk to her about something important.

"How did he get my email?" Alejandro whispered to himself. He figured it could be a crazy fan posing as Duncan, but the email name gave him away. Alejandro shook it off and responded:

Duncan,
Yes, I do have Courtney's number. She probably won't like it, but I will send it to you if your discussion with her is of that much importance. First, please prove to me that you are Duncan.

Duncan responded within five minutes with the following:

Alejandro,
When the cameras were off during World Tour, you told me that you get full body waxes and go to the spa weekly. You didn't want the other guys to know.

Alejandro typed back, flustered:

Yep, that proves it. Gracias.

He typed in Courtney's number at the bottom of his response without a second thought and hit 'send.'

*~*~*~*~*

Courtney sat in her car in the parking lot after law school. She rested her head on the steering wheel and screamed. If she had to read one more book in the next two days, her head would explode.

Courtney couldn't even focus on her schoolwork because she could only think about taking that pregnancy test. She started searching the internet to find out if it was possible to know sooner. "Ah ha!" She beamed when she found out she could get a blood test at a doctor's office in a week instead of two. I'll take anything at this point. Her thumb hovered over the contact button. She almost pressed call, but another call interrupted her.

"Ugh," Courtney groaned. She furrowed her eyebrows at the unknown number and picked up. "Hello?"

"Hi Courtney, this is Duncan. Before you hang up, just hear me out—"

Courtney's stomach dropped. "H-how the hell did you get my number?"

"Alejandro gave it to me. Usually, I wouldn't go to these lengths to contact an ex, but this is important—"

"Alejandro gave you my number?! Alejandro?!" Courtney balled her fists.

"—Yes, and you have a right to be angry at him, but could you just let me speak?" Duncan tried to remain as calm as possible. Here she goes again, always blabbing and interrupting!

"I can't believe that dead donkey gave you my number!" She growled. "He knows I don't want to contact you!"

"I told him that it was important, and it is—"

"Oh, he is so dead!!"

Duncan clenched his jaw. "Courtney, I need to ask you one question—"

"He's such a traitor! How would he feel if I gave him Bridgette and LeShawna's numbers and all the other girls he's probably played in high school?!" Courtney raged.

"COURTNEY," Duncan stated firmly. Courtney went silent. "Thank you," he sighed. "All I wanted to know is if you're on birth control. The other night was...really irresponsible, and I just want to make sure—"

"I am," she lied, cringing. She didn't know why she did it. Could it have been her fear of his reaction? And if she were pregnant, would she even tell him?

Duncan felt a wave of relief wash over him. "Ok," he breathed. "Alright, that's good. Good for both of us."

"Yeah," Courtney replied, staring off into space. What am I doing? She thought. Just tell him the truth! No, don't. Chances are, you're not pregnant. There's no point.

"Thank god."

"What's that supposed to mean, neanderthal?!" She snapped.

Duncan laughed sarcastically. "I was going to be nice, but since you called me that name, I'll tell you. It means I don't wanna be tied to you for the rest of my life!"

Courtney laughed louder. "You think I want to be tied to you? Even if I were pregnant, any kid with your genes is getting aborted!"

"Wow, that's just SUPER! I'd LOVE that! I'd even pay for the abortion!"

"FANTASTIC. That's a bunch of money I can save for when I move to New York and become the best lawyer there!"

"—You're moving to New York?" Duncan asked.

"Yeah, so what?!" Courtney spat. "That's none of your business!"

"Pfft, not that I care. It just caught me off-guard. That's all."

"I'm done talking to you, Duncan. Now do me a favor and stay out of my life!" Courtney punched the 'hang up' button. He didn't have to mention how grateful he was that I wasn't pregnant—if I'm not. Courtney frowned. She didn't mean it when she said she'd get an abortion, but she seriously considered going through the adoption route without telling him. If I'm pregnant, she reminded herself. If. Now, it's time to get things sorted out with Alejandro.

Courtney called Heather. She waited for her friend to pick up, glaring ahead with a murderous look in her eyes.

"Hey, babes, what's up?" Heather answered.

Courtney put on her most angelic voice. "Hi, bestie. I was wondering if Alejandro was home with you right now."

"Yeah, he's staying over tonight. Why?"

"Oh, that's all I needed to know. Have a great night, Heath. Bye." She hung up before Heather could respond. It'll be harder since he's not alone, but I got this. Courtney drove straight to Heather's apartment, only one thing on her mind.

When she got to the parking lot, she checked her phone to see one missed call and a message from Heather: hey, why'd you hang up?

Courtney got out of her car, slamming the door. She marched into the elevator and patiently waited for it to hit the seventh floor.

The doors opened, and Courtney saw Alejandro sitting on the couch with a glass of red wine. Heather was nowhere in sight, so she started toward him. He jumped at the sound of the elevator beeping and spun around. "Courtney?!" He looked embarrassed.

"What kind of idiot drinks the day after having a hangover?" She mocked.

"¿Qué?" Alejandro gave her a puzzled look. "Why are you here?"

"Oh, I think you know perfectly well why I'm here," Courtney sneered. She slowly made her way past him and sat on the chair across from the sofa.

Alejandro gulped, placing a pillow over his lap. "No? Could you tell me more?"

"Gladly." She crossed her legs. "I got a special call about thirty minutes ago."

He nodded. "Sounds—wonderful?"

"A call from someone I didn't want to call me," Courtney hissed.

Alejandro blinked, then he realized. Oh no. I really didn't think this through. "Lo siento, Courtney. I was only trying to help him out!"

She quickly stood up. "Why would you want to help him out?! What kind of a lousy friend are you?! Just wait until I tell Heather about this!"

"Tell me about what?" Heather rushed downstairs, concerned about all the yelling.

Courtney whipped her head toward Heather. "Tell you that—oh my god, what are you wearing?!" She shrieked. Heather had on a thin black robe with red lingerie underneath.

"Fuck," Heather blushed. "I thought this was all over speakerphone or something. Courtney, what are you doing here?"

"I came here to inform you that your boyfriend gave my ex-boyfriend my number!"

"Why didn't you just tell me that over the phone thirty minutes ago?" Heather asked. "You didn't answer my call or text after."

"Because," Courtney laughed, "I came here to make sure Al GETS IT!" Courtney took the other pillow from the couch and swatted him in the face with it.

"Never call me 'Al' again!" Alejandro glowered. He would have pillow fought back, but the pillow he had on his lap hid the bulge in his pants from messing around with Heather a few minutes prior.

"I'll call you Al all I like, Al!" Courtney kept hitting him with the pillow.

"Hey, wait, stop!" Heather tore the pillow from her friend's grasp. "Courtney, why the fuck didn't you tell me you were coming here?"

Alejandro's jaw dropped. "That's what you're angry at?! Not that she's physically and verbally assaulting me?!"

"Well, you did give Duncan her number. That's pretty shitty, babe," Heather said.

"He said he needed to ask her something important!" Alejandro argued.

Courtney rolled her eyes. "Well, newsflash, it WASN'T important! I thought it would be common sense for a friend not to give their friend's ex, who CHEATED on them, their number!"

"You can always block him! Jesús Christo..."

"Heather, give me back that pillow," Courtney demanded.

"No," Heather held the pillow tightly to her chest. "I'm not going to let you fuck up my pillow or boyfriend anymore. You got a few hits in."

"That's not enough!" Courtney shot daggers at Alejandro. "You're a traitor, Alejandro." She glanced at Heather. "And Heather, I hope you punish him for this!"

A laugh escaped Alejandro's lips. "What's so funny?!" Courtney yelled. "You're lucky your girlfriend's here to save you, Al!"

Alejandro's laugh turned into a glower. "If you call me that one more time, I will get revenge, and it will not be pretty."

"Ooh, I'm so scared! Please," Courtney spun around, causing the purse on her shoulder to swing like a tetherball.

"Courtney, we'll talk about this later," Heather said, grabbing her wine glass from the end table.

Courtney scoffed. "You guys clearly don't even care!"

"I care!" Heather gave her a look. "I really do. I'm just lost here because I had plans this evening, and you decided to show up out of nowhere!"

"You know—whatever! He deserved it!" Courtney gave Alejandro one last glare before storming out.

"Huh." Heather let her shoulders fall. "That happened."

"She messed up my gorgeous hair!" Alejandro whined and frantically combed his fingers through his dark locks.

"Well, I'm about to mess it up again," Heather giggled, straddling his hips.

"Thank god she didn't pull off this pillow," Alejandro referred to the one on his lap.

Heather removed it and smirked. "You managed to stay hard the entire time Courtney was beating you up? Maybe I should punish you. You seem to be into that kind of stuff," she teased.

Alejandro grabbed her hips. "I wouldn't mind some punishment from you, mi reina. You are insanely sexy when you're angry." He nipped at her neck.

"Could you not give me any hickeys tonight?" Heather said. "Reminder: I'm a model, and I have work tomorrow."

"Right. Lo siento," he purred, moving his lips to her jawline and ear.

As they continued making out and touching one another, Heather thought about her meeting with Nicolette earlier. Maybe I can handle this diet. I just have to be careful and not slip into past habits. Besides, it never hurts to look better for more money.