Page 62 of Blue Gold

20

ELLIOT

Badum. Badum. Badum.

My heart was beating loudly, its sound the only thing I could hear despite the fuss backstage of the show. Everyone was moving so fast, everyone but me, who was still seated in the hair and makeup chair. By now, I’d done dozens of shows for much bigger brands, and yet, I was never this nervous. Head to toe, I was set to go out there and open the show, but my legs froze, making it impossible to move. I was terrified. Scared of who I’d see once I stepped out there.

Looking over my shoulder at the exit, I considered running away when my name was called, and my eyes snapped back to my agent, and I knew doing so wasn’t an option. Unwillingly, I stood up, took a deep breath, and walked toward the show’s director, who seemed almost as nervous as me. The only difference was that she didn’t need to get on a stage in the next minute and walk in front of hundreds of people while hiding it.

“And it’s a go,” she said, giving me the cue that often switched my head to working mode, in which I focused on one thing and one thing only:

Being perfect.

So far, I’d been perfect on every runway in every show and every city I visited, but maybe today wouldn’t be the same. Because what if I spotted him in the audience, and out of shock, I tripped and fell? My skin began to itch under the clothes they put on me because what if he’d see me for the fraud I was? When we parted ways, I promised him to be the greatest, so everyone would want me, including him, but what if I’d only made a joke out of myself in the end? Practically sweating my ass off, I got out there, ready to fail, only to learn today was no different, and just like always, I was perfect.

So damn perfect.

As I opened the show and walked down the runway with the perfect face and perfect walk, everyone was looking at me, as they always did, everyone but him. Because… because he wasn’t there. The second I realized that he hadn’t come to watch me, a knot formed in my stomach, and I understood that the unsettling feeling that had twisted my gut wasn’t fear of seeing him but the anticipation for it. The same awful anticipation I’d feel for the next five days before every show, only to experience the same disappointment that followed when he wasn’t there to watch me.

I wanted him to watch me.

I wanted him to watch me with his captivating eyes so badly it made my body ache and my heart hurt. The same reassuring eyes whose attention, approval, and admiration I used to strive for. You’re such a fool, Elliot. Pining after a married man who not only humiliated you but broke your heart—shattered it into a million pieces—without even realizing he did. But that was exactly what he did on my twentieth birthday. I can’t lose everything because of you, he’d said, as if I’d asked him for something in return for my love. His voice was accusing, like it was my fault I’d fallen for him. You’ll hurt now, but eventually, you’ll get over it, he’d announced with such confidence, dismissing me completely and treating me as if I were some stupid child who didn’t know love.

Unfortunately for the two of us, I did know love.

Remembering how cold and unworthy he was helped me to focus on the here and now. Today, I wouldn’t be opening the show but closing it, and I was all but ready to do great. I was Elliot Dufort, a twenty-one-year-old supermodel who captured the world with his purple eyes and perfect face. That was what all the magazines were saying, right? It was why I was on every billboard in Times Square. I was young, beautiful, and successful; my life was only just beginning, and I wasn’t about to slow down, especially not over men like Jacques or Daniel.

That was why I stepped out onto the catwalk with my head held high and all the fake confidence I could gather. I walked with elegance but also strength, as male models should. I could hear people gasp as I passed them, feeling the room applauding me and not just the clothes I wore. My chest filled with pride for being good at something, and for a moment, I truly felt like the supermodel I was supposed to be. But only for a moment because, for some reason, today, he chose to show up. Sitting in a front-row seat, right next to his wife, was him.

Daniel Williams.

The Daniel Williams.

The man who carried himself with so much confidence and grace that I foolishly mistook him for my knight in shining armor. Only to learn he wasn’t at all a warrior but a coward who hurt me so miserably that for a long while, I felt unworthy. But now, more than a year later, he was looking at me again… and the way his eyes followed me didn’t make me feel worthless, but the opposite. His captivating stare followed me with a fierce intensity, reminding me of a lion stalking its prey. It made me believe I could be anything to him, and I wanted it, desired it with all my heart. But other than that, his face revealed nothing else, and it infuriated me because all this time, I wished his suffering would be so great it would be impossible to ignore.

Swallowing hard, I walked as if nothing had happened. But those emotions were stronger than me, and the closer I got to where he was, the harder my heart pounded in my chest. Thankfully, I didn’t stumble on my feet. Yet. Doing my best to stay composed, I’d decided to hold my breath the closer I’d gotten to him. But then, just as I passed by him, I dared to take a short breath. Maybe it was my imagination, but I swore I could smell his woodsy fragrance. The one that reminded me of home, even though it had nothing to do with Provence. The scent nearly brought tears to my eyes, but I fought it and closed the show like a true professional.

The second I was out of sight, my walls collapsed, and I looked back, desperate to get another peek at him. Was he surprised to see me tonight? More importantly, was he happy? Fuck. I don’t know. Closing my eyes, I tried to remember the expression he had on his face, so maybe I’d have some sort of a hint, but nothing came up. My memory, even though I’d only just seen him, was as blank as a white canvas.

Fuck.

I felt so lame, like the biggest loser on Earth, and I hated it. I hated him because he took something from me before I could properly have it.

With tears at the back of my throat, I was ready to cry⁠—

“Elliot, you were absolutely wonderful!” one model said.

“Fuck yeah, you are so good,” another one added. “We gotta have a drink at the after-party.” She grabbed my arm, already pulling me with her, completely unaware that the only place I wanted to be wasn’t at all some stupid after-party, but back in my room.

Alone.

But that wasn’t about to happen, wasn’t it? After all, I was now a supermodel, and supermodels went to after-parties whether they liked it…

Or not.

After a while of dancing and, what did the Americans call it… oh, yes, mingling, I’d decided to sneak out for a smoke. It wasn’t like people didn’t smoke inside. I mean, we were a bunch of drunk models stuck together in a room full of booze and millionaires. But I preferred to savor my cigarettes when I was alone. A good smoke is too much of a pleasure to waste with strangers.

I used to love parties, but now, not really. They made me feel even more lonely than I already was. When I had just moved to New York, I was an outsider. But now, surrounded by models, designers, stylists, and photographers who came from all around the world, I was just one out of many. If anything, being French gave me bonus points. My English had also improved, so shouldn’t all of that have made it easier to feel like a part of something? Apparently not, because I still struggled to fit in. And not just here, but throughout my life. There had been moments that made me feel like I belonged. Wanted. But they never lasted, and the aftermath always left me wishing I’d never experienced them to begin with.