Look of Love: Love Me Right, #3

By Bridgette Tell

A Brainy Model.

A Fed-up Best Friend.

An unexpected Kiss.

Saphine is ready to jump into the next phase of her ten year plan. Since fourteen, she has known exactly what she wants from life. Now that she's eighteen and done high school, Saphine thinks she is ready to move from print to the runway. But is the runway ready for her? And more importantly, is Gared?

Gared has been best friends with Saphine since the fourth grade, and in love with her for just as long. Frustrated with his best friend's choice of men, Gared decides it is time to take a chance on their friendship for something more.

Love wasn't in the plan for Saphine. Can she risk everything - her career, her friendship, and, most importantly, her heart - for a feeling? Or will logic and timing pull these two apart forever?

*This book contains explicit sexual scenes and is intended for 18 or older. It can be read as a standalone with a happy ending.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bridgette Tell
• Release date: Dec 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9781999034573

Book preview

To my father, who has always been supportive and loving, even if he has no idea how smutty the books I write are...

CHAPTER 1

Saphine

TURN A LITTLE more to the right! Just a little more!

I do what the photographer asks, ignoring the wicked kink in my neck. Despite the pain I know that the photo will look good. Beauty is pain. And pictures aren’t reality.

I should know, I’m a model after all.

That’s a wrap.

The photographer, Miguel I think is what he introduced himself as, turns to his assistant. Tell Dean we are ready for him in here.

The tiny woman jumps up and practically runs out of the room to do his bidding.

Sighing, I get up and stretch out on my tiptoes, my shoulders and back popping and cracking like a bowl of popcorn. Ouch. I should probably book a session with my chiropractor. Or just get Gared to do it. He has strong hands and magic fingers when it came to massages.

Soon enough, a man in a striking tux saunters into the room, his blue eyes sparkling and his full lips almost girly.

Before I can even introduce myself to my fellow model, Miguel has us wrapped up into an intimate hug. Despite the hot look in Dean’s eyes, I don’t feel so much as a flutter in my stomach. A hazard of the job, I guess. I quit getting nervous around good looking men around the same time I got my driver’s license. Just over a two years ago.

A shame, because Dean is hot as hell. Through the almost kisses and breathing in each other’s breath, I don’t feel even the slightest buzz or tingle. While it would be easy to give into that look in Dean’s eyes, and lose ourselves for an hour in the dressing area later, I know it is not worth it. I’ve been around that particular block more than once.

And for me, tingles are important. If a dude can’t get to me on a physical level, then there is no point in making polite conversation. All I will be left with is more unsatisfied with men and sex than usual.

Not that I ever seem to get any satisfaction.

Now lean in and kiss like a Nicholas Sparks movie. Slowly! Miguel yells, breaking through the fog of my thoughts.

With a sigh and a mental eye roll, I let Dean lead. Not shocking, he wraps an arm around my waist and another behind my neck (without blocking my face from the camera) and leans in.

Cool lips hit mine, gentle brushes, before pressing harder.

I carefully angle my face, aware of the clicking of the shutter, and try not to focus to much on the fact I have a stranger's tongue practically down my throat.

Dean definitely needs some lessons on making out. Ugh.

To make matters worse, he leans me back at a painful angle, still sucking my face. I let him. For now.

Perfect!

No sooner had Miguel spoken, I pull out of Dean’s arms and not-so-subtly wipe my mouth from the excess slobber. It was like making out with a Saint Bernard. Gross.

Next girl! Miguel yells as he flicks through pictures.

I don’t give Dean a backward glance as I hurry off set towards the dressing and makeup room. Ten other girls are back there in various types of big poufy dresses. A couple of the girls, like me, are in wedding dresses. I see the three girls in the makeup chairs are in colorful ball gowns, likely for the graduation selection The Dress Lounge has in stock.

I wave noncommittally to the girls as I head to the corner. Soon enough a woman comes over and starts undoing the laces. Once I’m free from the dress, I dig into my bag and pull out my phone. Even as I’m slipping off the stilettos and rolling down the sheer tights, I’m scrolling through my Instagram feed.

A blur of models and influencers passes through my vision as I slowly get dressed, constantly stopping to like a picture or comment. I jump when a hand clamps on my shoulder.

Hey, a low voice growls. I look up into bright blue eyes and for a moment I can’t place them.

Then I sigh.

Dean.

Damn. I had planned to get out of here as soon as my session was done, but as usual my phone distracted me.

Hi.

I turn away and quickly shove my arms through my spring coat.

Dean does not take the hint. Instead he leans in close, his arm against the wall. So, you want to grab a coffee or something?

I shove my beanie over my heavily hair-sprayed hair before giving him a tight smile. Look, Dean, I stretch out his name with purposeful ignorance, I’m just not interested.

His eyes shutter and his jaw clenches. Before he can get to puffed up, I shove my phone in my pocket and grab my shoulder bag from the wall. I give him a quick nod before walking out of there as fast as my stiletto boots let me.

Breathing in the chilly spring air, I take a moment to center myself. I don’t like being that person, but in my career, men constantly asking for dates and stroking their ego came with the territory. And I’ve seen more than one girl pulled down into the mud because she was ‘to nice’.

That’s why normally my agent and I are on the same page. I like to take the smaller jobs that aren’t to ‘sexy’. Get the photographers and other models to respect me. And yah, sometimes I have to get a little up close and personal with another model, but I never let it bleed into my personal life.

I walk quickly through downtown Edmonton, hitting up Jasper Avenue before disappearing into Corona LRT station. Once I’m seated, I pull my phone out and tap open my other vice. Tinder.

The cool colors of spring wash past the windows, the sky blue and the grass just starting to green. The outside world is in that breath just before bloom. Hesitating. Not quite ready to wake up and let go of the last whispers of winter.

And all of it blurs together as I swipe through profiles, not even bothering to read taglines. It is a fog of too bright smiles and purposeful poses with stretched muscles and naked abs. And like a moth, I keep hitting the same flame despite having been burned.

Abs.

Swipe right.

Sunglasses and gelled hair.

Swipe right.

Bulging biceps.

Swipe right.

Ding!

Briefly distracted from the mind-numbing movements, I pull up the messaging side of the app and see I have a new message. The guy doesn’t even put the effort in for words, using just a coffee emoji and a question mark.

Well, why not? I’ve got nothing to lose, and despite saying no to Dean, I am single and interested in dating right now. It just seems to be a blur of same guy, same coffee, same conversation.

Same messy bed as I sneak out in the morning.

Next stop, University station.

Shaking my head, I get up and wait at the doors, not putting my phone down. Instead I engage in some meaningless flirty banter, a slight spark of interest racing down my spine. My heartbeat picks up a little.

By the time I walk into my dad’s house, me and Nice-ab’s-with-a-smile guy are set to meet up tonight.

How’s your day, Saphine? I hear my dad call from the kitchen.

Not bothering to look up from my phone, I drop my stuff at the door and stumble towards the kitchen.

Good, I mumble as I blindly grab an apple and head back out to the stairs.

Dinner will be ready in an hour, he calls after me.

I mumble something in return, already swallowing the first bite of my apple. I don’t stop moving until I have my bedroom door locked and I’m curled up in my big king bed.

When my oldest sister moved out, I took her room and the bed she left behind. Now my other sister, Katherine, shares my old room with my brother Eric. Eric and I had shared a room for years because there was no way in hell that I would share a room with my sister Emily.

Then again, it’s been almost a year since Kitty—Katherine—moved out to live with her millionaire boyfriend Matt. My other sister, Mary-Ann moved in with her new boyfriend this spring down to Black Diamond. With the way he watched her every move with wonder, I had a feeling wedding bells were in her future. Again. Except this time, I actually like the guy she is with. Jake is so good to Mary-Ann.

My phone starts buzzing, shocking me with the time, 6:30 pm. Shit. Three hours have passed of me scrolling through Instagram. Now I barely have ten minutes to get ready before heading out to meet with Gared.

Gared has been my best friend since we were both little. He is the only person who understood me and my motivations. Plus, it was major bonus that we both loved watching crappy sci fi movies like Alien VS Predator and Maximum Overdrive. We had a long-standing binge-movie-night every Saturday night, unless I was working which was pretty rare.

Jumping up off the bed, I quickly change into some comfy sweats and a baggy sweater. I scrape my fingers through the cement that is my hair until it loosens enough to let go of the pins in it. Once done, I throw my shoulder length ashy blonde hair up into a messy pony. Gared doesn’t care what I look like. He usually is dressed very similar to me.

Once I wipe my face clean of any makeup, I grab my phone and head out the door, pulling up the app for Tinder once more.

CHAPTER 2

Gared

I GLANCE AT THE alarm clock sitting on my night table again. Ten minutes.

Taking in a shaky breath, I make sure to pull out the extra blankets that Saphine loves. The fluffy Frozen one is always wrapped around her shoulders within moments of Saphine coming over.

I shouldn’t be feeling like this. Saphine and I have been friends forever.

And I’ve been in love with her just as long.

Which is why, despite over a decade of friendship, I still get nervous every time I know Saphine is coming over to my house. My room.

I open my window and light the Rose Water & Ivy candle Saphine bought for me last Christmas.

I’ve already laid out ten movies for tonight, all of which I had picked up from the Edmonton Public Library—Idylwylde. The snacks—Cheetos and M and M’s filled with hazelnut spread—are set in bowls ready for Saphine’s grabby hands. I even picked up her favourite pop, Cream Soda, just for tonight. While none of these things are my favourite, I like them well enough. And I really like when our hands would sometimes meet when we grab for snacks while watching the movie.

Shaking my head, I lean back on my bed and stare up at my ceiling. There is a dream catcher hanging by a thread above me, that Saphine had made for me in grade four. One of the first gifts she had ever given me.

Despite ten years of friendship, I have never, not once, felt even the slightest interest from Saphine. Hugs never lingered, eyes never dropped down to look at my lips, hands never skimmed my waist.

It was driving my crazy. Especially the last few years. She kept jumping from one fuckboy to the next, all of them treating her like shit. But did she ever turn and look at the guy standing beside her through it all? Nope. Not once.

The door to my room slams open before quickly falling closed behind my best friend.

Hey Gared, she calls out in that low sultry voice of her.

I shiver a little before forcing my own voice into a state of calm. Hey, ready for a night of green blood and alien probing?

She gives me a quick smile, a real smile unlike those in all of her modeling pictures. Oh yah, baby. Ready for some probing all night long, She says with a snort before grabbing the bowl of Cheetos and settling down on the other end of my bed.

I don’t mind the space between us because it makes it easier to sneak glances over at her. I quickly get the first movie going. Not five minutes later, she has her phone out. The blue-white glow lights up her face making it impossible to ignore that slightly turned up nose and those impossibly full lips. My best friend has a face for sex, and the willowy body that have designers begging for her to model their clothes.

While most people get caught up in the perfection, I love the subtle little imperfections in my best friend. Like the streak of white hair she’s had since birth. To most it looks like a badly done highlight job, but I know better.

There was also the dark freckle in her right eye. A spot of darkness in her otherwise pale emerald eyes.

She snorts at something before turning her phone screen towards me.

What do you think of this guy? Right or left?

I pull my eyes away from her face and force myself to look down at her phone. Some fuckboy, shirt pulled up and a weird pout on his face, stares back at me. He looks just like the last three guys she dated this last year.

I cough and clear my throat before answering, Left. Dude looks like he spends more time looking at himself than paying attention to anyone else.

She frowns a little, her bottom lip jutting out a bit more than usual, before she pulls her phone back. You’re probably right, she mumbles before swiping left.

My heart warms a little. She might not be in love with me, but she trusts me. And that’s something.

It could grow.

I shift in the bed, pulling a pillow over my lap. The version of Saphine that I see is nothing like the over six-foot-tall bombshell the rest of the world sees. This Saphine is comfortable to sit by me, no makeup and messy bun, with not a care in the world. She is soft unlike the hard edges she shows her agent, her model friends, and the fuckboys she dates.

The next couple hours are a struggle as I try to focus on the movies. Sometimes Saphine looks up from her phone and throws a snappy comment at the screen. We make quips and stuff our faces with snacks and my heart beats double time every time she throws her head back and laughs from her belly.

I should say something. I’m not confident enough to straight up tell her I’m in love with her. That I’ve been wanting more from our friendship this last year. That it’s been getting harder every time we hang out to not touch her, kiss her, imagine those long legs of hers wrapped around me.

Instead, I stay quiet. And when she starts giggling and blushing while staring into her phone’s screen, I tighten my hands into fists and stare at the TV in my room.

To soon, it is past midnight and she gets up off the bed. I’m tongue tied as I watch her stretch, her shirt pulling up high enough to give a peak of her smooth sun kissed belly.

Thankfully I still have the pillow over my lap, because otherwise I would definitely be embarrassing myself right now.

Saphine turns and smiles down at me as she stretches her arms back and her back pops. Thanks, Gared, she says, her eyes glowing with contentment. She leans in for a quick one-armed hug before backing up from the bed. See you again next week? She asks.

For sure, I reply, even though I know she hasn’t heard me. She’s already staring down at that damned phone.

Sometimes I am more jealous of her phone than the fuckboys she dates. It gets way more attention from her than anyone-or-thing else in her life.

Scrubbing a hand through my hair, I get up and quickly clean my room.

And because I’m a sucker for pain, I wrap myself in her Frozen blanket and lay on my bed, incredibly turned on as the sweet smell of vanilla and Saphine floats around me.

Damn.

I grab my dick and rub it slowly, my mind still swirling around thoughts of Saphine and her tangled blonde hair and big moss green eyes.

God, what I would give to have her giggling and blushing over me.

Restless, I hop out of the bed and go to the bathroom. I stare into the mirror at my reflection, grimacing. I’m not bad looking. I’ve had a girlfriend before.

But I’m definitely not on the same level as Saphine’s fuckboys.

I have the height, just taller than her, standing at just over six foot five. But unlike my skinny best friend, my shoulders are wide, and I’ve been mistaken for a linebacker before. Except I’ve never been that kind of sporty or athletic person, instead focusing more on video games and anime.

I pull up my shirt and poke at my soft belly, nothing like the chiseled abs of Renaldo, Saphine’s last ex. My best friend definitely has a type. Maybe that’s why she’s never looked at me with anything close to lust.

Fed up with my reflection, I go back to my room and curl up in the blanket. My thoughts are a black cloud around me, and I can’t seem to see a way to get through to Saphine.

Not wanting to get caught up in the hopelessness of our situation, I try to focus on something else.

Like Saphine’s impossibly long legs.

Being the pathetic person I am, I pull up my phone and go on to her official Instagram profile. Scrolling down I stop on one of her in a bikini, glancing over her shoulder. She has just the barest hint of a smile and her eyes sparkle with mischief. Not quite the woman that I know and love, but the closest picture on her account that isn’t completely fake.

I reach a hand down inside the front of my sweats and grab my already hard dick. As I set a steady rhythm, dream Saphine giggles and slowly pulls her swim bottoms down.

"What are you waiting for Gared?" she asks. "I want you. It’s always been you," she whispers, as I imagine her pushing back into me.

God, I can almost feel her impossibly soft skin, and her hair that always smells like coconut. Really, everything about her is edible. I just want to bite into her, gorge myself on her body.

What I would give to nip her plush bottom lip, to feel her warm breath against my lips.

As I lose my load in my hand, I can’t help but think that something needs to change. I have tried to get over her with someone else but that epically failed.

That leaves only one other option.

I need to grow some fucking balls and ask Saphine out.

Then again, I remind myself, Saphine would probably just assume it was a friends’ date and bring some dick wad with her. Kind of like the last time I tried asking her out and ended up dating another girl who I was only sort of into.

No, asking her out won’t work. I need to get physical.

There ain’t no mistaking a kiss.

While the light touches and accidental hand holds have been going on for a while, Saphine has just shrugged them off in the past. Now a kiss, that’s hard to ignore. And hard to mistake as meaning anything other than I am interested in you.

With a sigh, I clean myself up before rolling over in bed.

The last thought I have before sleep claims me, is how am I going to get the guts to cross