“Right,” I choke out.
But Zach doesn’t notice. He’s in a much better mood than when he arrived, and when I drop him off at the airport, he leans over to give me a hug. A hug . He presses that perfect body of his to mine. It doesn’t matter that only our arms, chests, and shoulders touch. It’s enough to make me want to rip all of his clothes off right then and there. But he grins at me, oblivious, and gets out of the car.
Finally , I tell myself. I’m glad that’s all over.
“Hello?” Aidan answers his phone that evening.
“Yeah, hi. It’s Kyra.”
“Hello, Kyra! Do you have an answer for me?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you come be my assistant?”
“Yeah,” I say. “When do we leave?”
Zach: So how are you? Thanks for the coffee :-)
Zach: The photo shoot was kinda crazy. They wanted me to wrap a live snake around my neck.
Zach: So how are things in Albuquerque? How’s the job?
Zach: Are you mad at me?
Zach: Can we talk? Call me?
When Jason buys me a new phone as a going-away present, I ask for a new number too, and that finally ends the text-torture. I’m a wreck. I go through the motions of my life, of getting packed and ready for Europe, but I’m numb with uncertainty.
When my parents drive me to the airport to catch my flight, they seem unaware of how tied in knots I am. The first leg of my journey is to go from Albuquerque to LA, Triple Cross’s home base. That flight takes a couple of hours. At LAX, I get picked up by a dark SUV with a window shutting me off from the driver. This vehicle takes me to another airport where the band’s private jet is parked. Aidan opens the door when I arrive. “Kyra Armijo,” he says.
“Hi, Aidan. Reporting for duty.” I descend into the slightly muggy air.
“At ease,” he returns the jibe. “On this part of the job, we’re just shooting a bunch of candid footage. Thing is, the jet’s only so big, so odds are you might end up in some of the shots.”
“Well, I’ll do my best to stay out.”
“If you want to sign a release, then it doesn’t have to be an issue.”
I shake my head. That was one thing Jen and her mother had drilled into my head—stay behind the camera—not that I really need any reminding. “No, I’m here to learn about film. Best if I just focus on that.” I make a mental note that he tried to get me to sign a legal document the first second I reported for work, but I append to that another mental note that I’m on edge right now because I’m about to see Zach again.
With guys hauling my luggage for me, I feel at loose ends as I walk with Aidan to the waiting jet. The first stop on the European tour is going to be Madrid, then Lisbon, Geneva, Rome, Athens, Istanbul, Warsaw, Berlin, Stockholm, Paris, and finally London. I wonder what my passport is going to look like by the end of this.
The members of the band are all standing, clustered around the bottom of the stairs, discussing something or other with the camera crew. Ben sees me first and calls out, “Kyra! Hey, girl!”
Zach, who has his back to me, goes rigid.
I do my best to keep my expression blank. “Hello,” I say to all of them.
Zach turns, his expression inscrutable.
I look away and stay by Aidan.
“We ready to board?” the director asks.
There’s a chorus of yesses and everyone gets to work. The band members go up the stairs to the jet first, followed by the camera crew. Zach shoots me several wary glances, and my heart melts all over again. He is so hot. Once everyone reaches the top of the stairs, Aiden hollers, “Okay, come on back down and let us shoot that from the other direction.”
The three guys in Triple Cross all turn obediently and jog down the stairs. Aidan gestures for me to precede him up, so I walk on past everyone, climb the staircase, and duck into the dim, air-conditioned interior of the plane. The camera crew clambers in behind me, and then they block the entrance as they film the band coming up the stairs.
I wonder
But Zach doesn’t notice. He’s in a much better mood than when he arrived, and when I drop him off at the airport, he leans over to give me a hug. A hug . He presses that perfect body of his to mine. It doesn’t matter that only our arms, chests, and shoulders touch. It’s enough to make me want to rip all of his clothes off right then and there. But he grins at me, oblivious, and gets out of the car.
Finally , I tell myself. I’m glad that’s all over.
“Hello?” Aidan answers his phone that evening.
“Yeah, hi. It’s Kyra.”
“Hello, Kyra! Do you have an answer for me?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you come be my assistant?”
“Yeah,” I say. “When do we leave?”
Zach: So how are you? Thanks for the coffee :-)
Zach: The photo shoot was kinda crazy. They wanted me to wrap a live snake around my neck.
Zach: So how are things in Albuquerque? How’s the job?
Zach: Are you mad at me?
Zach: Can we talk? Call me?
When Jason buys me a new phone as a going-away present, I ask for a new number too, and that finally ends the text-torture. I’m a wreck. I go through the motions of my life, of getting packed and ready for Europe, but I’m numb with uncertainty.
When my parents drive me to the airport to catch my flight, they seem unaware of how tied in knots I am. The first leg of my journey is to go from Albuquerque to LA, Triple Cross’s home base. That flight takes a couple of hours. At LAX, I get picked up by a dark SUV with a window shutting me off from the driver. This vehicle takes me to another airport where the band’s private jet is parked. Aidan opens the door when I arrive. “Kyra Armijo,” he says.
“Hi, Aidan. Reporting for duty.” I descend into the slightly muggy air.
“At ease,” he returns the jibe. “On this part of the job, we’re just shooting a bunch of candid footage. Thing is, the jet’s only so big, so odds are you might end up in some of the shots.”
“Well, I’ll do my best to stay out.”
“If you want to sign a release, then it doesn’t have to be an issue.”
I shake my head. That was one thing Jen and her mother had drilled into my head—stay behind the camera—not that I really need any reminding. “No, I’m here to learn about film. Best if I just focus on that.” I make a mental note that he tried to get me to sign a legal document the first second I reported for work, but I append to that another mental note that I’m on edge right now because I’m about to see Zach again.
With guys hauling my luggage for me, I feel at loose ends as I walk with Aidan to the waiting jet. The first stop on the European tour is going to be Madrid, then Lisbon, Geneva, Rome, Athens, Istanbul, Warsaw, Berlin, Stockholm, Paris, and finally London. I wonder what my passport is going to look like by the end of this.
The members of the band are all standing, clustered around the bottom of the stairs, discussing something or other with the camera crew. Ben sees me first and calls out, “Kyra! Hey, girl!”
Zach, who has his back to me, goes rigid.
I do my best to keep my expression blank. “Hello,” I say to all of them.
Zach turns, his expression inscrutable.
I look away and stay by Aidan.
“We ready to board?” the director asks.
There’s a chorus of yesses and everyone gets to work. The band members go up the stairs to the jet first, followed by the camera crew. Zach shoots me several wary glances, and my heart melts all over again. He is so hot. Once everyone reaches the top of the stairs, Aiden hollers, “Okay, come on back down and let us shoot that from the other direction.”
The three guys in Triple Cross all turn obediently and jog down the stairs. Aidan gestures for me to precede him up, so I walk on past everyone, climb the staircase, and duck into the dim, air-conditioned interior of the plane. The camera crew clambers in behind me, and then they block the entrance as they film the band coming up the stairs.
I wonder
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