Blaire groaned as he groped around for the alarm coming from somewhere underneath the pile of clothes. He cursed under his breath when he couldn’t find it and knew that if he just ignored it, the incessant shrill would simply grow louder.
He grumbled as he fumbled blindly for the alarm and finally found it wedged between a pair of old smelly socks. He attempted to switch it off in the blackness and instead ended up accidentally breaking it.
He stared at the broken alarm clock, shrugged and made his way to the blinds. He drew the curtains back and flinched against the sudden onslaught on his senses. Bringing his hands up to shield his bloodshot eyes, they traveled the expanse of the room looking for his pack of cigarettes.
He didn’t smoke often because it would be hard to breathe properly while he was in a game, but he liked to indulge every now and again, and this was one of those days. He was so hung-over, he could barely think straight, and not for the first time, he wondered why people drank so much when the next day it felt like multiple hammers joined by a crew of men drilling holes into his head.
He picked up his pack of cigarettes, placed one between his lips and fumbled around in his jeans for a lighter.
“The lighter is on the floor,” a husky voice said from the bed.
Blaire froze as he kept his eyes trained on the floor and tried to remember the name of the woman in his bed.
Think, he urged his brain as he racked it for a clue. Something with an H - Henrietta, Harriett.
Hannah, a voice in the back of his head screamed. His head snapped up. “Hannah, babe, why are you awake?” He strolled over to where she was laying down looking hot as hell and making Blaire reconsider getting to that photo shoot on time.
She pouted at him. “Don’t feel like round two?”
“Round two?” He chuckled as he twirled a lose strand of hair between his thumb and forefinger. “Baby, I’m pretty sure we reached round six or seven.”
He found the lighter underneath the bed and cupped the cigarette between his fingers while he tried to light it up. He exhaled deeply and let the smoke fill his lungs before he viewed Hannah through a cloud of smoke.
“Well, how about round eight then?”
Blaire considered carefully as he took a long drag of his cigarette and let the smoke out in O’s that flew right past Hannah’s face. She scrunched her face in annoyance, but he knew that she wouldn’t call him out on that. No woman ever did. They were too afraid he’d just up and leave. No woman, that is, except Sienna.
He shook his head to clear away the remnants of her ghost, and to answer Hannah’s question. “Sorry sweetheart, I’ve got somewhere I’ve got to be.”
Blaire found an ash tray on the table, and stubbed out his cigarette before turning around to give Hannah a brief wink. Hannah looked at him coquettishly, and he had to admit it made him feel very hot and bothered, but he made it a point never to sleep with the same person twice, lest they started to expect things, and this wasn’t any different.
Blaire noticed how Hannah eyed the tattoos on his back with mild curiosity. He had Led zeppelin inked onto his arm, and he had a tattoo of a Latin saying on his back, something he had taken in history class. He also had a bunch of other odd quirky tattoos that he got just because he thought the tattoos would make him look bad ass, and he did.
He smirked as he casually strolled over to her side and took her hand in his. He stroked it for a minute then guided her hand so it was placed firmly over his crotch. “This is how horny you make me. I want to do all kinds of things to you, and in all kinds of ways.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Hannah gulp and shift closer. He knew that she was gulping because she was secretly picturing it. He leaned forward and gently nibbled on her ear before pulling back and straightening his sweat pants.
“You can show yourself out, sweetheart.” He strolled towards the bathroom and switched on the shower head. As he waited for the water to heat up, he kept his ears perked for the sound of the door shutting.
Sure enough, a few minutes later he heard the quiet click that let him know that Hannah had left. Its better this way, he thought to himself as he stripped to his boxers. He knew that most of them only wanted one thing from him. To spend a night with the notorious bad boy, Blaire Hamilton, was like being the most popular girl in high school. Everybody would want to be them.
He kicked off his boxers and stepped into the shower. A sigh of relief immediately escaped his lips as he felt the hot water cascade down his back, soothing away the sore muscles.
He emerged a while later and donned a pair of ripped jeans and a form fitting black shirt. He found his keys after a couple of failed attempts and as he rummaged around for his phone, he heard it ring.
He finally found it a moment later. “I’m on my way,” he said as soon as he found the phone.
“We’re waiting for you,” his manager’s voice came in through the speaker sounding mildly strained. He wasn’t that late, was he?
He took a quick glance at the watch. Well, maybe he was a little late, but it wasn’t his fault that he spent that long debating whether or not to ravish Hannah.
He pulled on his jacket and grabbed his helmet on his way out. He hopped onto his Harley Davidson, revved up the engine and slipped on his helmet. Once he was sure he was ready to go, he pressed his foot to the gas and sped off towards the downtown modeling center.
***
Blaire tried not to scowl as he squirmed in his seat while the hairstylist and makeup artist fretted over him. He rolled his eyes and made a mental note to kill his manager, Bill, later.
The only reason he had agreed to the photoshoot was because it was good publicity, and it would probably help pay for a brand new bike.
He dared to smile at the idea as he heard a drawer fly open behind him. The hairstylist landed with a loud smack onto the floor, and everybody suppressed their giggles at the sight of her sprawled there, looking sheepish.
“I meant to do that,” she called out as everybody openly laughed. Once they were finally done, Blaire ripped off the apron and allowed himself to fully look in the mirror. They hadn’t cut his hair too much. They left enough to make it look artfully messy.
Blaire stood up and saw a girl giggle from the corner of his eye. He gave her a quick wink as he headed towards the set. He might have time for that later, but for now it was all about the work.
He headed to where they told him to stand, and he stood on his mark and hooked his thumbs onto his pockets.
“Move a little to the side,” the photographer called out from behind the camera.
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure I know where my mark is.”
The photographer lowered the camera and faced him with a mildly annoyed look on his face. “Be that as it may, honey, you still have to move a little bit to the right.”
Blaire took his time shifting like the photographer wanted him to, just to tick him off. When the photographer bent over to take his picture, he kept yelling out encouraging comments, lewd remarks, really anything that could get anyone inspired.
“I’m pretty sure you’ve never met a man like me,” Blaire flexed his muscles and waggled his eyebrows, much to the delight of all the women in the room.
“Sure, hon, whatever you say.” The photographer continued to move left and right as he fixed lighting, angles, and so on.
Blaire felt a brief flash of annoyance over the fact that the man wasn’t treating him with the same stupefied admiration he got from everyone. He shrugged it off though.
“Great job,” the photographer called out as he bent over to adjust some things on his camera. Blaire could see him going through the camera and pursing his lips. He could never tell whether it was a good or bad thing.
“Now we move onto the bedroom part,” the photographer called out as someone helped him take his shirt off, and then sprayed him with some sort of brown stuff that made his skin turn darker.
He glowered at his manager, knowing very well that he knew how he hated chemical products.
His manager lifted up his shoulders and shrugged in an ‘I don’t know' motion. Blaire sighed gruffly as he lay down on the bed and propped himself up.
“Can you do a sexy smolder and also turn over to the side a little, so we can get a glimpse of that tat on your back? Women go crazy over that.”
Blaire obliged, and the man paused to stare at him. He stroked his chin thoughtfully before snapping his fingers.
“Sienna!” he called out.
Blaire froze as he saw the woman he had been thinking about every so often come out and halt in her tracks as she spotted him.
Blaire behaved as if he hadn’t seen her in a long time, when in reality it probably wasn’t that long, but 5 years can feel like a lifetime sometimes.
Her chestnut brown hair was longer than he remembered, and it was no longer shoulder length. It was almost down to her waist, she was still tall and lean, but she had filled out a bit, making her look all the curvier.
His blue eyes met her weary hazel ones, and for a minute, it was like all the years between them melted away, and they were back on campus standing frozen in the middle of a throng of people rushing by.
An involuntary smile made its way to his lips as he stared at her, her lips curved up, and she almost smiled back, but then she frowned and strode forward purposefully.
Blaire tried not to notice the way the jeans clung to her hips, or the way her shirt showed off her impressive form.
She stood in front of him and hunched over. “Close ups?” she called out to her boss.
“You got it,” he responded.
She began to chew on her bottom lip as she studied his features carefully. She circled him a few times before finally coming back to the front and giving him a small smile. “Just try to relax.”
Yeah, how hard how could it be to relax around the only woman he had ever really loved, and whose heart he had broken so many years before? How was he supposed to do that when she was looking at him with those eyes that he swore could see straight into his soul?
It wasn’t hard, not one little bit.