《Raine》09 | Contract

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Raine looked up from the table, asking: "Name?"

The dawn light streaming in through the window behind filtered through the curtains, just enough for her to see the faint silhouette of his lithe figure unbuttoning his shirt. He turned at her voice, "Zeland."

"How many 'a's?" She asked, her pen twirling unconsciously at the flex of his muscle as he pulled it off.

"One."

She wondered if he could see her staring at him from behind the curtains. Whoever situated the changing curtains in front of the window must be a desperate genius.

"Last name?" She focused on the document, unhappy about the tips of her ears she could feel tingeing a faint pink. She'd seen plenty of models strutting around with a lack of clothing only enough to cover their junks, so what was she getting all flustered about?

"Boeis."

Her nose wrinkled in distaste. "B-o-y-s?"

She heard a short laugh. "B-o-e-i-s."

The curtains zipped open, and he walked over, dumping the clothes he changed out on the table beside Raine. His tall shadow fell over her, and her pen paused for the slightest moment, before resuming its illegible rail.

Finishing, she pushed the contract towards him; her cold fingers that touched his warm ones as she passed her pen over seemed to melt in his unusual intensity.

"Sign here, here and here." She pointed, flipping the pages, "this is a one-time thingy, so don't worry about any bonds or whatever. Payment is as listed on the second page."

For some reason, she was hyper-conscious of his presence right beside her, and that their elbows were a hair's breath away from touching.

He picked up the paper, his eyes skimming through the fine print. Raine had seen a lot of models around here at Zoe's aunt's studio, and had even managed a few of them for a period of time, so by right, she should be pretty used to being around people gliding through life on the high end of the attractiveness spectrum, immune even.

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Yet, for some reason, she found her fingers rubbing themselves together—a telltale sign of her jitters—a very common symptom around him despite only having met him less than two hour ago.

"Sign where?" He asked, eyes lifting to meet hers. She blinked, momentarily dazed by his grey iris and sweepingly long eyelashes, before flipping the papers in his hand for him to see.

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