"Okay, I want this done quickly and efficiently," the shoot director said as soon as I stepped in. The lights grew even brighter, and countless eyes were on me—criticizing, judging.
I balled my hands into fists, feeling nausea creep in. Must not freak out, Daisy. You must not freak out.
I'm gonna freak out! Maybe throw up, yell, and run away.
The fashion world was never really my thing.
I looked down, taking deep breaths to stay calm. The door to the café opened, and Justin stepped in.
For a moment, I think my heart stopped.
Then it hopped.
Then it did backflips and cartwheels, finishing with a tumble.
I'd never seen anyone look so handsome in cargo pants and a simple hoodie. His wild, wavy hair was moussed up, shooting into the air and demanding attention. His eyes seemed greener than before, his face prettier than ever.
Is it me, or does he get prettier every two hours?
A few makeup and prep artists fussed over him as soon as he stepped in, dusting his face and patting his hair. People were patting my face, too, but I was too lost in his dreamy gaze to notice.
He looked up at me, his eyes lighting up as he made his way over.
Oh crud! Don't come here, Justin! I'll gobble you up.
Oh no, I'm sure he can see the drool hanging off the side of my lips.
I had to gulp and gasp just to breathe, and he was only two feet away.
One step closer, and I'll die of CRJBS—Can't Resist Justin's Beauty Syndrome.
"Hey," he said, slightly out of breath.
I smiled. "Hey," I replied, probably breathing through my ears and nose at this point.
"You look great, by the way."
"Th…thanks. And y…you too."
"So, are you—"
"Justin Hayes, you're needed for the camera testing!" a cameraman yelled, cutting him off.
He waved at me, and I waved back, grinning like a total dolt. The butterflies in my belly did jumping jacks and dizzy wheels.
"Fill in, fill in!" someone in outrageously high platforms commanded, prancing up to Justin.
I gaped at her—tall, scary, and sporting a face smudged in what I'd call a colorful rainbow of disarray.
Coming from someone whose style is exactly that, that's saying something.
She wore a bright gold wig atop a brightly powdered face with brightly colored lashes as long as my wrist. Her dress was a loud golden yellow, tight all the way down.
Surely Effie from The Hunger Games doesn't walk around in broad daylight, does she?
She pranced over to me, towering, majestic, with her bright, beady eyes darting this way and that.
"Eez zis ze girl, Harry?" she asked in a thick French accent that sounded forced.
Harry danced up to us, fluttering around me like a lost butterfly.
"Surely, Marguerita. Isn't she just… exquisite?"
Her brows furrowed like he was exaggerating—which he completely was, of course.
"A redhead? Ve never use redheads."
"And that, my beloved munchiro biscuits with vanilla toppings and a cherry on top, is the look you want, Veronica! The coffee flavor you're launching is new."
He did a little jump, and I shook. Considering I'd probably be around him for a while, I'd better get used to all the jumps, twirls, and madness.
The fashion world was definitely weirder than me.
"This," Harry said, lifting a lock of my hair, "might be just what you need."
Veronica frowned, peering deep into my eyes. Harry peered deep too.
For a moment, it was just me, trying not to pee my pants, and the two fashion mongooses making me want to.
"Walk with me, Harry," she said, her eyes still on me, lips quirked.
Harry patted my shoulder and teetered off with her, giving me a thumbs-up.
So, it's settled. Veronica doesn't like me. HURRAY!
"Come on over, Daisy. Prep shots," Director Lee called. I slouched my way over, bracing myself for yet another round of having cameras shoved in my face. As I sat down, I caught Justin's gaze. He smiled—and winked.
I froze. My brain short-circuited.
Justin winked at me! What do I do? Play it cool, Daisy, play it cool. Don't read too much into it—it's probably just his model charm.
Wink back, Daisy. That's what Harriet would do. It seemed logical at the time. So, I caught his eye and gave what I thought was a flirty wink… only to overdo it. My eyelid practically got stuck halfway, and I had to awkwardly pry it open.
Justin laughed.
I smiled back, trying to pretend I wasn't feeling like the world's biggest idiot. But I was.
"Is something wrong with your eyes, Miss Thompson?" Director Lee called, squinting at me.
I forced my eyes open wide and plastered on a crooked grin. "Nope, all good," I said, adjusting the hem of my skirt.
He didn't seem convinced. "All good, Miss Thompson?"
I gave a shaky thumbs-up, desperately avoiding Justin's gaze. He was probably dying of laughter—and planning his escape from the mad, one-eyed girl after the shoot.
The cameras rolled, and Director Lee called Justin over. He strolled onto the set, as handsome as ever. Lee hovered, fussing over my hair. First, he swept it back, then forward, then to the side, until he finally seemed satisfied. He patted my face like I was some kind of doll, then smiled at us both.
"Perfect," he muttered, half the crew gawking at me like I was some rare exhibit. I shot Justin a desperate look, and he smiled, calming my burning nerves.
"Now, Justin, I want you and Daisy on the floor with the cookies and coffee—it's the concept. Casual, but charming."
We moved into position, and I fought the insane urge to devour the chocolate chip cookies right then and there. The croissants weren't safe from my fantasies, either.
I am weird, I know.
"Imagine you're swirling in coffee," Director Lee said from behind the monitor. "The waves are rich, delicious, irresistible. That's the feeling we're capturing. Can you give me that?"
I glanced at Justin. He beamed, his eyes locked on mine. "Sure," he said.
"Perfect. Lights on. We'll add a little wind for realism. Keep it natural and happy. Understood?"
"Yes," I croaked, just as Justin answered confidently.
The wind machines roared to life, blinding and disorienting me. My eyes snapped shut.
"Eyes open, Daisy!" Director Lee barked.
I forced them open, blinking furiously. We stared into the cameras, our eyes watering, our mouths closed, doing… absolutely nothing.
This is supposed to be a coffee campaign, right? How does this make anyone want coffee?
I turned to Justin. "This is a coffee campaign, right?"
He smirked, clearly holding back a laugh. "Yeah."
"Because it feels like we're advertising frozen fish," I muttered.
That did it—he laughed, his eyes crinkling with amusement.
"What do you suggest we do?" he asked.
"I don't know," I said, squinting up at the lights. "Give people a reason to want coffee. Preferably without making them imagine us lying on it every time they take a sip."
He chuckled, then suddenly grabbed my hand. My brain went haywire.
Don't blush, Daisy. Don't blush!
Oh no. I'm blushing.
I shot him a questioning look, and he raised an eyebrow, tightening his grip. "This should inspire people to buy more coffee, don't you think?"
"H-how?" I stammered, proud I managed even that much.
"We're holding hands. Inspiring wannabe couples everywhere."
"Oh, right!" I whispered-yelled. "Because half the couples in America go to cafes on their first dates!"
He laughed, and I couldn't help but laugh along.
"That's very intuitive," he teased, his eyes twinkling.
My heart did a hop, then a skip. I bit my lip as the wind whipped my hair into my face.
"How long do you think this will take?" I asked when I finally found my voice.
"It depends. Ads are quick but can take ages with retakes."
I peeked at the crew, who just stood there, staring at us like we were an alien species. Say something, people! Don't just watch!
"I like your hair," Justin said suddenly, breaking into my spiraling thoughts.
"Really?"
"It's like ginger and blonde mixed together."
"More like burned strawberries with ginger toppings," I whispered back.
He nodded, his gorgeous hair falling into his eyes. "I like your humor too."
I melted into a puddle right then and there.
"You look cute when you roll your eyes," he added, popping my nose with his finger.
OMG OMG OMG! Justin Hayes thinks I'm cute!
"Don't get too happy and start eating croissants," he teased, grinning.
I rolled my eyes dramatically, and he chuckled.
Then, out of nowhere, he tossed a handful of flower petals in my face.
"Hey! Not fair!" I yelled, grabbing a fistful and chucking it back at him.
We laughed like idiots, flowers flying everywhere. Only then did I remember: We were still being filmed.
Oh, banana splits.