Love Among Thorns

Chapter 1: I Am A Model

Alessia

There really is no way to get comfortable on an airplane, cramped legroom and seats that don't recline far enough for you to actually sleep without your head bobbing forward or worse, when it cranks to the side in the most awkward of angles until your neck knots up. Even with that donut pillow, I still can't find an angle that keeps my head right. It was exhausting though, I had back to back modeling gigs in two different time zones, now, I am on my way back to Port Harcourt where again I lose hours of time more forward and backward for me.

“Are you asleep?” I heard the voice beyond my earpods, my eyes popped open and I sighed.

“No, I never sleep on planes but not for lack of trying.”

Brianna pointed to the aisle to show me why she tried waking me up. Snacks, finally, I can't put something in my stomach. We almost missed our flight, so we had to run and skip the meal we planned to have at the airport earlier. Brianna is many things in the fashion industry, she models, she is a face of few brands and designs clothing with Donatella Versace and this makes her a legend by proxy. She and I met on a job recently and we both realized we lived in Port Harcourt city. This is how we ended up on this flight together. Her friend, Amos was the photographer for the shoot and we were both models participating in the Chanel advertisement for the new coming collection.

“Chip?” I removed my earpods and asked her.

“Always,” she smiled.

Brianna is a very pretty girl, beautiful eyes and full lips not exactly as full as mine but nice and a sweet disposition. I wouldn't call us friends exactly, this was our second time working together, so we did exchange phone numbers, though I don't care whether she ends up calling to make plans or not. I am new to Port Harcourt, just moved in so friends aren't really something I have right now but I have never been one for socializing. I won't be cliche and blame my fucked up past but I have one. A fucked up past that is.

Maybe I don't like making new friends because of all the questions they inevitably ask you in order to get to know you better, I have too many secrets to enjoy answering questions without having to lie and who can ever keep those straight. When we got our mini bags of chips, it was less than satisfying to eat the three damn chips inside while suffering an empty stomach.

“Sitting on the couch must particularly suck for someone who has flown in a private jet with a fashion industry icon.” I nudged her playfully. She had told things here and there about her career and the rest I have honestly read online or in vogue magazine.

Brianna seems to have accidentally walked onto the express train of success because she is so new to this industry and yet she has accomplished so much. She told me she just met the right people and was lucky but I also know she is talented. Maybe luck had something to do with it but having that factor is what is important. I started modeling at the age of nineteen when I was discovered by the Colombia modeling agency who liked my bare face, young and innocent looking. I was surprised when Raymond aka my complicated father actually let me do it. I just turned twenty-two, just over three years in the modeling world is enough but not a lot. I still have a name to make for myself, it gives me the opportunity to distance myself from my country and my family chaos. I actually lived in Dubai most of my life but when…nevermind.

“Umm, not really. I was a broke girl living in Asaba for school, with a million roommates and shitty jobs to cover rent. The broke girl in me still exists.” She laughed and I knew what she meant.

My family, the Santoro, are rich for sure, me however, not so much. Not if I want to distance myself from my father's money. That leaves me a broke girl renting the shittiest apartment in Port Harcourt with another model. I actually had a third roommate not very long, which meant I was sharing a room with a stranger for a while since it is only a two bedroom apartment. If you can even call that a bedroom. She found herself a sugar daddy and moved out.

“I think I might be a right of passage in the fashion world, huh? I am living the broke girl life as we speak.” I crunched up the empty chip bag, handing it to the flight attendant who was collecting trash from the aisle.

“I have only recently been making decent money, I have a successful fancy businessman brother who was kind enough to let me live with him while interning and making no money. I think I told you this already.” She stopped talking when she recalled telling me this before the shoot she and I worked on.

I had asked her questions to deter her from asking me. She can become distracted and take over the conversation if you do it right. She said she is used to talking because her boyfriend isn't a very chatty man.

“Yes, you told me.” I fixed the damn donut pillow I still have around my neck for no reason at all. I ripped it off and fixed my hair.

“I hate these things.” I plopped the pillow down on my lap.

“I know, sometimes I pull down the food tray and bend myself practically in half just to sleep on my backpack on the tray.” She showed me as she bent forward.

“You are very short, I can't fit.” I chuckled.

I am a model, I have model height, long legs, an elegant neck and a thin frame. I can't bend in half and fit between two cramped airplane seats.

“I looked smaller next to you but I am average height.” She replied and I laughed this time.

“No, you are short.” I broke the news to her.

“No, I am four and a half.” She muttered.

“I am five feet which is actually shorter for a model but my frame gives the illusion of seeming taller than that.” I watched her eyes cast down my body and she shrugged like she agreed.

The ding above us signified the flight attendant coming over the intercom. The voice was too cheery for my tired ears, I yawned to prove it.

“When I get home, I am going to cash so hard.” Brianna shoved something underneath the seat in front of her before clicking her belt.

I hadn't lifted my seats to its upright position yet, u hate the stiff back.