Before you read:
First, I know what you're thinking. You're shaking your head and frowning at me, shunning me and pointing at me. I'll just say it.
I'm an idiot. Like, who leaves two multichap fanfictions to do this insignificant idea? Me, as you can tell. (By the way, go check them out. You won't regret it.)
But also, IDDI Season 2. Can you believe it? The dorks go on.
And so should this story. I don't own IDDI.
The sunlight streamed in through the tall window panes that bordered Jasmine's moderately spacious office. For the past few days, her work was busy, since fall was an important time for fashion and design. Frantic clothes outlet owners called for model shots wearing their clothes, and it had gotten to the point where she'd been cramped in the office for hours, meeting models and assigning them to photo shoots. For her, it was doubly busy since she was in charge of the model's outfits, and also was designing for a part time job that she did for extra money. Right now, though, neither jobs were fun.
Jasmine leaned back on her new black executive chair, breathing in the smell of leather. She closed her eyes. She wanted some coffee, but the fact that she had nothing to do was already enough for her. Peace at last.
Then, to her disappointment, the intercom crackled, "Logan Watson, to office two-two-three, in five minutes. Logan Watson, office two-two-three. Thank you."
Crap day, Jasmine thought grumpily, leaning even further back onto the poor chair. She threw an eraser across the room, with hit the platform that confirmed that she, in fact, was room two-two-three. Crap week, crap month, crap year.
As if on cue, her boss barreled into the room. He was a tall, distinguished man who always meant business - and to be honest, Jasmine's (normally) bright attitude clashed a lot with her boss's cynical outlook. Judging from the look on his face, he meant a shitload of business.
"Jasmine, this model is important. Apparently he's pretty famous in the modeling world, and got laid off of his old company. You need to make sure we have a grip on him. His working at this modeling agency will raise our success bar. Right now we have some pretty tight competition with the other companies - this guy could be our breakthrough."
"I got it, I got it." Jasmine propped her combat boots up onto her new, sleek wooden table, while the boss watched with gritted teeth. His reaction only urged on her growing irritation. "Just like every other fricken model today."
He narrowed his eyes. "Get the job done. Find a better attitude while you're at it."
Jasmine bit back a retort while he walked away, sitting up indignantly as she swallowed down the colorful language that was at the tip of her tongue. She knew that the constant work was driving both of them, if not everyone in the whole building, out of their mind. The new model suddenly walked in without warning, and stared at her retreating boss in amazement, no doubt hearing every single word they'd just uttered in spite about each other.
"Nice guy, huh?" he remarked, standing in the doorway. He looked at her boots, which were still resting proudly on her desk.
"Yeah," sighed Jasmine, too worn down and exasperated to explain about her "fantastic" day. "Why don't you come sit down."
Now that her annoyance edged away, she noticed that the model was actually really good-looking. She'd seen a lot of hot models, but dang. His hair was a dark-blond ruffled mess, and his arms were pretty freaking noteworthy, if she did say so herself. He sat into the chair in front of her desk, and Jasmine slid her legs off the table.
She studied him carefully. "Logan, is it?"
"Watson," he said. He seemed completely relaxed.
After an awkward moment, Jasmine had grabbed a sheet of paper from her desk's shelf and scribbled down his name. Logan Watson. "Alright. Well, once you get started, I can get you hooked up with Levi's or Calvin Klein, they're pretty popular. Abercrombie is filled up, as usual, but when I find a space - hey, are you cool with not wearing a shirt at a shoot?"
The model, Logan, sent her a sideways smile, one that was almost mixed with mischief. "I think I can handle that."
"Great." Jasmine tried to send thoughts of him without a shirt out of her mind. He was here for a professional reason, she reminded herself. Back to business. "Headshots please? Resumé too, if you don't mind."
He handed her a cream envelope, which she opened warily. Inside were headshots and a crisp resumé, paperclipped with some magazine pictures of him. She scanned them over, trying not to stare at them too long. It turned out Logan had already modeled before, and one of his pictures was in one of the issues on her magazine shelf. She hoped he didn't notice.
"It's fine," she said, handing him back the papers. "Just give these to the secretary at the front desk. You have a pretty good chance of getting in, judging from all of these gigs."
He grinned. "I get around. I get the results next month, right?"
"Yeah," Jasmine said. She stood up and smoothed down her black skater skirt, making an attempt to look as dignified as possible. "I'll see you then."
"See you." He ran a hand through his hair, raised his eyebrows at her, which Jasmine subconsciously found appealing.
Then he left. Jasmine almost wished that she'd invited him to get coffee next week, or at least asked for his number. She felt a grudging attraction to that boy, enjoyed his laid back attitude and easy-going smirk. After all, she did have a history of flings, more than probably all of her friend's ex-boyfriends combined.
This is just business, she scolded herself, frowning. This is what you pay for having your dream job. Plus…
She couldn't face it yet. The last time she had a real boyfriend…
"Would you like some coffee?" The secretary asked in her sugary-sweet voice, for the third time since Lindy had gotten there. "It's an awfully long wait, if you ask me."
"I'm fine, thanks," Lindy replied, glancing at the shiny espresso maker behind her, only wishing to get out of the the building. It made her uncomfortable, to be honest, to think that star models walking in the airplane-fragrant lobby and had coffee from that shiny coffee maker, handed to them by the flawless hand of the secretary. It also irked her a little that her brother was a model, whose picture was found on almost every single store that she shopped at. Ugh.
After another long fifteen-minute wait, Logan finally emerged from the glass elevator, only glancing for a moment at the large images of now-famous models. The ends of his mouth were turned up slightly.
"Hey, Linds," he said, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.
"How was it?"
"It was fine," said Logan. He seemed to be distracted by a thought. "The manager who hooked me up was pretty cool."
"Nice," Lindy said, wondering what actually happened up there.
"The manager's a designer, did you know? I read it on this flyer tacked up on her wall."
"Cool. Alright, we gotta get moving, Model Boy." She glanced at her watch. She had a math competition to attend, and a date later. Her chest bubbled up with excitement, remembering the special dress she'd bought for the occasion, and she started for the door with a smile on her face. She'd just walked through -
Oof. Well, she hadn't gone through the doorway yet, but she'd bumped into a guy on her way out. He was tall, brown-haired, and incredibly flustered. He'd dropped his things - boxes and some keys - on the ground by accident. He was in the middle of picking things up when Lindy got to her senses.
"Ohmygosh I am so sorry for knocking your things over and I didn't mean to - oh my god I'm sorry," she stammered, bending over to pick the things up with him.
"It's fine, really," the boy said, shrugging. He let out a short, awkward laugh. "It happens to the best of us - oh no, it's fine, I got this."
After a moment, the possessions were back in his hands, and he smiled tentatively at them. "Thanks for helping me pick it up."
"It's no problem," assured Lindy, "I was the one who knocked it down anyways."
When he left, Lindy turned to Logan, whom she noticed was stifling laughter. She made a face at him, cheeks heating up from embarrassment.
"Smooth, Lindy," he choked out in obvious delight, "smooth."
"Shut up."
Looking down at the ground, she noticed he had left something behind. It was an iPhone 5s, in nearly perfect condition, no phone case around it or anything. She frowned and picked it up. "He left something here."
"Yeah, no kidding," Logan muttered, taking it from her and examining it. He looked at the direction he left, but there was no sign of him. "Wow, losing an iPhone. That sucks."
"How are we going to get it back to him?" Lindy was freaking out. She didn't usually get a guy's number, but now she had a stranger's phone - a little more than what she wanted, to be honest. "We barely know this guy. Who am I kidding, we don't know this guy at all!"
Logan thought for a moment, then: "Hey! I could see if the manager - you know, the designing one - knows."
Lindy stared at him, dumbfounded. "Hey, that's the smartest thing you've said all week."
"You underestimate me, sister."
They raced to the secretary's desk, who seemed to enjoy herself with watching the whole fiasco unfold.
"Do you know the number of the manager whose name is Jasmine?" Logan asked.
The secretary calmly pulled out the Ditka Modeling Agency phonebook. "Well, let's see here, who are you - ?"
They had taken the phonebook to the side and were tearing through it. Logan's phone was ready in his hand. "Jasmine Alger, Jasmine Ang…" Lindy muttered under her breath.
She had a feeling she was going to be late for her math competition.