And it’s not like I don’t trust him. I know he won’t show any of his boys or do anything nefarious with my pics—he’s not like that, not at all—but there is also the voice in the back of my head that knows it’s a risky situation no matter what. You never know. If a picture is worth a thousand words, nudes are priceless sagas that can be misinterpreted in more ways than the Bible.

Nate nods absently. “I’ll do it later.”

I know he will. I let it go. “So how long are you here for again?”

“Training starts back up in a few weeks. Supposed to take it easy until then, but I think I’m still gonna hit up the gym in the morning while I’m here. Maximize the momentum.” His head turns on the pillow. “When do you find out if you got picked for that Milan gig?”

I pause, surprised that he even remembered. At the end of the spring internship, one of the interns at Van Doren will be selected to work from their showroom in Italy for three weeks, all expenses paid, to help prep the spring collection. It’s a dreamy assignment with insane perks, especially for someone like me. I’ve never been outside the tristate area, let alone to one of the other major fashion capitals of the world.

I don’t want to tell Nate about what happened today. What that woman said to me. I don’t want to kill his mood. He seems genuinely happy, and it doesn’t feel fair to dump all my bad news onto his lap when he’s just touched ground.

“Interviews are next week,” I say lazily. “But I’m not even gonna get my hopes up.”

If life has taught me anything, it’s to not go into shit with expectations. That’s the only way to truly be disappointed, and sometimes disappointment is the most searing kind of pain because you have to grieve what never became, like a stillbirth. And then there’s the whole on-the-edge-of-getting-fired thing.

Nate leans over, his body a pool of warmth against mine. “Why not? You’re perfect for that gig. Isn’t this the kind of thing you’ve been—”

“Yeah, but you know how it goes with jobs like this. It’s who you know, not what you know or how hard you’re willing to work. It’s how melanin deficient you are and the kind of stock you come from.” I shrug and hope my attempt at nonchalance doesn’t look as forced as it feels. “Pretty sure my chances of getting it are lower than my chances of winning the Power Ball tonight and I didn’t even buy a ticket.”

Nate gives me a look. I know that look.