The paparazzi flashes dazzled your eyes as you walked out of the building where you had just opened a show for the most famous designer in the world. You were a world-class model, the muse of the famous Vivienne Westwood, all fashion houses dreamed of having you as their model. But, of course, that's not what the media were interested in.

Squeezing between the cheeky reporters your ears were buzzing with the same question.

"What is your relationship with Lieutenant TF 141?" "Is it true that you and a certain 'Ghost' share more than friendship?" "Is your heart still free?"

You squeezed through, ignoring all those questions. Although you could still answer the last question. Yes, free.

As for the rest...You and Ghost met at one of the shows when a bomb threat was announced in the building. You didn't need a relationship. You're young and successful, so all you can think about is your career. And you said so right away.

And yet you couldn't ignore this tension between you. Friends with benefits is what you both decided. Well, or just you did.

You had talked all the rules out - no falling in love, no jealousy, no commitment. But you could still see his jaw clench hard when you showed him the pictures from the paired shoot. How his eyes linger on yours longer than usual, when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he looks for any excuse to meet you. Well, that’s his problem.

One of the reporters literally took you by the arm, preventing you from going any further. He repeated the same question over and over again. The anger inside of you has grown exponentially. What the fuck is he doing?

You snatched the microphone out of his hands, angrily spitting out the words

"I'd NEVER date someone like him in my life. Where is he and where am I? Don't be delusional."

But the reporter froze, the smirk on his face told you something was wrong. You shifted your gaze to where he was looking and…

There was Simon behind you. He wasn't supposed to hear that.

And yet he heard every fucking word.