Second chance runaway

I placed my phone on the bed beside me, sinking back against the pillows. Finding a job online seemed much harder than I remembered, but I supposed that was just the nature of things in 2018. Online jobs didn't pay as much as they do now, I thought, a tinge of frustration creeping into my thoughts. But no matter. I still had one more avenue to explore.

With a determined sigh, I rose from the bed and grabbed a jacket. "Just need to check outside now," I muttered to myself, slipping into the warmth of the jacket before swinging open the door to my room. As I descended the stairs, I found my mother sitting in her usual armchair, a scowl etched deeply on her face as she glared at me.

"Where do you think you're going?" she snapped, her voice dripping with disdain. "I remind you that you still haven't prepared breakfast, and your sister and I are starving."

I heard Clara's stifled laughter from the next room, fueling my irritation. "Well, if you're hungry too, you can always prepare your own food," I retorted, my voice sharp with defiance, before stepping out of the house, ignoring my mother's indignant protests.

Once outside, a sense of freedom washed over me, and I couldn't help but laugh softly to myself. Los Angeles sprawled before me, a vibrant tapestry of colors and sounds. The hustle and bustle of the city surrounded me, the air alive with the promise of opportunity.

As I began to walk, my mind raced with thoughts of my next move. Where was I even headed? And did anyone even want a novice model like me? Should I just go to a modeling agency? But then again, they'd probably ignore me. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained, I reasoned, pushing the doubts aside as I strolled through the city streets.

It had been so long since I had been able to walk with a clear mind, free from the weight of my problems. I marveled at the feeling, relishing in the simple pleasure of being able to wander aimlessly, without a care in the world.

Eventually, I found myself in a park, the sun dappling the grass with golden light. I settled onto a bench, watching as people passed by, their laughter and chatter filling the air. "Starting to get bored," I mused to myself, my gaze drifting lazily across the park.

That's when I noticed it, just a few meters away and across the lake—a photo shoot. A small team of people bustled around, adjusting lights and cameras, while a model posed against the backdrop of the shimmering water. My heart skipped a beat at the sight, a flicker of excitement igniting within me.

Could this be my chance? I wondered, my mind racing with possibilities. Without another thought, I rose from the bench and made my way toward the shoot, determination blazing in my eyes. This was it—my opportunity to seize control of my destiny, to make my dreams a reality. And I wasn't about to let it slip through my fingers.

As I edged closer to the commotion, the model's presence was undeniable. She was a vision of anger, her emerald eyes blazing with fury, contrasting starkly against her porcelain skin.

Her raven-black hair cascaded down her back in tumultuous waves, a stark frame to the high cheekbones and full lips that now twisted into a scowl. She was tall, her posture regal even in her rage, and she moved with a grace that belied her current temperament.

The photographer, a man of average height, seemed to shrink under her gaze. His messy sandy hair and stubble gave him a rugged look, but there was a softness in his hazel eyes that hinted at a kind nature.

He wore a simple white tee and jeans, his camera strap slung across his chest like a bandolier. He was young, probably in his late twenties, and his hands, though steady when they held the camera, now trembled slightly.

"I don't want to work with you anymore," the model declared, her voice echoing across the lake. With a swift motion, she hurled the camera at him. It missed by inches, crashing to the ground and splintering into pieces.

The photographer, mouth agape, could only watch as she stormed off, her heels digging into the soft earth with every step. He took off after her, desperation in his stride, but it was too late; she was already disappearing into the throng of park-goers.

In his haste, he didn't see me, and we collided. The world spun as we tumbled to the ground, a tangle of limbs and apologies. "Sorry," he gasped, scrambling to his feet. He extended a hand to me, which I accepted, brushing off the dirt from my clothes as I stood.

He assessed me for a moment, his gaze traveling from my face down to my shoes and back up again. "Would you be tempted to do a little shoot? I'm not known, not even as a photographer at all, but you are clearly breathtaking," he offered, a hopeful lilt in his voice.

I hesitated, my mind a whirlwind of doubt and possibility. But what did I have to lose? "Yes," I found myself saying, the word escaping my lips before I could second-guess it.

He smiled, a genuine, relieved smile, and gestured toward the lake. "Let's make magic happen," he said, his enthusiasm infectious.

We worked together, finding our rhythm. He directed me with a gentle hand, his instructions clear and encouraging. "Tilt your head… yes, just like that. Now, look off into the distance, as if you're waiting for someone, but you're not sure they'll come."

I followed his cues, letting myself fall into the role of the model. The sunlight danced across my skin, the breeze played with my hair, and for a moment, I was no longer Elena, the job-seeker. I was someone else entirely, someone captivating and mysterious.

The photographer clicked away, his camera now a borrowed one from an onlooker who had been captivated by our impromptu session. "These are stunning," he murmured, showing me a glimpse of the photos. "You're a natural."

As the shoot wrapped up, a small crowd had gathered, their applause warm and genuine. I felt a flush of pride, a spark of hope. Maybe this was the beginning of something new, something exciting.

"Thank you," I said to the photographer, my heart racing with adrenaline. "I needed this today."

He grinned, tucking the camera away. "No, thank you. You saved the day. Let's grab a coffee, my treat. I want to hear everything about you. And maybe discuss where these photos could take us next."

As we walked away from the park, I couldn't help but feel that, perhaps, my luck was finally turning. The city of dreams might just have a place for me after all.