Free Aberration by Iris Blaire Page A

says. A game-changer. I should be proud of myself, but there is something about working while I'm at home that's making me feel uneasy. As a person, I evolved. Women are afraid to admit a love for something like sex. They're worried about guys taking advantage of them or calling them whores. I had a fair share of that when I went to college, right when I began figuring out who I really was.
    I lost my virginity in high school, but I was secretive about it. I avoided being called a whore or a slut. Hell, I even managed avoiding being called a bitch.
    There's a thread on me in this forum online. I found it by Googling myself once when I was drunk. It was some men's rights forum... I should have known not to step into Trollsville.
    I read her Huffington Post interview. This dumb slut thinks she can just walk in and get famous off an industry because she's a woman. Have you seen her softcore garbage? The only place a bitch belongs in porn is when she's being bent over and fucked on screen. Maybe McCulley needs to be shown her place.
    I hold my head high and pretend people aren't saying these kinds of things about me, because it'll only affect my work if I dwell on it. Sometimes that nagging voice makes itself known — you could have avoided this. Remember those days when you weren't called a slut or a bitch? Remember when you were insecure with yourself and kept up the good girl image because you were so afraid of being disowned by anyone because you loved sex?
    I read the end of the email. Here are the interviews I have lined up. It's followed by a list of high-traffic blogs and a sprinkling of news sites.
    Slut or not, this is who I am.
    I slide my phone from my pocket and pull up my message thread with Jaime.
    I miss you , I type, and hover over the send button. The epiphany finally hits me that I'm afraid of him. Afraid this gentle, sexy, open-minded Jaime is just a lie and he's the unchanged boy I grew up with, a boy who really has a stream of thoughts similar to that forum post running through his head.
    I delete the message. Then I trudge to my bed and belly flop onto my mattress, falling asleep with my clothes on.

    ///

    When Jaime and Cam are invited to go golfing with my Dad, I know Jaime is getting onto really good terms with my parents.
    Definitely better terms than he was on, even before the internship.
    It seems that he's on better terms with Cam too. As they're packing their gear into Dad's Escalade, I hear them bantering like they used to in high school as I sit at the kitchen island and eat a late breakfast.
    They start talking about girls, and I hear Cam list off the names of my models. He's asking Jaime who he thinks is hot as they walk into the kitchen.
    Jaime and I make eye contact.
    "I don't pick favorites," says Jaime. "Britain is the one who gets to be choosy with her models."
    "They all know how to work with what they have." I slowly scrape my spoon along the edge of my yogurt bowl.
    "You have to think one is hotter than the rest,” Cam says.
    I slow-blink, and my eyes meet Jaime's again. He leans against the island and says. "I do think one is hotter than the rest," and nods toward me. My heart nearly stops in my chest as I think he's actually outing me and him to Cam before he tacks on, "Britain knows."
    I exhale, attempting to cover my brief moment of terror with an indifferent shrug. "During his audition he won us over when Delilah worked him."
    "I worked her," Jaime counters, and then smirks. "But yes, Delilah is a gorgeous woman."
    "Eh," Cam says loudly, pulling orange juice from the fridge. "She's okay. Don't have a thing for redheads, really."
    Jaime actually looks kind of irritated. "If you're seriously judging a girl's modeling by the color of her hair then you're doing it wrong. Jesus."
    I snort my laughter, and quickly cover my mouth with the hand not holding my spoon.
    Cam spins, his eyes darting between me and Jaime, looking suspicious. "Did Britain actually laugh at your joke? Wow... it's