Name: Charlene Viljoen

D.O.B: 02/03/2000

Height: 5 ft 9 in (1.75 m)

Weight: 61kg

Sign of the Zodiac: Pisces

Eye colour: Green

Nationality: South African

Occupation: Model

Fashion Week

Taking a break from unpacking, Charlie headed to the kitchen to make herself an almond smoothie. She sipped the creamy drink while perched on the window seat, sunlight streaming through the double glazing. Carelessly, she flipped through a magazine. She was on the lookout for inspiration for a new haircut. She'd decided to go short. It was a big move for her, and she didn't want to rush it. On her way back to her room, she bumped into Delyan coming through the front door. He greeted her and hung his coat on the rack, glancing at the boxes lined up against the hallway wall.

"Do you want me to move these in?" he asked.

"That'd be great. Thanks." She was surprised he remembered. They'd barely spoken since she moved in, each politely avoiding the other.

"Just the two marked 'books,'" she said, walking towards him. "I can handle the rest."

He picked up a box, and she did the same. It occurred to her that she had too much stuff for her transient lifestyle. She wished she'd had the foresight to get rid of some of it before coming. Then again, her possessions were significant to her. Everything she owned, she cherished and always struggled to discard anything she considered her property.

"What are you doing tonight?" Delyan asked as they made their way up the stairs to her room.

"Not much. I have a presentation at Villa Necchi Campiglio at five o'clock."

At her bedroom door, she balanced her box in one hand and opened the door with the other, indicating for him to step inside.

"Just put that by the end of the bed?"

Delyan complied. "So...work then..." he said, looking directly at her. "And?"

Is he going to ask me out!?

Charlie twisted a lock of hair around her finger. It was hard to concentrate. His gaze was unnerving.

"I'd be free at seven... if you wanted to maybe... do something after work?" She watched his face, but it revealed nothing. "I can't stay out late though."

"Me neither," he said, glancing around her room. "I'm up at four for Paris."

Clothes were already spilling out of her closet. She crossed the room and shut the mirrored door.

"What are you doing in Paris?"

Delyan turned back for the next box, responding over his shoulder, "KENZO shoot... casting for fashion week. Paris fashion week," he clarified.

Charlie followed him. "How about coffee...after work?"

He shook his head. "Coffee's no good for me in the evening." He picked up another large box of books. There was a grace and ease in his movements as he scaled the stairs that she found magnetic. She realized she hadn't stopped thinking about him since they met.

He glanced at her as they walked back to her room, and she blushed.

"I think I might come to the presentation," he said.

"Ha ha!" she laughed, looking down.

"No, seriously," he grinned. "I heard the villa is worth seeing."

"You can't come. It's a closed event."

"Mmm... we'll see." He placed the box on top of the one he'd dropped off earlier.

"Delyan... it's work." She wanted to go out with him, but the thought of him watching her work was daunting.

Charlie placed her box on the bed and opened it. It was full of beauty products, cosmetics, perfumes, and hair straighteners. Some new, most old. There were perfume bottles she'd been carrying for years, long since empty.

"Don't worry," he said, glancing in the box. "I won't disturb you. I'll be the mysterious stranger wandering the grounds."

"You can't!" She began to unpack self-consciously, aware he was hovering and perhaps expecting her to do something with all the boxes.

"Why not?" he said, turning for the door. "I've crashed plenty of presentations. I like those little hors d'oeuvres. I might even hand out my card."

She shook her head, laughing. He was joking. She hoped. "You don't have a card!"

He paused at the doorway, smiling. "It's not lingerie, is it? Your presentation."

"No, it's not."

"Oh. Thank goodness!" His dark eyes glistened. "Those are the worst!"

"You're very funny. You're not coming!"

"We'll see." He placed a hand on the door frame and turned back to look at her. She wondered if he was going to leave now or pursue the question of taking her out. Perhaps it had all been a tease.

His voice dropped almost to a whisper, "I'll think of something?"

Instantly, she felt relief. They were going out.

"Low key," she said.

"I get it. I don't party."

"You sure?" she grinned.

"One hundred percent."

"I trust you."

"I'll see you there, then?" he grinned back. "I'll be the one hitting up Marc Jacobs for fashion tips."

"You are not coming in to the presentation!"

"You've said that..."

"I'll see you after," she smiled and, because she couldn't help herself, asked, "Is this a date?"

"It's a...non-date..." he responded.

Charlie noticed how, when he stood straight, his head nearly grazed the top of the doorframe. Perfect, she thought. He's perfect.

"Ciao," she said.

"Ciao. Ci vediamo presto."

After Delyan left the room, Charlie sat cross-legged on her bed and called her mum. As always, they discussed her outfit for the day. She'd planned to wear jeans and her Balmain olive-green double-breasted blazer.

"Jeans?" her mother sighed; exasperation clear in her voice. "I should not have to remind you how important street style is. We are in fashion week! Push. Push. Push those boundaries."

Charlie rolled her eyes; grateful her mum couldn't see her. She had to admit though, her mother was right. Jeans would look good on her, but no one's going to bother photographing a woman with so little imagination. She rummaged through her closet and took out a pair of black shorts. Laying them on the bed beside a black tank top, she overlaid her blazer, and then as if it were an afterthought, she scurried through one of her boxes and scooped up a lavender-colored Jimmy Choo micro handbag.

"I'm going to send a picture," she said, her tone clipped.

Hanging up on her mum, she stood back from the bed and snapped a couple of pictures of the clothes. Carefully, she chose the image with the best lighting and cropped out some of the mess in the room. At lightning speed, she sent the image to her mother and called her again.

"See?" her mum said, a hint of smugness in her voice. "So much better. You have fantastic taste, my girl, when you choose to put it to use."

Charlie was impatient to get going. "I'm running late mamma," she said, even though she had at least two hours before her gig.

"Nonsense," her mother said sharply. "You forget. I know your schedule."

"I have a life, mother," Charlie snapped back, her frustration bubbling over.

"Oh good. So, I take care of your responsibilities and you go off and enjoy your life," her mother retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Okay, I have a minute," Charlie conceded, feeling cornered. "One minute. What else did you want to talk about?"

"Your hair, of course. Have you found a stylist yet? It's extremely important we use only the best."

"No, Ma. I have not. And if you're going to criticize, I'm going to hang up."

"It's okay. I must go anyway," her mum said, her tone icy. "I too, have a life. Though you'd never think it, the way my children behave."

"Bye, Ma. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Tonight?"

"No, tomorrow."

It had always been this way for Charlie. She often wondered if her style would be different without her mum's constant critiques. They'd argued over her decision to cut her hair, and she worried she was doing it just to defy her mother. It was hard to know her own mind on these things, given their relationship.

She began to undress and caught a glimpse of her figure in the mirror. Thinking she saw a bit of cellulite, she moved to the side, stretching her leg out for a double take. She laughed, realizing it was just the lighting. Still, she'd need to hit the gym later. Then she remembered she might have a date. She lay down on the bed, recalling Delyan's smile and the ease with which he'd handled her boxes. He worked out. She was sure of it. She laughed to herself, thinking how much more fun it would be working off her imaginary cellulite with Delyan. Her mind veered off into the realm of fantasy.