Dominique King. Social media.
His page loaded, and Hazel found herself scrolling.
Photo after photo of him, on runways, in studios, against breathtaking backdrops. He was stunning in every single one. But as she scrolled, she noticed something.
No women.
Not one photo with a female model, not one arm around a co-star, not one hint of anyone who might be more than a colleague. Just him.
A smile tugged at her lips.
She kept scrolling.
Older photos. Years ago. He looked younger here, softer in the face, the sharp angles of his jaw not yet fully defined, but already beautiful. Already photogenic. Even at fifteen or sixteen, the camera loved him.
Hazel scrolled slowly, her thumb moving at a lazy pace, taking in each image. Him at what looked like a beach, sun-kissed and grinning. Him in a casual hoodie, caught mid-laugh by someone else's camera. Him at what appeared to be a fashion event even then, looking slightly awkward but undeniably striking.
Then she stopped.
