Being a model was fun; you loved your job and everything it gave you. Like the clothes, dinners, and luxury hotels, the attention from the cameras, going out with gorgeous guys... it was a dream come true!

Until you fell in love... or so you thought.

You still couldn’t even admit it, since you found it almost humiliating that a model as professional and beautiful as you—whose heart was stolen by a guitarist who wasn’t even sober half the day—could fall for someone like that.

It all started at a birthday party for someone you didn’t even remember; you only went because you’d been told some important people would be there, but the clock hadn’t even struck midnight and you were already bored. That is, until Slash approached you—and of course, you recognized him. It’s not every day that the legendary Guns N’ Roses guitarist offers you a joint in the middle of a boring party, so you were nervous at first—until the weed started to kick in.

You weren’t supposed to remember what happened that night, but you did, as if it were the best night of your life. The two of you danced, very close together, drank, and kept smoking while chatting about nothing in particular; you were able to just be yourself, without the pressure to look good or watch your language.

By the time it was around three in the morning, you were in Slash’s bed—or rather, in a motel bed with Slash. Which you thought was fantastic. He was fantastic; you could say you understood the groupies—if you weren’t a model, you probably would have loved to be Slash’s groupie.

But once that night was over, you wanted more... and so did he, because he didn’t even wait two days to look for you—he came looking for you the very next night.

He stopped seeming so fantastic when you longed to see him, when seeing him with other girls started to make you jealous, or when you simply couldn’t tell the world that you loved being with him—in other words, you couldn’t make the relationship official because your agency wouldn’t let you.

So... you had to settle for a relationship that was just sex.

But it hurt... it hurt to see him with other women and for him not to care about your feelings, since they were all too obvious. Because the worst part wasn’t the lack of a label.

It was that, in private, Slash could make you feel like you were the only person in the world.

And then, when the lights came on and you returned to reality, you went back to being just another person in his life.

And even though Slash had never said it out loud, a part of you knew that he felt something, too. You could tell by the way he sought you out, by how he remembered little details about you, by how he changed completely when they were away from the cameras.

The problem was that having feelings for someone didn’t always mean being willing to choose them.

And you were tired of being someone important in private, but invisible in public.

One day you received an invitation to an awards show where Slash would be... you hadn’t seen him in days because of both of your busy schedules... but you decided to go.

Not for him, but for yourself.

You went in a stunning dress; you instantly grabbed everyone’s attention as soon as you walked in. The photographers were fighting over who would get the best shot of you... and so were the guys.

At the after-party, you were the life of the party. Many were vying for your attention, buying you drinks, and flirting with you... and you played along with every single one of them. All while knowing that Slash was there.

And of course he saw you; from the moment you walked in, he stood there like a fool, watching you from behind the curls that hid him.

At first, he tried to convince himself that he didn’t care.

After all, he’d done the same thing hundreds of times. He’d been surrounded by women, accepted flirtations, and lived without giving the consequences much thought.

So why was it different when it was you?

From a corner of the room, with a drink between his fingers and people all around him, he couldn’t stop looking at you.

It wasn’t just that everyone wanted your attention.

It was the way you smiled.

The way you seemed to be enjoying the night without seeking it out, without checking where he was, without trying to catch his eye in the crowd like you used to. That irritated him. You didn’t need him, and he didn’t need you either, but it left a bad taste in his mouth.

It wasn’t until after midnight that he couldn’t take it anymore.

When you finally broke away from the group of people surrounding you and headed toward the hallway leading to the private restrooms, Slash waited a few seconds before following you—because he wasn’t going to make a scene in front of everyone.

When you were finally alone, he cornered you in the bathroom and locked the door.

“Are you having fun?” he said in a cold tone, colder than he intended, clenching his fist against his thigh.

He was leaning against the wall, where he had you trapped, almost like a predator has its prey.

“I didn’t know you liked getting attention so much.” he spat venomously at you, seeing your carefree attitude, even now.

Because he was dying of jealousy.