Tomboys Can Be Models Too | Maria

In the shadow of high school gymnasiums and whispered taunts, Maria Bianchi was always the outsider—the too-tall tomboy with scraped knees, sharper elbows, and a heart that beat just a little too fast for the girl everyone mistook for a boy. But when curves bloomed and confidence stirred, the girl they mocked grew into the woman they couldn't stop watching. One lucky selfie at Blackwell University's quad fountain changed everything. A chance encounter with a Vogue photographer turned into the beginning of a meteoric rise. And just like that, the girl who once wore bruises like armor now strutted in heels across runways, unapologetically sexy, stunning, and still just as strong. But dreams come wrapped in old ghosts. When Maria is suddenly called to Paris Fashion Week, she finds herself face-to-face with the one boy who made her ache the hardest—the high school crush who once teased her ruthlessly and unknowingly fueled her deepest fantasies. Only now, he's a male model in the same show... and just as hot as she remembered.

Tomboys Can Be Models Too | Maria

In the shadow of high school gymnasiums and whispered taunts, Maria Bianchi was always the outsider—the too-tall tomboy with scraped knees, sharper elbows, and a heart that beat just a little too fast for the girl everyone mistook for a boy. But when curves bloomed and confidence stirred, the girl they mocked grew into the woman they couldn't stop watching. One lucky selfie at Blackwell University's quad fountain changed everything. A chance encounter with a Vogue photographer turned into the beginning of a meteoric rise. And just like that, the girl who once wore bruises like armor now strutted in heels across runways, unapologetically sexy, stunning, and still just as strong. But dreams come wrapped in old ghosts. When Maria is suddenly called to Paris Fashion Week, she finds herself face-to-face with the one boy who made her ache the hardest—the high school crush who once teased her ruthlessly and unknowingly fueled her deepest fantasies. Only now, he's a male model in the same show... and just as hot as she remembered.

Maria had just finished a light stretch after her evening workout, her body still glowing from the light sheen of sweat and the dim warmth of her dorm. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand—her manager's contact flashing across the screen. She snatched it up, expecting some kind of schedule adjustment or maybe a brand deal proposal. But instead, the message made her heart skip a beat.

"Paris Fashion Week. You. Tomorrow. Plane Tickets emailed to you. Get moving, gurlll!"

"No fuckin’ way..." Maria muttered, eyes wide, pulse racing as adrenaline took over. She gasped, then laughed—an excited, breathless kind of laugh that bubbled up from deep in her chest. She’d imagined this moment for years. The Paris runways. The lights. The cameras. And now it was real.

She burst into motion, grabbing her duffel from under the bed, yanking open drawers, tossing in essentials with an almost manic energy. Her modeling heels, check. Her backup wardrobe, check. Passport? Double check. She pulled on a hoodie over her sports bra, tossed on some ripped jeans, and grabbed her oversized sunglasses as she booked an Uber to the airport. The city blurred past her as she rode toward her dream.

On the flight to Paris, Maria tried to sleep. She even closed her eyes, headphones in, hoodie pulled low—but it didn’t help. Her legs wouldn’t stop bouncing. Her fingers kept opening and closing around her phone. She kept picturing the lights, the runway, the thrill of the crowd. Her heart wouldn't slow down.

Hours later, the hotel lobby in Paris smelled like cologne, fresh linen, and a thousand dreams coming true. Maria rolled in her suitcase, still trying to wrap her head around the moment—when she bumped into a solid chest. Her eyes widened as she looked up.

"No. Freakin’. Way."

It was him. Older now. Sharper jawline, broader shoulders, still that smug, cocky energy that used to make her clench her thighs back in high school—but now ten times worse. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away before her eyes betrayed how hard she was staring.

"Dio mio..." she whispered under her breath, recovering with a smirk. "Guess the universe ain't done throwin' us together, huh?"

The next morning came fast. Maria stood backstage with Aria and Bella, all three buzzing with caffeine and nerves. Makeup artists buzzed around them, stylists adjusting hems and flaring jackets. But Maria? She couldn’t keep her damn eyes off him. He was just across the way, decked out in a custom Louis Vuitton suit that fit him like sin. Every time he adjusted his cuffs or flexed his fingers, she had to swallow.

"Bella, he's gonna make me drown in my panties if he keeps lookin' like that..." she muttered, biting her lip, eyes locked on him.

Then their cue was called. Time to walk.

Maria stepped forward, her body fluid like honey, her legs long and sure. As she passed him, she leaned in close, just enough for only him to hear.

"You have no idea how fucking wet you’ve got me right now, bello... and we haven’t even started the show yet."

She gave him a wicked smirk as she walked past and took her place under the lights, leaving just enough space for him to follow.

"So..." she purred softly without turning around, "you gonna keep teasing me from a distance, or you gonna do something about it?"