I Didn't Do It 1. Combat Boots

**Before you read:**

**First, I know what you're thinking. You're shaking your head and frowning at me, shunning me and pointing at me. I'll just say it.**

**I'm an idiot. Like, who leaves two multichap fanfictions to do this insignificant idea? Me, as you can tell. (By the way, go check them out. You won't regret it.)**

**But also, _IDDI Season 2._ Can you believe it? The dorks go on.**

**And so should this story. I don't own IDDI.**

* * *

The sunlight streamed in through the tall window panes that bordered Jasmine's moderately spacious office. For the past few days, her work was busy, since fall was an important time for fashion and design. Frantic clothes outlet owners called for model shots wearing their clothes, and it had gotten to the point where she'd been cramped in the office for _hours_, meeting models and assigning them to photo shoots. For her, it was _doubly_ busy since she was in charge of the model's outfits, and also was designing for a part time job that she did for extra money. Right now, though, neither jobs were fun.

Jasmine leaned back on her new black executive chair, breathing in the smell of leather. She closed her eyes. She wanted some coffee, but the fact that she had nothing to do was already enough for her. Peace at last.

Then, to her disappointment, the intercom crackled, "Logan Watson, to office two-two-three, in five minutes. Logan Watson, office two-two-three. Thank you."

_Crap day_, Jasmine thought grumpily, leaning even further back onto the poor chair. She threw an eraser across the room, with hit the platform that confirmed that she, in fact, was room two-two-three. _Crap week, crap month, crap year._

As if on cue, her boss barreled into the room. He was a tall, distinguished man who always meant business - and to be honest, Jasmine's (normally) bright attitude clashed a lot with her boss's cynical outlook. Judging from the look on his face, he meant a shitload of business.

"Jasmine, this model is important. Apparently he's pretty famous in the modeling world, and got laid off of his old company. You need to make sure we have a grip on him. His working at this modeling agency will raise our success bar. Right now we have some pretty tight competition with the other companies - this guy could be our breakthrough."

"I got it, I got it." Jasmine propped her combat boots up onto her new, sleek wooden table, while the boss watched with gritted teeth. His reaction only urged on her growing irritation. "Just like _every other fricken model today_."

He narrowed his eyes. "Get the job done. Find a better attitude while you're at it."

Jasmine bit back a retort while he walked away, sitting up indignantly as she swallowed down the colorful language that was at the tip of her tongue. She knew that the constant work was driving both of them, if not everyone in the whole building, out of their mind. The new model suddenly walked in without warning, and stared at her retreating boss in amazement, no doubt hearing every single word they'd just uttered in spite about each other.

"Nice guy, huh?" he remarked, standing in the doorway. He looked at her boots, which were still resting proudly on her desk.

"Yeah," sighed Jasmine, too worn down and exasperated to explain about her "fantastic" day. "Why don't you come sit down."

Now that her annoyance edged away, she noticed that the model was actually _really_ good-looking. She'd seen a lot of hot models, but _dang_. His hair was a dark-blond ruffled mess, and his arms were pretty freaking noteworthy, if she did say so herself. He sat into the chair in front of her desk, and Jasmine slid her legs off the table.

She studied him carefully. "Logan, is it?"

"Watson," he said. He seemed completely relaxed.

After an awkward moment, Jasmine had grabbed a sheet of paper from her desk's shelf and scribbled down his name. _Logan Watson_. "Alright. Well, once you get started, I can get you hooked up with Levi's or Calvin Klein, they're pretty popular. Abercrombie is filled up, as usual, but when I find a space - hey, are you cool with not wearing a shirt at a shoot?"

The model, Logan, sent her a sideways smile, one that was almost mixed with mischief. "I think I can handle that."

"Great." Jasmine tried to send thoughts of him without a shirt out of her mind. He was here for a professional reason, she reminded herself. Back to business. "Headshots please? Resumé too, if you don't mind."

He handed her a cream envelope, which she opened warily. Inside were headshots and a crisp resumé, paperclipped with some magazine pictures of him. She scanned them over, trying not to stare at them too long. It turned out Logan had already modeled before, and one of his pictures was in one of the issues on her magazine shelf. She hoped he didn't notice.

"It's fine," she said, handing him back the papers. "Just give these to the secretary at the front desk. You have a pretty good chance of getting in, judging from all of these gigs."

He grinned. "I get around. I get the results next month, right?"

"Yeah," Jasmine said. She stood up and smoothed down her black skater skirt, making an attempt to look as dignified as possible. "I'll see you then."

"See you." He ran a hand through his hair, raised his eyebrows at her, which Jasmine subconsciously found appealing.

Then he left. Jasmine almost wished that she'd invited him to get coffee next week, or at least asked for his number. She felt a grudging attraction to that boy, enjoyed his laid back attitude and easy-going smirk. After all, she did have a history of flings, more than probably all of her friend's ex-boyfriends combined.

_This is just business_, she scolded herself, frowning. _This is what you pay for having your dream job. Plus…_

She couldn't face it yet. The last time she had a _real_ boyfriend…

* * *

"Would you like some coffee?" The secretary asked in her sugary-sweet voice, for the third time since Lindy had gotten there. "It's an awfully long wait, if you ask me."

"I'm fine, thanks," Lindy replied, glancing at the shiny espresso maker behind her, only wishing to get out of the the building. It made her uncomfortable, to be honest, to think that star models walking in the airplane-fragrant lobby and had coffee from that shiny coffee maker, handed to them by the flawless hand of the secretary. It also irked her a little that her brother was a model, whose picture was found on almost every single store that she shopped at. _Ugh_.

After another long fifteen-minute wait, Logan finally emerged from the glass elevator, only glancing for a moment at the large images of now-famous models. The ends of his mouth were turned up slightly.

"Hey, Linds," he said, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"How was it?"

"It was fine," said Logan. He seemed to be distracted by a thought. "The manager who hooked me up was pretty cool."

"Nice," Lindy said, wondering what actually happened up there.

"The manager's a designer, did you know? I read it on this flyer tacked up on her wall."

"Cool. Alright, we gotta get moving, Model Boy." She glanced at her watch. She had a math competition to attend, and a date later. Her chest bubbled up with excitement, remembering the special dress she'd bought for the occasion, and she started for the door with a smile on her face. She'd just walked through -

_Oof_. Well, she hadn't gone through the doorway yet, but she'd bumped into a guy on her way out. He was tall, brown-haired, and incredibly flustered. He'd dropped his things - boxes and some keys - on the ground by accident. He was in the middle of picking things up when Lindy got to her senses.

"_Ohmygosh_ I am _so_ sorry for knocking your things over and I didn't mean to - oh my god I'm sorry," she stammered, bending over to pick the things up with him.

"It's fine, really," the boy said, shrugging. He let out a short, awkward laugh. "It happens to the best of us - oh no, it's fine, I got this."

After a moment, the possessions were back in his hands, and he smiled tentatively at them. "Thanks for helping me pick it up."

"It's no problem," assured Lindy, "I was the one who knocked it down anyways."

When he left, Lindy turned to Logan, whom she noticed was stifling laughter. She made a face at him, cheeks heating up from embarrassment.

"Smooth, Lindy," he choked out in obvious delight, "smooth."

"Shut _up_."

Looking down at the ground, she noticed he had left something behind. It was an iPhone 5s, in nearly perfect condition, no phone case around it or anything. She frowned and picked it up. "He left something here."

"Yeah, no kidding," Logan muttered, taking it from her and examining it. He looked at the direction he left, but there was no sign of him. "Wow, losing an iPhone. That sucks."

"How are we going to get it back to him?" Lindy was freaking out. She didn't usually get a guy's number, but now she had a stranger's phone - a little more than what she wanted, to be honest. "We barely know this guy. Who am I kidding, we don't know this guy at all!"

Logan thought for a moment, then: "Hey! I could see if the manager - you know, the designing one - knows."

Lindy stared at him, dumbfounded. "Hey, that's the smartest thing you've said all week."

"You underestimate me, sister."

They raced to the secretary's desk, who seemed to enjoy herself with watching the whole fiasco unfold.

"Do you know the number of the manager whose name is Jasmine?" Logan asked.

The secretary calmly pulled out the Ditka Modeling Agency phonebook. "Well, let's see here, who are you - ?"

They had taken the phonebook to the side and were tearing through it. Logan's phone was ready in his hand. "Jasmine Alger, Jasmine Ang…" Lindy muttered under her breath.

She had a feeling she was going to be late for her math competition.


	2. Office Rants

**This whole winter break I did homework. Wait, that didn't sound right (but it is).**

**Sorry for the slow updates in the future. Reviews encourage me, so you know what to do ;)**

**(BTW I have the tinest smidget of knowledge on what goes on at a modeling agency so bear with me pleeease.)**

**I don't own anything except for my OCS and concept. :)**

* * *

Logan was starting to get antsy.

Yeah, he knew it would take a while to find a manager with only a phone book. He knew it would be a slim chance they'd find her name at all. There was an even slimmer chance that this one out of many knew a guy with a missing phone. He also knew it was kind of stupid to just be dialing away at every number, especially if it was going to take forty-five minutes.

But there was something driving him on that he didn't understand. Normally he would just put off searching until later, when he was bored. Now he was actually making an effort to find that one number in a sea of names, and giving himself reasonably valid reasons why. For one thing, a guy had last his phone. That was a decent reason, though normally Logan would still procrastinate trying to find the owner. The second reason, well, Logan actually did kind of like the manager he met today - Jasmine, that is.

Logan tried to wrap his mind around it. There was something about her that he was attracted to; not only the fact that she was incredibly better-looking than his other designers - crazy dyed hair and belly piercings and whatnot - but it was some kind of quality about her that made him stare. Especially the way she'd walked around in those black leather combat boots. That was definitely attractive.

Lindy snapped him from his thoughts when she slammed down the heavy book and let out a loud sigh. "Dude, we're gonna have to finish this at home."

"_Seriously_?" he said, frantically leaning back over the book, trying to find the page again. "We did _not_ just spend fifty minutes here for nothing, all right? I'm finding her. That's it."

Lindy sent him a weird look. "What is it with you and this manager? Do you like her or something?"

He didn't look in her eyes. She was a little _too_ good at knowing exactly what he was thinking. If she knew, well, he wouldn't be able to live it down. Plus, she would have the upperhand, and shut him down on looking through this whole book. That's what Logan would do, anyways.

"I do not," Logan declared matter-of-factly. "Besides, I barely know her."

"Fine, okay," Lindy amended, putting her hands in the air, "but if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were crushing."

Logan snorted - or, at least, attempted to. "Pfft. Let's get back to work."

Lindy glanced at a doorway marked _Employee Break Room_. "That damned secretary," she swore. "She must've known the guy - or the manager. Why didn't we ask her?"

"That means we only have one option left," he pointed out, trying to act casual about calling the mysterious manager.

Lindy sighed again and they flipped back to the page. "Fine. Jasmine Haylin's number is…"

* * *

Delia was going to strangle someone.

She stormed the lobby, without bothering to check in - hell, without bothering to even alert the lobby secretary that she was even there, jabbing the elevator button, muttering curses under her breath. It was around four in the afternoon, and many employees were leaving, all of them cowering from Delia's rage. Getting over their initial shock, they started staring at Delia in annoyance or amusement. Regardless, Delia threw them her most withering glare, and they shrunk back.

"Ma'am?" the secretary squeaked, forcing a calm smile. "Would you mind checking in? Do you have an appointment?"

The elevator door dinged. The doors slid open, and Delia walked in, completely ignoring her.

She tried again. "Ma'am. I need you to check in - !"

The doors closed.

Delia calmed her breathing. _The people in this business are idiots._ She rolled her eyes in contempt.

She tapped her foot impatiently as the elevator ascended to the second floor from the basement level. The elevator was awfully slow.

_These dumbasses should get a new elevator,_ she quipped in her mind, completely and utterly irritated from the day's events.

When she finally arrived at the second story, she huffed a sigh of exasperation. Stomping into office two-two-three, she loudly exclaimed, "I am _done_ with people and this bullshit."

"Nice to see you too, Deels," the brunette snarked wearily from the other side of the room, finishing up papers.

"I don't need your fricken sass today," Delia ranted. "Today's the day where I get my pay, right? Well Joy Windenburg - you know, that chick with the really bitchy attitude? My boss gives her a raise_. _A freaking _raise_! And guess what she did this month. She did one article on Cosmopolitan. And guess what section. The freaking _sex_ _section_. And what did she do the entire month?"

"What," Jasmine asked flatly.

"You fricken know what," Delia fumed. "She just procrastinated the entire. Fricken. Time. She pores over the pictures of naked men and says she's 'doing work'. And guess what I'm doing?"

Jasmine said nothing, just looked up at her. By now, Delia was gripping the ends of Jasmine's desk.

"I'm over here doing, like, five articles for the TV Guide, a four-page _monster_ of a thing for National Geographic, and like, a Victoria's Secret magazine! And my boss just, I don't know, _saunters_ up to us and says" - here she does her practiced-and-perfect imitation of her boss - "'Joy, you're becoming quite the graphic designer. I've decided to give you a hundred-dollar raise.' Like, _what?!_ I have the most fricken _lousy _boss ever."

Here Jasmine finally showed some emotion, sighing in agreement, "Tell me about it. Mine gave me two assignments to finish by next week, along with all these meetings where I get to 'coordinate shoots'. I don't even do that - management does!" She gestured wildly at the papers on her desk. "And now I have to sort out these papers for _management _to do my supposed job."

They sat in a comfortable silence together, relieved from the pressure.

"I'm taking you out for dinner, right?" Jasmine asked after a while.

"Yeah," Delia said. "First, why don't I help you clean up."

Together, they stacked piles of papers and put it in a folder. Delia caught Jasmine staring at one particular file for too long, and leaned over to see what it was.

It was a resumé. _Logan Watson,_ it said. Jasmine caught Delia watching her and blushed.

"What was that?" Delia asked her, putting some more papers in the folder.

"Just a resumé," Jasmine said. Her cheeks were tinged pink.

"_Please_," Delia drawled, snatching the papers from her. She flipped through the paper-clipped stack. Inside were just pictures of a blonde male, with windblown hair and blue eyes. She looked up at Jasmine again and wiggled her eyebrows.

"You got a new hunk of man candy?" Delia teased.

"Shut up!" Jasmine said. Yep, Delia could see that blush from a mile away. "He just came in today for a meeting. I'm not open to dating yet, anyways."

"Well, your hormones declare otherwise," Delia smirked, giving her a knowing look. "Plus, Derek was just a douche. This guy could be your answer."

"I'm just not looking for a rebound, okay?"

"Fine," Delia said. After a moment of silence, she asked, "Did you at least get his number?"

"Stop it," Jasmine grinned, slapping her arm. Sweeping up the last of the forms, she stood up, stretching. "Ready to go, Deels?"

"Ready as ever," she replied.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, and Logan still had not found the mystery girl.

"We're leaving _now_," Lindy announced, frowning. "I have a math competition in like, thirty minutes."

"Oh, you mean the nerd herd meetups?" Logan scoffed. "You went to one a week ago. Does it matter if you miss it this one time?"

"First of all, we aren't nerds," Lindy corrected. "Second, yes. We're going to regionals. My team needs me."

"What your team really needs is a life."

"You just _wish _you were pulling A's in your college classes," Lindy said. "What classes do you do anyways? How to Strut on a Runway?"

"Ha ha," he said, flipping to a new page. "I'm just going to do one more number."

"Hurry _up_," she groaned.

_Jasmine Kang_. He prayed to his lucky stars that this was the one, and dialed the mobile phone number. After a long moment of waiting, a feminine voice was heard. "_Hello_?"

"Hi. I'm Logan Watson, do you remember meeting with me about… an hour ago?"

There was a pause. Logan vaguely heard a "_go get 'em tiger"_ in the background.

"_Um… yes._"

Logan just about jumped for joy, he was so happy. "That's great. Uh, do you happen to know a guy? Missing a phone?"

"_No? I'll let you know if I do though."_ A pause. "_Is this your cell phone number?_"

"Yeah."

"_Cool. I'll… uh… keep my eyes open."_

"Thanks. See you in a month."

When he hung up, Lindy looked at him expectantly. "Did you find her?"

"Yeah," he felt really happy for some reason, "but she didn't know the guy."

"So your ideas never really work then," Lindy said. "Let's go."

As they started for the door, Logan's cell phone rang. Annoyed, Lindy groaned, "What is it this time?"

The screen said, Gwen (heart emoji) (kissy emoji).

Then it hit him. He had a date with Gwen, his girlfriend! She must've been really upset that he stood her up, especially since this wasn't the first time that this happened. Logan tried to think about what to say. _You completely slipped my mind_ would never work in a million years; _I forgot_ was a lame remark. Logan was running out of excuses to give.

"Hello? Who's calling?" Lindy snapped,

"Uh, it's my girlfriend."

"You have a girlfriend? When did this happen?"

"I met her at one of your math competitions. She was at the nearby Starbucks."

Lindy shrugged. "You answer the call. I'll be in the car."

As soon as he answered it, he could hear her voice. "What the hell, Logan?"

"I'm sorry, Gwen, I lost track of time. I was at the agency, and a guy lost his phone, and we were searching for him."

"You would rather search for a stranger than be with your girlfriend?" The hard edge of her voice took on a disbelieving tone. "Why would you stand me up like this? For the third time?"

Damn, she was _angry_. Logan tried switching tactics.

"Listen to me, please? I'll go straight to your house and we can sort this out. Maybe watch a movie!"

"Don't bother." Her normally gentle sound was replaced by a cold tonality. "Me for a - a _guy_, even. That was low."

She hung up, and all Logan could hear was a light beeping and his heart thudding in his chest.


End file.

I Didn't Do It, Humor, Romance