Leah Cabrera, 23
"pretty eyed, pirate smile, and now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my head"
Likes: coffee, New York City, rainy weather, fashion, vintage cars, her apartment, photo collages, breakfast, quality time with friends, music, old b/w movies, high heels
Dislikes: ueber-hyper people, bad hygiene, pretending, greasy food, ignorance, low standards, the color orange, bad manicures, lying politicians, cakey make up
Style: minimalistic, sophisticated with edgy statement pieces
Job: Fashion Editor At ELLE
Bio: Leah isn’t one to be messed with. Growing up on the wrong side of the tracks in that everything-but-loveydovey atmosphere shaped her into becoming the person she is now. Something about the way she moves, the way people treat her will show that she’s not just some gorgeous girl with fashionable clothes and money. There’s a lot more to her than meets the eye, a lot more than what she allows the world in.
From early on she’s learned that in this world you have no one to depend on but yourself. She’s a one-woman-army. She’s got herself and that’s all she needs. Strength, intelligence and determination make her such a valuable co-worker, but it’s her sarcasm and individualism that make her stand out. She does her own thing, not taking in consideration what people will think of her or her actions.
But she’s also a human, a very complex, intriguing one. That desire to be perfect? Fear of imperfections. Of not being enough. Does that tough as nails woman need support and someone to lean on? Definitely. Would she ever admit it? Over her dead body.
Instead of going through the hussle and fussle of letting people in and being hurt she pushes everyone away, relying solemnly on herself. But whoever manages to break that shell will be surprised. Having her on your side is a blessing. Having her against you? Hell will seem inviting. She’s worked her way up and it wasn’t easy. She has no intention of letting anything or anyone get in her way. Whatever it takes, she’ll fight. She knows what she wants, she has what it takes and that’s all that matters. For now.
Dating Status: Single
Model: Rosie Huntington Whiteley
Taken by: @savethemadness
“What the f*ck happened to us?”
I looked up from the Avocado I was cutting in small pieces, a startled expression on my face. “Bri, what do you mean? What’s wrong?”
She shrugged, continuing to stir the boiling noodles. “Oh, I don’t know. Don’t you find it a little bit odd that it’s a Friday night and we are spending the night at your place, cooking and watching old Audrey Hepburn movies?”
She let go of the noodles and leaned against the counter so that we were facing each other.
“And you know what’s the worst thing?”
“That I was actually looking forward to this!”
Okay, now I was absolutely lost. “That’s a good thing, right?”
“Nooohohoo! It’s not! Doesn’t it worry you?”
“At this very moment, YOU are worrying me.”
“You can’t be happy about this! We’re in our early twenties, we’re both gorgeous and it’s our weekend! And we choose to spend it cooking and watching movies? How lame are we? What will we be doing when we are, say … over thirty?” Her voice had gotten louder and higher pitched, with a shocked facial expression to match her crisis.
I shrugged, “I don’t know? I mean, we both work. All.week.long. It’s perfectly understandable that we just want to stay home and relax, after such a stressful week.”
“Noo! We’re not supposed to be like this. We’re supposed to be young, and sexy and … and on fire. We’re supposed to be having fun, hanging out with gorgeous guys and letting them buy us drinks. Have we become such workaholics that we can’t even have fun?”
“Oh, come on. Don’t be such a drama queen. We’re not lame, and we’re not workaholics. We’re just … exhausted. We’ll make up for it next weekend.”
“It’s not about this week, or the next one, or the one in seven months. It’s about the whole situation, about our whole life. It’s not how I wanted it to be.”
I pushed myself up so I was sitting on the counter now. “Are you having a midlife crisis at the age of 23?”
“How can you take this so easily? Aren’t you worried in any kind of way?”
“No, no I’m not. And I don’t think you should be, either. You said it yourself. We’re young and gorgeous and free. We still have so much time ahead of us, we don’t have to waste it worrying about our thirty-year-old-selves.”
“So, you want to tell me you’re happy?”
“Absolutely, completely, utterly happy?”
“You find it perfectly normal that we both chose cooking and movies over dressing up, going to a party, meeting some guy with a brasilian accent and doing something crazy?”
I bit down on my lip to keep myself from smiling, but I couldn’t. “Bri … are you simply just, oh, I don’t know … horny?”
She stared at me, caught off guard, before the corner of her lips started twitching and she started laughing. I smirked, silently watching her laugh and laugh and laugh, until she started to calm down.
“Oh my … how dare you?”, she finally pressed out, her voice still shaking.
I grinned, “Am I right?”
She bit down on her lip, slightly looking down, looking both guilty and mischievous at the same time. “You so are”, she finally replied.
“Good. I was worried it was something serious.”
She shrugged, turning back around to look at the noodles again. “Isn’t that something serious?”
“It’s not the end of the world. You’ve been on a dry spell for what, three months?”
“Five”, she corrected quickly.
“Whatever. It’ll be over soon.”
“How am I supposed to meet The One in your kitchen?”
“Weeell … I do admit that might be a little bit hard, but why don’t you try to balance it out? Let’s relax today, just the two of us, no men, and tomorrow we can go out and shake up this little town?”
“Your attitude is killing me, but yes. Only if I can borrow that new Hervé Léger dress?”
I smiled, glad we had gotten through that conversation. I was hungry and I had been looking forward to this meal ever since I’d found the recipe a long time ago. “Deal.”
“If you throw in those Louboutins …”, she trailed off.
“Don’t push it.”
“Alright. Let’s talk about you.”
Before I could even control it, I could feel my heart racing off. There it was again, that pain in my chest. I wasn’t just tired of this discussion, I didn’t even want to get into that territory. I tried to fight it, but his image immediately popped up in my head. Not that it ever left, but I could see him right in front of me. Those intense eyes. That feeling I got when his hair brushed against my face when we made out. That rollercoaster of feelings he put me on. The way I’d loved him.
I flinched, looking up at her again. “Mh?”
“Are you okay?”
I stared at her, trying to recollect myself. I quickly smiled, nodding. “Of course. Sorry.”
“What were you thinking about?”, she asked, walking over to where I had been cutting the avocados. She took a piece in her mouth, still looking at me for an answer.
“Oh, just what I’ll be wearing tomorrow. Any clue?”
She smiled, quickly forgetting about my little trip. “Yeeees! So we ARE going out tomorrow?”
“Of course! I promised, right?”
Her smile grew even wider, “Let’s go pick out an outfit for you!”, she said, taking me by the hand and pulling me behind her to the room where I kept all my clothes.
“We could go to the hairdresser tomorrow morning? And our nails! Let’s do it all tomorrow! I wanna go all the way!”
“Whatever you want, babe.” I was just happy my mind could get a break from Noah for a while.