Kayla Rae Reid

Kayla Rae Reid moves like someone who owns the light. Tall, slim, hair the color of sun-bleached sand, eyes the same blue you get when you look straight up on a cloudless day. Virginia-born, Palm Springs-raised, she laughs when she introduces herself: “Call me the sunshine chick.” She was trouble growing up—restless, persuasive, always the first to try whatever felt dangerous—but she never caught consequences. She knew how to keep the adults smiling. She never planned on staying small-town. The camera found her early; Monster Energy gigs led to a DM from Josh Ryan. He asked if she’d test for Playboy. Her first reaction was nerves—“Oh God, nude modeling”—until her best friend, Gemma Lee Farrell, told her how good it felt. Two weeks later Kayla Rae was Miss July 2015, the centerfold she’d prayed for since she learned her birthday month. “I chase the sun,” she says. “This is exactly where I’m meant to be.” Off-set she lives half-submerged—pool, ocean, any patch of water that throws light back at her. She has plans, big ones, and she’s not coy about using the title to open doors. “Playboy gave me the chance,” she says, eyes already on the next horizon. “I’m going to take it as far as it’ll go.”