The Boyfriend Bracket

by Kate Evangelista

  He suspected she wanted for it to be a surprise. But, like any good boyfriend, he had to match his tie to her dress. It was part of the code. The boyfriend code. So Will took matters into his own hands. Realizing he didn’t have Franklin’s number, he’d asked around until someone eventually texted it to him. Best friends knew all the info. Thank God he had given Will points for going the extra mile and cooperated with minimal hostility. Franklin was on Stella’s side, of course. As he should be. Will appreciated that someone had her back.

  Time couldn’t move fast enough for Will once he was done showering and getting dressed. The instant his clock said he could pick her up, he hurried to his truck as if a mob of bulls were after him. He had to keep reminding himself to follow traffic rules. Getting pulled over wasn’t in the plan. In fact, he had to make a mental note to chill. Seeing her without immediately taking her into his arms was going to be a challenge. Not in front of her mom. And Cam’s watchful eye would be on them.

  Will took a deep breath after he parked his truck at the curb. He eased the mix of a dozen white and red roses the clerk had lovingly wrapped for him from the passenger seat. It was all he could do not to run to the Pattersons’ front door. He stifled the urge by counting his steps. Ten in all from sidewalk to doorbell. He pushed the button. A pleasant tinkling rang out. The beautiful sound was the perfect opposite of Mrs. Patterson’s worried expression when she opened the door.

  “What’s wrong?” Will asked immediately.

  Stella’s mother waved him in. “I cannot find her.”

  “Who?”

  “I went to check on Stella, and she was not in her room” came the stream of words filled with distress. Her accent thickened. Her vowels lengthened and her consonants rounded. “She is not in the house.”

  Will placed the flowers on the side table by the door. His mind ran a mile a minute, going from one scenario to the next. He focused on breathing despite his heart beating in his ears. Nothing good came from panicking. It was clear his rising worry wasn’t what Mrs. Patterson needed. No more fuel for the fire.

  He steered her to the couch and helped her sit down. He took the cushion directly beside hers. She wrung her hands. The worry lines on her forehead deepened.

  “When was the last time you saw her?” he asked, recalling all the CSIs he had watched. He imagined himself as Gil Grissom, without a beard and the eccentricities. “Was she upset? Was she doing anything that would lead you to believe she would leave the house suddenly?”

  “I brought her a sandwich for lunch.” She wore a faraway look on her face. “Stella was busy putting curlers in her hair. Then I went downstairs. I did some laundry. Then mail arrived. I called Stella, saying something came for her.”

  A text from a couple days ago popped into Will’s mind. “Was it a college letter?”

  “I think so.”

  Stella had casually mentioned she would start hearing back from the fashion schools she had applied to. He pushed off the couch and sent a quick SOS text to Franklin to come to Stella’s house.

  “Where are you going?”

  He paused on the way to the kitchen. “Going to check the tree house. Everything is going to be okay.”

  From the back door, he pushed out into the yard and jogged toward the tree house. A series of sniffs and hiccups reached him as soon as he held on to the rung of the makeshift ladder. His heart jumped. Stella was in the tree house. She was okay. In the physical sense. At least, Will hoped so.

  He made quick work of the ladder like a nimble spider monkey in dress shoes. When he poked his head through the entrance cut out of the floor, he was greeted by Stella. His chest ached.

  She was sprawled in the farthest corner. The tie of her silk robe was undone. Inside she had on something equally silky and way too sexy. Totally not the right time or place to be thinking those kind of thoughts. He forced himself to focus.

  Some of the curlers in her hair had come lose, scattered at her feet. Tendrils of hair fell around her face. Black streaks painted her crumpled face. Her cheeks were flushed. Her lipstick was smudged. The back of her hand had a pink smear on it. In her other hand was a piece of paper. The culprit of her heartache. Will had never been so mad at a single letter before. But he pushed aside the emotion. Stella needed him as levelheaded as possible.

  He eased himself all the way into the tree house. With his bulk, he prayed they wouldn’t plummet to the ground. Two people made the space seem cramped, when once it used to fit all three of them comfortably.

  As if noticing him for the first time, Stella dropped the paper and covered her face with both hands. “Don’t look at me!” she shrieked. “I’m hideous right now.”

  Will scanned the letter, confirming what he had suspected. Then he sat beside Stella. He picked her up and settled her on his lap. She squeaked but didn’t move to get away. She buried her face into his chest. A new wave of tears rocked her body. Heart breaking, Will wrapped his arms around her.

  “Parsons sucks,” he mumbled into her hair as he rubbed circles down her back.

  “They are one of the best fashion schools in the country,” Stella defended. “Donna Karan is from there. So are Marc Jacobs and Anna Sui and Tom Ford and—” Her hiccups kept her from continuing.

  None of those names made any sense to Will. All he knew about fashion was the Gap, where Nana bought him shirts for his birthday. He was about to respond when Stella found her second wind.

  “If Parsons doesn’t want me…” A series of sniffs and shaking sobs followed her words until she managed to say, “The rest won’t want me either.”

  “That’s not true.”

  The statement was meant to be comforting. It had the opposite effect. Stella pushed away enough to glare at him.

  “How can you be so sure, huh?” she challenged.

  Normally, he would have asked how she could be so sure too. But Will’s self-preservation instincts were strong. Stella was hurt. She was like a cornered, wounded creature right now, and his chances of being bitten were astronomical. Keeping his expression neutral, Will shook his head.

  “See!” Stella poked his chest hard enough for him to wince. “You’re not sure.”

  “There has to be another way,” he offered.

  For a minute, a faraway look entered Stella’s face. Then she said, “There’s this fashion show. Franklin showed me the flyer.”

  As if recharged, Stella scrambled out of his lap and crawled to the entrance. In her haste, her robe opened wider, baring a shoulder. She practically jumped to the ground. Will had to widen his stride just to catch up with her.

  Stella ran into the house, past her mother. She went straight up the stairs to the second floor. Will had never seen her move so fast. He assured Mrs. Patterson everything was okay, even if he didn’t quite believe himself, before he followed Stella.

  Without thinking if she wanted him there, he went into her room. The walls were covered with sketches for dresses and pages from magazines. One corner housed her sewing machine. The table in another was laden with fabric and more sketches. Opposite was her unmade bed. Then his gaze landed on a board made of all things that shined and sparkled. It was propped on an easel and contained eight names he recognized from Stella’s book.

  “Whoa!” he said, wide-eyed. “Is that the Boyfriend Bracket?” He shook his head and forced himself to focus. This wasn’t the time or place.

  At the center was a torso with a beautiful silver dress with what looked like a million feathers for a skirt. All he had to do was imagine Stella wearing it, and the image took Will’s breath away. But she made no move to put the dress on. Instead, she was holding a piece of paper. She handed it to him.

  “This is my only chance,” she said, removing the last of the curlers from her hair and letting them fall to the floor.

  “A fashion show?” Will asked.

  “Not just any fashion show.” She flipped her hair. “It’s a design competition. That’s my only hope. I’ve got to get to work.”

 
; “What about the winter formal?”

  “We’re not going. I need to start sketching if I want to win that scholarship to FIDM.”

  “Surely one night—”

  “That flyer was posted last September,” she cut him off like sharp scissors.

  “It’s not until the end of March.”

  “My competition’s already had months to prepare. Final applications for entries are due next week.” Stella was frantic and Will felt helpless. He had no idea what to say or do to make things better.

  “I’ll take it from here,” Franklin said from behind him, striding in like he owned the place. His yellow suit screamed.

  “But—”

  Franklin faced Will and ushered him out the door. “You can’t get through to her when she’s like this. It’s the sequins debacle all over again. Just go home.”

  Will had no idea what the sequins debacle was, but it sounded serious.

  “But,” he repeated, even though he had nothing else he knew to say.

  “Will, go home.” Franklin looked him in the eye. Behind him, Stella was already sitting at her desk, pencil flying over a piece of paper. “I promise to have her text you when she’s calmed down.”

  Feeling lost, Will nodded. Franklin closed the door to Stella’s room. The click of the lock seemed so loud in the silent hallway. Defeated, Will turned and left.

  FOURTEEN

  FASHIONABLY JUST IN TIME

  Stella breathed a sigh of relief. All her entry requirements for the contest were submitted. She had made it before the deadline! All week, ever since the night of the winter formal, she had been vibrating with uncertainty. It was an odd, unsettling feeling. She had always been so sure of her path in life. She had been preparing for fashion school for years. To be denied entry into one of the most prestigious schools in the country was a huge blow that knocked her down.

  But her determination was stronger than any rejection letter. Like the phoenix from the ashes, she would rise better than ever. She had to. It was the vow she had made to herself. She had a little over two months to come up with a dress that would blow the audience away and scoop up their votes come runway day.

  Saturday morning came sooner than she expected, having been lights-out almost as soon as her head had hit the pillow the night before. She rolled over to her side, away from the beam of sunlight streaming in from her window. She had work to do, but her bed was so warm. Her hand brushed against a smooth rectangle by her pillow.

  Picking up her phone, she opened one eye. Beside the time, which was five minutes after nine, was the message icon. She had received a text. She punched in her code.

  Her heart squeezed. It was from Will. Of course it was. She had been the worst secret girlfriend in the world. While usually her in-box was full of their conversations, that week she had replied to him only once or twice. Sometimes with just an emoji.

  So much had been happening. She caught herself wishing their relationship wasn’t so secret. Sneaking around took such effort. It was exhausting. Stella ignored the text and called Will instead. Shifting flat on her back, she brought the receiver to her ear. She massaged her forehead with her other hand. After three rings, Will answered.

  “Hey,” he said, sounding genuinely surprised. And happy.

  His cheerful tone almost made Stella waver. Almost.

  “Hey,” she answered, more subdued.

  “How did it go?”

  It was a repeat of his text. He was being supportive. It killed her how perfect he was. And here she was, imperfect. The braids, braces, and glasses might be gone, but in many ways, she was still that same girl.

  “Got all the requirements in.”

  A breath of relief preceded the words, “That’s great. I was on the edge of my seat all day.”

  She could hear the smile in his voice. “It would have been better if you were there when I was submitting all the requirements.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t get away. Cam was with me and—”

  Stella closed her eyes and prayed for strength. “I know, I know. It’s always the same when my brother’s around. I’m just saying it would have been nice, that’s all.”

  A pause followed. Then, “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what to do.”

  Will’s enthusiasm had gone down a peg. Stella hated it. She wanted him happy. She wanted him, period.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, the corners of her eyes growing damp. “The stress is getting to me, that’s all. I wanted my boyfriend to be there.”

  “I should have been.” His tone was as if he were tired. “Here you are taking your future seriously, and I couldn’t even show my support. I’m sorry for being such a coward.”

  “No!” She sat up. “You’re not being a coward. I’m in this too.”

  “I really want to see you, but I’m swamped here.” The worst part was the helplessness in his voice.

  Stella shook her head, even if Will couldn’t see the action. “No.” She closed her hand around the pendant. “I completely understand. I have to work on the dress for the fashion show, so even if you came I won’t be able to hang out.”

  There was a long silence that followed. At one point, Stella thought Will had hung up on her. But when she checked her phone’s screen, the call was still in progress. So she waited.

  Finally, just when she was about to speak again, a long breath came from Will’s end. She imagined him running his ink-stained fingers through his hair. When he spoke again, Stella thought she couldn’t be more heartbroken than she already was.

  “We’re okay. Right? Please tell me we’re okay?”

  She gasped, unsure why his logic went in that direction. “Of course we’re okay,” she said with conviction. “Just busy.”

  “Like before the holidays.”

  “Yeah.” Her heart sputtered. “But we’ll text more.”

  “We will.”

  But when she ended the call, she got the feeling she wasn’t telling the truth.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Franklin said from the left side of her bed. He had spent the night. “You guys can hang out.”

  Stella frowned. “I need to put all the time I have left into this.”

  “Girl, that boy is the kind of distraction you need to keep you focused.”

  “I thought this year was just going to be about dances and waiting for acceptance letters.” Her shoulders slumped. “But it’s not looking like that anymore.”

  “You crazy.”

  “I’m being practical. Will’s doing his thing. I need to do mine. And that means banging out a rocking dress for this competition.”

  “I can help.”

  Stella straightened. “You have your own design to worry about.”

  “I’m months ahead of you.” Even without product in his hair and sans makeup, Franklin still looked stunning. Stella resented his flawless complexion for a second.

  “But you’re not done,” she insisted.

  Franklin sat up and stretched like a cat in a patch of sunlight. “I can withdraw from the competition.”

  “Nuh-uh.” Stella shoved a finger toward his porcelain-skinned face. “Just because you got into Parsons doesn’t mean you can coast.”

  “I’m sorry.” But it didn’t look like he was, though.

  Stella placed her hands on his shoulders and shook him gently. Franklin’s head bobbed as if he were a bobblehead.

  “It’s not your fault. Parsons just didn’t like my portfolio.” She was proud that not a hint of bitterness tainted her voice. “You motivate me. You’re my competition. I’m taking you down.”

  The glint in his eye told her the taunt had worked. “Then prepare to lose.”

  “Over my fashionably dressed dead body.” She returned his smile of challenge. “That scholarship is mine. Now I’m taking a shower, and we’re having breakfast; then we’ll start work on the dress.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Franklin powered his own phone and was fiddling with the screen while Stella
crawled out of bed and put together the clothes she was wearing that day.

  “Holy crap!”

  “What?” Stella looked toward Franklin. He was slack-jawed, staring at his phone. “What is it?”

  He showed her the screen. She was too far to see properly, so she stormed the five steps from her closet to her bed and took the phone from him. The screen featured an online article.

  “That idiot,” she said, a smile stretching her lips.

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  She shook her head, making up her mind. “You and I are going for a drive. I’m going to knock some sense into this fool; then we’re going fabric shopping at Mood.”

  Franklin mirrored her grin. “I like that plan even better.”

  * * *

  EVERY FEW MINUTES, Will looked up from the panel he was inking to stare at his phone. He hated how the call with Stella had ended. He should have gotten into his truck and driven to Oak Hills to see her. But he was on a deadline too. One she didn’t know about. How could he have told her when she was under so much stress?

  He figured while she was busy with the dress, he would put his head down, incorporate the notes about the comic from his editor, send the entire thing in, and then worry about repairing his relationship with Stella. And that started with planning on how to tell Cam. With the release coming in eight months, he was going to find out anyway, and that scared the shit out of Will. It would be infinitely better if Cam heard from the horse’s mouth.

  His mind was made up. He had to keep working.

  The tip of his ink pen was about to make contact with Morla’s thigh when the door to his dorm slammed open. He startled with a yelp. The pen flew away from his desk to land on his bed, leaking onto his sheets. An inkblot started to form. He turned to face whoever had surprised him—and not in a good way—with choice expletives ready to leave his mouth. But all the words disappeared when he recognized who was standing by his door like an avenging angel.

  “Stella? What are you doing here?” he blurted out, eyes about to fall out of their sockets.