by Piper Lawson
I turned around to look in the mirror one last time to ensure nothing was out of place. I was falling in love with this green dress. The nude heels made my legs look a million miles long. My face still looked like mine, but elevated—the slate shadow made my eyes pop and the pale gloss added to the ethereal look.
The music started and the first designer’s models were lined up. They looked very space-age. By contrast, Ava’s designs were a mix of whimsical with urban chic. The lines were clean and edgy, but pretty details and fabrics made the pieces feminine.
We were the second designer. I could hear the crowd applaud for the first, then suddenly it was our turn. My stomach knotted a bit but with excitement, not anxiety.
Emily was to walk first, then Jane. I watched them on the backstage monitor. Emily had actually modeled in high school, so rocked it out. Emily’s long, thick blond hair was pinned up into a high ponytail with braids like mine peeking out of it. The silver skirt and gray tank were gorgeous and wearable at the same time. That was Ava’s magic—her designs had a youthfulness to them without feeling immature or frivolous. Most people who saw her designs thought she was much older, because she had the discipline to get things just right and not overdo it.
Em strode down the runway, which was done in smoky taupes and reds to look like fall leaves. She hit a couple poses that looked natural rather than forced at the end, sticking a hand in the otherwise-invisible pocket of her short skirt before pivoting and walking back. Every step she took looked like she owned the place. Glancing over at Ava’s face, excited and nervous, I could tell she thought the same.
Jane did an amazing job for her first time. While she didn’t have Emily’s confidence, her walk was consistent and her look was so exotic people might not have noticed. Ava nudged me toward the curtain and I pulled my eyes away from the monitor. “Get ready!” she said.
I could feel myself getting into it. It was hard not to get caught up in the feeling of it all. Stepping through the curtain I saw all the people. Just walk. And I did, my green dress swinging lightly with my steps.
It was a total rush, knowing hundreds of eyes were on me. With the bright lights, I couldn’t make out a single person but didn’t care. I felt like a rock star. I wanted to pinch myself—say are we doing this? Will this really be our life?
I re-entered the backstage area and high-fived Ava. Her eyes were lit up. A moment later she looked startled, and someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and a guy about my height with my heels on, with spiky platinum hair, electric-green eyes, and several piercings down his ear, was standing there.
“Walk for me,” Blake Evans said.
“Um, excuse me?”
“Leslie sent me over. I have a line set to go in an hour. Walk for me.”
“Tonight? Can we talk in a few minutes? I just have to finish this thing.”
“Sure, as long as you say yes.”
My head was swimming. It was super flattering and I didn’t think Ava would mind if I did another lap of the runway.
“Then yes!”
After all the models had walked, the student designers stepped out on the stage with their models in tow. The emcee walked out with a mic.
“Tonight we have a special honor to give out. The judges’ choice and people’s choice awards.” The first went to a guy named Archie who Ava knew but didn’t hang with. His clothes were definitely more out there than ours. “The people’s choice will be announced later once we’ve had a chance to tally the votes in the boxes.” The emcee gestured to them.
“Now everyone give a big hand for our young designers, and welcome our LA showcase!” Ava, Jane, Emily, and I hugged and went backstage to change.
Blake was doing a work collection. He put me in a swingy gray jacket and slouchy black pants, with high over-the-knee black boots. They changed the hair slightly, leaving the braids but converting it into a high pony. The makeup got stripped and redone in smoky earth tones. I got to keep the glossy lip. I loved it all. The clothes were a completely different style than Ava’s, but they were stunning and feminine.
After my second walk of the night I carefully stepped out of Blake’s designs and replaced them with a gold shift dress that might’ve been glam but felt mundane after the amazing pieces I’d already worn that night. Blake had grabbed me, kissed my cheek, and pressed a card into my hand.
Still floating, I made my way up to the top deck to look for Ava. Instead I ran smack into Jake.
He looked down at me, his face so familiar though I’d barely set eyes on him in six months. It struck me that he wasn’t as tall as Dylan. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” I said.
“Emily told me about it. I wanted to support you guys.” He leaned over to give me an awkward hug. It was actually kind of sweet. I made a mental note to murder Em.
“We did pretty good, huh?” Now that the hurt had gone away, talking to him again was easier.
“You did amazing. Both of you.”
I smiled and looked around.
“Listen, Lex. I didn’t have a chance to say it before, and I totally understand why you didn’t respond to my texts. But I’m sorry about the way things ended. And I was hoping we could be friends. Would that be too weird?”
I sucked in a big breath and thought about it. I was surprised the animosity I’d been harboring for so many months had mostly evaporated. We’d probably never be close, but I didn’t want to avoid him anymore. “Sure, Jake. Friends.”
His face split into a smile. “Great. So … can we grab coffee or something sometime?”
I glanced over his shoulder and saw Ava and Dylan talking. I hadn’t known whether he’d come. Ava was animated, probably recounting her victory. His gaze found mine, locked, before dragging back to her.
“Yeah, OK,” I said absently, my attention far past him.
When Dylan saw Jake talking to me he hugged Ava quickly and let her go off the other way while he made a beeline for us. My eyes begged him to remember our rules. He pulled up between me and Jake, even though I wanted him closer.
“Déjà vu.” He said, looking between us.
“Jake and I were just talking. Thanks for coming, Jake. It was good to see you.” And this time, it was. My smile was genuine as he turned and walked away.
Dylan turned to me without saying anything for a moment. The wheels were turning. “Should I be worried?” he asked finally.
“He was just being nice. I think he feels badly about how he left things.” I still was a bit uncomfortable with Dylan since our fight about Travesty two days ago. We hadn’t broken up, but we hadn’t cleared the air either. I wasn’t sure I could be with him if he didn’t believe in me. Even Jake, who had zero stake in this, was doing a better job of feigning support at the moment.
“And what about how we left things?”
I sighed and looked around, unsure of what to say. Dylan saved me.
“OK, let me start. I need to say two things. First, you were unbelievable.” His eyes warmed, and I knew he didn’t just mean the dress and the hair and the makeup.
“Thank you.”
“And second …” he trailed off for a moment before starting again. “I didn’t come here to fight. I wanted to see you. But can I ask you something and not have you take it the wrong way?” I looked at him warily. Waited.
“Why does this matter so much to you?” He gestured around us. “Why do you want to make this your life? It doesn’t strike me as you. It’s just a bunch of pretty clothes on pretty girls. It’s not real. You’re so much more than this.”
I tried to quell the rising emotion and instead channel it into an explanation. He did mean well. “It matters because me and Ava, together, we’re creating something beautiful for people. Something they can wear on the first day of school, or on a date with their boyfriend, or out with friends. Something to live their lives in, work in, play in. And no matter where they go, they’re going to feel special. They deserve to.” I could tell Dylan was trying to understand. “I may not b
e the artistic genius Ava is, but it means something to me. It’s a feeling that we can share with girls everywhere.”
I could sense it might be hard to grasp. He looked at me with those intense brown eyes.
“But fashion doesn’t seem like a real industry.”
“It’s a pretty real industry. Just because we don’t build things out of concrete doesn’t mean it isn’t.” I pulled the card from my clutch. “This guy just offered me five thousand dollars to model for him.” Dylan’s brows furrowed. “And before you say anything, he’s legit.” I smiled.
Dylan’s eyes widened a little. “I guess so. What did you say?”
“It was tempting, but I said I was pretty busy getting Ava’s and my line up and running. I asked if I could look him up to get some feedback, and that maybe I would take him up on his offer once we get Travesty rolling.”
Dylan was mulling this over, and it looked like he gave in. I didn’t know whether we were on the same page, but something shifted. His face, looking more tanned than usual in the darkness, softened into a smile that was just for me. Dylan glanced around casually before leaning over so his mouth brushed my ear, just once. The way he did it wouldn’t have appeared suspicious even had anyone seen. I could feel his dark hair graze my cheek. “You look like a fantasy tonight,” he murmured. I shivered and he pulled back to look into my eyes. “Can I take you home?”
I wanted to. So badly. “I’d like that. But tonight’s about me and Ava.”
His face fell a little. “Are we OK?”
“We’re good.” I reached out and took his hand in the darkness. Gave it a squeeze.
He nodded like he understood, or at least was trying to. “OK, well you guys have a good night. Don’t get into too much trouble.” Dylan receded to the background.
An hour later they announced that Ava had won the people’s choice award. She and I were jumping up and down because we were so excited. Turned out the award also came with a one-thousand-dollar prize, which Ava and I split, both of us deciding to put the money toward our trip to New York this winter.
I texted Dylan to tell him.
Congrats. And so it begins …
I smiled.
Goodnight Dylan
I’m glad you came
Goodnight Lex. I’m glad I came too
The rest of the night was a blur, but a happy one. We drank way too much champagne and fell into bed in the early hours of the morning.
Chapter 23
I was getting better at the sneaking around, but it was getting harder to keep us a secret.
Part of the reason was Dylan himself. I could sense that as we were becoming closer, he was getting more and more dissatisfied with our arrangement.
We’d made up completely since our fight. In addition to making up verbally, we’d made up in his car, my shower, and the library.
Even if he didn’t completely understand what I was doing—with Travesty or with him—he went along with it. But as my feelings for Dylan grew more intense, so did my feelings of guilt. The rationalizations I’d been using were starting to sound hollow in my head. He might’ve been helping with work, but was I getting as much done?
What about the nights I spent with him? Or spent thinking about him? What about the way I was effectively lying to my best friend, who mattered more to me than anything on the planet? Still, I refused to pull my head out of the sand because when I was with him, everything was too good. I just wanted to put myself in his hands and forget the world.
We were in my rented study room at the library the week before Thanksgiving. There were limited places we could hook up without being spotted, and that was one of them. Incidentally we were actually studying today. Or rather I was polishing off my draft presentation for Kirsten. I even ran it by Dylan. He seemed impressed and had some good ideas to make it better. See? the pro-Dylan part of my brain pointed out.
“I made you something.” He was sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall, and I was between his legs in front of him, typing on my computer. I turned around to face him.
“Is it cookies? You know I love cookies.” I smiled mischievously. “I’d do a lot for a good cookie.” Unable to resist, I leaned into him and pressed my mouth to his lightly.
“Hmmm. I’ll file that one away for future reference.” He reached over to his backpack and opened it up. Produced a long box about six inches tall and handed it to me.
“Looks like a lot of cookies.” But it was light. I opened the end and pulled out the contents, which were wrapped in tissue paper.
It was a tiny Brooklyn Bridge.
I’d found out in the last few weeks that Dylan was amazing at building model bridges. It was something he’d done since he was a kid, and he had brought just a couple with him to school. It seemed to take a ton of patience and effort.
“So you can bring a little New York to SoCal when you can’t be there,” he said.
“You made me a bridge? Dylan, it’s amazing!” I turned it over in my hands, examining the tiny details. Then I carefully set it to the side and turned back to look into his eyes. “Thank you,” I said earnestly. It was probably the sweetest thing anyone had ever gotten me.
“You’re welcome,” he said, pulling me to lean against his chest. It was hard to believe that just a few months ago this guy hadn’t even been in my life. Being with him made me feel alive. And understood.
His voice was in my ear, breaking my thoughts. “I think we should come out.”
My smile faded. “Come out? Like, to other people?”
“Yes, that’s what that means. We’ve been together for weeks. I just want to be able to be seen with you in public. Stop sneaking around. Do things normal couples do.”
Something like panic welled up in my throat. “Dylan, you know I care about you, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Then something occurred to me. “Is that why you built me a bridge? To get me to come out? Is this a coming out bridge?”
He released an exasperated sigh. “No, it’s not a coming out bridge.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no? Is this about Ava?”
“Yes.” And partly it was.
“What do you think this is, the college equivalent of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’? Ava’s not stupid. She’ll figure it out eventually. I feel like an asshole lying to her.” And you should too, he didn’t have to add.
I pushed away from him to sit on the other side of the room. It was too hard having this conversation when we were touching. “Don’t you think I do too?” But it wasn’t like I had a better solution.
I should’ve seen this coming a mile away. And part of me did, though I’d ignored it, stomping on the sensible part of me in favor of warm eyes and sweet words and mind-numbing sex.
“So what I don’t understand is what exactly you think we’re doing here. Are we just screwing around? Because if we aren’t, you’re going to have to come clean some time. The way you’re acting makes it seem like that might never happen.”
I’d been nothing but upfront with him about how we could be together—that this was the only way. I needed to keep this separate from my friends, from Ava. From work, though it was questionable how well I was succeeding on that front. I didn’t need complications. And coming out was … a complication. But I also wasn’t ready to end this, and there was no denying to myself or him that our feelings were growing. I just needed more time to figure it out.
“Dylan, I don’t know what’s going to happen. But I do know that telling everyone’s not going to solve anything—besides make you feel a little better.”
“You’re so focused on Ava. But it’s not just that. What am I supposed to say when the guys try to set me up? When girls ask me out? That I’ve voluntarily chosen celibacy?”
Now he was acting his age, and it irritated me.
“Let me get this straight. You want us to tell other people so you don’t have to keep finding reasons to turn down dates? Grow up, Dylan. There are bigger things involve
d here than your reputation with the cheerleading squad.”
I knew I’d gone too far when his eyes hardened and his mouth formed a tight line. Dylan pushed himself to standing and collected his books.
“Given I’m so immature and superficial, it’s astounding you signed on for this in the first place.” He walked out, pulling the door behind him with a click.
Chapter 24
Thanksgiving had come before we knew it.
Since the start of college I’d always gone to Ava’s for the break. Her family wasn’t perfect, but they were tight. Her mom, Christine, and dad, Paul, had always been amazing to me. Had been welcoming since the first time I came for an impromptu sleepover in grade school.
Unlike my mom, they seemed to take everything in stride. Including Ava’s early forays into fashion. Like the time she’d nabbed our second-grade teacher’s scissors and done some impromptu styling on Ashley Cook’s corduroy jumper at recess. It had ended up sleeveless with a serrated edge. (Ashley had loved it. Her mom and Mrs. Darby, not so much.)
It was only a thirty-minute drive from our place to theirs. Even though we had a perfectly good washing machine Ava insisted on taking laundry home at least every couple of months.
“Mom misses me. This is one of the ways she copes,” Ava insisted, dropping the world’s largest hamper into the trunk of my car before sliding into shotgun. I passed her the tin of molasses cookies I’d made that morning for safekeeping on the ride.
“Somehow I doubt your mom’s waiting with bated breath on your dirty sheets and tights.”
My fight with Dylan was still top of mind. We hadn’t made up and it was eating at me. Though I knew he was going home for Thanksgiving, we’d had only a brief exchange in the week since and it’d been by text. Basically he’d said he would see me at home but had a killer assignment due.
It was the “I’m not avoiding you, I’m studying” excuse. I wrote that excuse. And the fact that he was using it with me drove me crazy.
