More Than Fashion (17 page)

She looked down at it with a frown. “It’s the only one I have with me. Sorry.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m desperate here. I’ll do anything.”

Gavin strolled up to me at that moment, flashing one of his charming smiles. “How’s it going?”

The girl’s eyes widened, and she clutched the candle she’d been holding to her chest. “I
love
your accent. Where are you from?”

Oh my god. If I heard one more girl ask him that question, I would scream.

“London,” he said.

“Wow, I’ve never been there, but I’ve always wanted to go.” She batted her eyelashes at Gavin. “Are you a designer on the show, too?”

“I am.”

It took some serious effort not to roll my eyes at the way the girl fawned all over him and the way he lapped it up. I turned back to Gavin. “I was hoping to use her tablecloth, but she says she needs it. Guess I’ll ask some of these other vendors.”

Gavin rested a hand—the one without the rose tattoo—on the girl’s table. “That’s too bad. Are you sure there isn’t anything we can do to convince you?”

Her cheeks flushed bright pink. “Oh, um… Gah. I don’t know.”

“Whatever you want,” I said. “I’ll sing you a song. Do a little dance. Hell, I’ll even get Gavin to take off his shirt for you.”

That earned me a raised eyebrow from him, but he flashed the girl another smile. “If that’s what it will take.”

The girl laughed. “Seriously? It’s freezing out here.”

“I’m from England. This feels like a warm summer day.” He slipped off his coat and handed it to me, then reached for the buttons on the front of his checkered black-and-white shirt.

I’d meant the taking-off-his-shirt thing as a joke. I never thought he would go for it. But the girl laughed and said, “Okay, I’ll give you the tablecloth if he takes off his shirt.
And
gives me his number.”

“Deal,” he said. Off came the first button, revealing a flash of his chest. He unbuttoned slowly, never taking his eyes off the girl, like he was stripping for her. A wave of jealousy rushed through me. I wanted to be the girl he took his clothes off for.

No, I couldn’t think like that. Gavin and I weren’t really together. He could get naked with whomever he wanted.

I’d just…prefer it if he wanted to get naked with me. And only me.

Once his shirt was unbuttoned, he slowly eased it off his broad shoulders, then folded it in half and handed it to me with a wink. His toned chest teased me with its trickle of hair trailing into his jeans. His nipples were dark against his skin and hard, standing out in the cool air.

“How’s that?” he asked the girl.

By now we had something of an audience, and a couple women hooted and cheered. The
Behind The Seams
camera caught it all. Tiny flecks of water began to fall from the sky—not truly raining yet, but enough to tease us with the promise of it.

“Perfect,” the girl said, her voice breathy. “Here’s one of my cards.” She handed him a business card with her contact information.

“Lovely to meet you, Cindy.” He took a pen off her table, grabbed another business card, and wrote his name and a long string of numbers on the back. “I’m looking forward to chatting with you in a few weeks once I’m done with the show.”

She nodded, biting her lip, and clutched the card with his number in her hand. I couldn’t believe he’d actually given her his number—and in front of me, too. But why should I even care or expect anything different? We weren’t dating. I had no claim over him. I just had to ignore how I wanted to grab the card and rip it into a million little pieces. And resist the desire to knee him hard in the balls, too.

“The tablecloth?” I asked. The girl blinked and removed her candles and soap from it, then folded it up and handed it to me. I snatched it out of her hands, muttered a thanks, and stomped off.

Gavin caught up to me quickly. “Could I get my shirt back, or should I keep flashing everyone in the park?”

Oh, right, I was holding it. I shoved it at his chest without a word, then kept walking. But he caught my arm, tugging me back to him.

“Don’t tell me you’re mad,” he said.

“I’m not mad.”

“Liar.” His tattooed hand found my cheek, and he caressed it softly. “Do you think I go around taking my shirt off in public and giving fake numbers to strangers on a regular basis? No, Julie. I did all of that for you.”

My breath caught. “You gave her a fake number?”

“Of course. I’m sure she’s perfectly nice, but you’re the only one I’m interested in.” He pulled the business card from his pocket and ripped it in half. Then he walked to a nearby trashcan and threw it away. “See?”

I smiled, feeling silly for overreacting and for being so jealous when he’d been helping me. Not that I was willing to admit that. I gestured to his naked chest. “Put your shirt back on already. You’re making me cold just looking at you.”

Another lie. I was warm all over, thanks to him.

He grinned at me and slipped his shirt back on, his long fingers quickly buttoning it up. “Don’t forget you’re the one who suggested the whole thing.”

“I didn’t think you would actually do it!”

“For you, love? Anything.”

Maybe his charming words and selfless actions were all for the camera, but I didn’t care. I slid my arms around his neck, standing on my tiptoes to press my mouth against his. His arms circled my waist, and he kissed me with enough passion to almost make me believe it was all real.

As we kissed, the random, small splattering of drops shifted into a stronger downpour. The weather turned quickly, and it took us a moment to realize it, too wrapped up in each other to notice the outside world. We pulled apart and laughed, looking up at the water streaming down on us. We were quickly soaked from head to toe, but the cool rain on my face felt good, especially after being cooped up in that building for so long. I held out my hands, letting the drops trickle through my fingers, catching some in my mouth.

Gavin watched me with a smile, his chestnut hair dark and wet, his shirt clinging to his skin. It shouldn’t be possible for him to get any sexier, yet seeing him standing there in the rain, water dripping down his face, made me ache for him more than ever. I wanted to grab hold of that wet, dark hair and yank his cool lips to mine. I wanted to rip off his soaked clothes and lick the droplets off his skin. I wanted to do naughty things to him until we were both warm again.

His eyes were the color of the storm around us and filled with the same longing and desire as mine must be. His gaze dropped from my face, slowly traveling down my body, then fixing on my breasts, which I’m sure he could clearly see through my thin, pale pink dress. My jacket hung open at my sides, and my nipples were taut, both from the cold and from desire. I could see his breath in the air, his chest rising and falling, his body poised like at any second he might spring forward and grab me in his arms to do all the things I wanted to do to him.

Gavin smoothed back his slick, wet hair. “Julie…”

Then I was in his arms again, holding his scruffy face in my hands as we kissed. Our wet bodies slid against each other, our skin burning up despite the cool rain trickling down our faces. I felt his arousal through our damp clothes, and I couldn’t get enough of him. I felt dizzy, desperate, almost sick with the desire to be with him.

Our cameraman cleared his throat, reminding us we were not alone, but standing in the middle of Central Park in a rainstorm with a camera filming everything we did. “Your four hours are over.”

We broke apart, sighing. Back to the show.

***

When we returned, they didn’t give us much time to rest or recover, just fed us lunch and threw us right into the design room. We didn’t stop working until late that night, then crawled back to the Loft to crash and do it all again in the morning.

Trina won the challenge, which was fitting since she was from New York. She’d gotten free maps, visitor brochures, and theater programs from around Times Square and other tourist spots, then turned them into a dress with a collar. She’d also found a broken umbrella someone had discarded and used it to create the skirt, giving it a nice flare at the hips.

Gavin and I were both in the middle, but by this point I wasn’t surprised that I didn’t win, even if I thought my dress was pretty awesome. I’d used the sheer fabric Gavin had gotten for me as a long, sleeveless dress, then attached the branches, leaves, and petals to it in a colorful, floral design I thought captured the beauty of Central Park.

Gavin, on the other hand, had taken his newspapers and created a complicated, highly structured dress. He’d folded and layered the paper to give it a full skirt and tight top, then used duct tape he’d found in a trash bin to give it a contrast hem. When he was done, it didn’t even look like newspaper.

But I nearly burst into tears when they announced who was going home: Molly.

She’d made a dress using lots of different bits of fabric she’d collected or begged for around the city, creating a patchwork effect. It wasn’t a bad dress, but the judges said it was too crafty, too frumpy, too uninspired. Plus, it didn’t use any unconventional materials.

Backstage, I gave Molly a tight squeeze, my eyes watering. I wasn’t all that surprised she was going home since she’d never been one of the judges’ favorites either, but I still wished she didn’t have to leave. Even though she was my competitor, I’d grown fond of her these past few weeks.

“It’s fine,” Molly said, patting my arm. “This isn’t the end for me. It was a great experience and I learned a lot, but I miss my family. And you’re all such talented designers I’m not upset that one of you will win. Now you take care of each other, okay?”

“We will.” Gavin wrapped an arm around me, and it was so unexpected I nearly jumped. Jesus, when was the last time a guy had done that to me? It had been so long since I’d dated someone for any amount of time that I couldn’t even remember. Most of my relationships were quick hookups and not much more.

I knew some people thought I was a slut or whatever and that I must have a reason for not getting serious with anyone, but I didn’t have a tragic past. My parents were still happily married. No guy had ever broken my heart. I just liked sex and didn’t want to be tied down to one guy. I was only twenty-one and still in college, after all. I had my whole life ahead of me and a career to focus on. What was the harm in having some fun while I was young, right?

But as Molly said her goodbyes, I leaned into Gavin and it felt…nice. He was a warm, solid presence beside me, supporting me, showing the world we were together. And that’s when I realized—I wanted that. Me, who didn’t have time for serious relationships. Who scoffed at the idea of settling down with one guy. Who’d never had a boyfriend that lasted longer than a month.

Yet in a few short weeks, I’d gone from lusting after Gavin’s body and wanting him for one thing only to actually liking him—a lot. As a friend and as a person, but also as…something more. Maybe even enough to consider something long-term with him. A future, even.

And that scared me. Because I had a feeling when he and I finally got together? It would be good. Really good. Mind-blowing. It wouldn’t just be a quick fuck. It’d be the kind of sex you remembered forever. The kind of sex that
meant
something.

I didn’t want it to mean anything. I wanted to love him and leave him like I did with everyone else. If I let myself care about him, if I let him have a piece of my heart, I wouldn’t be able to focus on what was important—winning this show so I could prove to my parents that I could do this. As long as we were on the show, he was a distraction, nothing more.

I was here to win. Not fall in love.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T
he runway show was earlier than normal that night, and we soon discovered why. The producers had arranged twenty-minute video chat sessions for all of us with our family members. Trina and Gavin went first, in separate offices on the first floor, while Dawn and I waited outside. After the first ten minutes, I spotted her biting her nails, ruining the French manicure she’d done the other night before bed.

“Nervous?” I asked.

Dawn dropped her hand and sighed. “I’m debating whether to tell my father I’m with Trina. He has no idea I’m bisexual and I don’t want him to find out by watching the show when it airs…but I never imagined I’d tell him like
this
either. I’m not sure I’m ready. What do you think I should do?”

“Hmm. Is this thing with Trina serious? Do you think you’ll keep dating after the show is over and we go back to our regular lives?”

“I think so.” She gave me a shy smile. “I hope so.”

I didn’t know how either of them could be so sure. Life on the show wasn’t like normal life. We were stuck together 24/7, with very little sleep and no contact with the rest of the world. Tensions were high, and we were competing against each other. Plus, they didn’t live anywhere near each other—Trina lived in New York and Dawn lived in Oregon. But for some reason, I thought the two of them might actually make it work.

“Trina’s crazy about you,” I said.

Her smile brightened, lighting up her pretty face. “We’ve only known each other a few weeks, but it seems like much longer. I’ve never felt like this with anyone before.”

“Then you need to tell your father. If not now, then as soon as you see him in person. Maybe at the finale show?”

She ran a hand through her golden hair. “If I make it that far…”

I wanted to reassure her, but there were six of us left—and only three of us could make it to the finale. Dawn, Trina, Gavin, and I had all become close while on the show, but at least one of us would be going home in the next few days. Maybe more than one.

“What about you and Gavin?” Dawn asked.

“I…I don’t know. It’s all still really new.” I’d love to tell her the truth, that there was no me and Gavin really, but the cameras were recording everything.

The door to one of the offices opened, and Trina walked out, smiling. Today’s bow tie was white and covered in tiny black moustaches.