Page 48 of Darn Knit All

Slowly, seemingly reluctantly, Mai pulled her gaze away from me to answer Michelle. “I didn’t actually enter,” she admitted. “Theo did it for me. I’d have never had the courage.”

Michelle sighed dreamily. “What a wonderful relationship. Now, let’s move on to something fun. Favorite thing to do together?”

“Easy,” I replied. “Eat late-night ramen and binge old sitcoms.”

“Your design style?”

Mai lifted her hands, finally relaxing enough to become lost in the conversation. “I’m passionate about sustainability. My designs are all about wearability. I want people to be able to take something and wear it time and time again, and for it to continue to feel new and different each time.”

“I love that,” Michelle said, clapping her hands. “I can’t wait to see what you bring to this competition.”

After what felt like an eternity of probing, we were finally released into the wild—also known as the mixer.

Exhausted—and me with a headache building—we walked into the room to find the event in full swing. The studio had chosen this hotel as it had a giant convention space attached. It was in the convention warehouse that they’d created a decadent fashion show space, complete with a stage and runway.

I glanced around, trying to figure out if this is where we’d be filming or if they had another, separate space set up.

Music pumped over the loudspeakers, while the crowd shuffled and flowed, bumping against us. The lights in the room were dim with spotlights highlighting models who stood on small platforms around the room.

“They’re wearing designs by the judges,” Mai said, hushed reverence in her voice. “That one is worth millions of dollars—I think one of the royal family wore it.”

I glanced at the dress but was more interested in finding some chow. “Do you think there’s food here?

Mai raised up on tiptoe, trying to peek over the top of the crowd. “I can’t see anything.”

I sighed heavily. “Guess we better wander around and see what we can scavenge. I’m not above cannibalism at this point.”

Mai linked her arm with mine. “Chin up, we can hit room service soon.”

Gorgeous people in gorgeous clothing stood everywhere, chatting and laughing as they sipped wine and admired the models. In my ear, Mai kept up a running commentary of who was who, regularly gasping and fangirling over different designers and models as they moved around us.

I knew she was talented; it’s why I’d wanted her to be on this show. But seeing her here, in this room, surrounded by people she followed and designers she admired, I discovered a new side to Mai I hadn’t known existed.

She belongs.

“Jesus,” I murmured to Mai as we passed yet another cluster of people dressed in every shade of black. “Are we at a fashion show or a funeral?”

She snorted, leaning into my side. “Charcoal and taupe are very popular this season.”

I looked pointedly at her pastel blue dress.

“I know,” she laughed. “I prefer color. It’s very last season.”

I glanced down at the outfit she’d made me. While I’d been working around the clock to master the basics, Mai had laid down some serious thread to craft me a wardrobe for the competition.

“I need to represent myself,” she’d explained, crouching between my legs as she’d pinned my inseam. “Which means you need to be wearing designs by me.”

“I’d wear a napkin if you made it,” I’d said loyally.

“Let’s hope I can pull together something a little more concealing. No one wants to see your ass on TV.”

“Not when you can see it in real life, right?” I’d asked with a grin, flexing my ass cheeks.

She’d blushed and made me pay for my teasing by forcing me to try and create a three-piece suit. Torture.

We made our way around the room, finally finding a waiter offering canapes and some decidedly non-alcoholic drinks.

“You must be the last couple,” a warm voice said, interrupting Mai’s explanation of the beauty of one of the outfits on display. “I’m Gretchen Mishra, and this is my partner, Jodie.”

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