Page 67 of The Chase

“I’m keeping my coat on, if it’s all right with you,” I say wryly. “I’m chilled to the bone.”

“As much as I’d love to see what dazzling and fashionable outfit you’re wearing underneath all those layers, I’ll let it slide.” He winks. “This time.”

A familiar uneasy sensation ripples in my belly. It’s the second week of classes and Laurie has been nothing but friendly to me. But every time I’m around him, my creep-o-meter goes haywire. The winking hasn’t stopped, either. He flashed no less than ten winks to various female students yesterday.

“Sit down.” He gestures to one of the plush visitor’s chairs as he settles in his own chair. “Let’s discuss the midterm first.”

Nodding, I sink into the chair. We’d already emailed back and forth a few times about how he’s going to accommodate my learning issues. There are two major papers required for this course, but I’ll only be turning in one, the midterm. For the final essay, I’ve been given permission to do a seminar in front of the class, where I’ll have to lead a discussion on a topic that Laurie assigns me.

On Monday, he handed out a list of themes for the midterm, and I chose what I believe will be the easiest one to write. Now he just needs to approve it.

“Have you decided on a topic? I want to make sure you’re comfortable with your decision before you start writing.”

His genuine concern thaws some of my wariness toward him. Despite the chronic winking and occasional creepy vibe, he does seem like a good professor. One who cares about his students.

“I’d like to do the one about New York fashion. I think I can find a lot to say about the topic. I’m planning on starting an outline tonight.”

“All right. Perfect. And you have my email address, so you can contact me if you get stuck or if you want me to look over your thesis.”

“Thank you,” I say gratefully. “I might take you up on that.”

Laurie smiles broadly. “Good. Now, moving on, I need to see your proposal for the fashion show.”

“I’ve got it right here.” I reach into my messenger bag and pull out the leather portfolio that holds my sketches, a brief write-up of my swim line, and the comparative photographs he requested. “I included images from some lesser-known swimwear designers who I’ve been inspired by lately.” I slide the portfolio across the desktop.

Laurie’s expression shines with approval as he flips through the photos. “Kari Crane,” he says with a nod. “I was in the front row for her debut in Milan.”

“You were?”

“Of course. I never miss a Fashion Week.”

“I go to Fashion Week in Paris and New York,” I tell him. “But not usually Milan.”

Laurie flips to the next designer. “Now these are intriguing. I love Sherashi’s use of beadwork in these halter tops.”

He seems to know every single designer on the planet, and I’m somewhat awed by that. “Me too. I also love how she infuses her own culture into her line.”

“Bollywood meets French Riviera. It’s brilliant.”

“Yes. Exactly.” I can’t help but beam at him. And he hasn’t winked or flirted in the past five minutes, which is a relief. “For my line, I want to play around with a combination of classic and modern, with some boho-chic thrown in the mix.”

“Interesting. Let me take a look at your sketches.” Concentration creases Laurie’s forehead as he studies the drawings I’ve enclosed. “These are quite good, Summer.”

I flush. I’m not the best artist when it comes to portraits or landscapes, but I’ve always had a knack for drawing clothes.When I was younger, I filled entire sketchbooks with what I considered the perfect outfits or styles.

“Thank you.” I hesitate as he studies a series of sketches featuring men’s trunks. “I know swimwear isn’t going to be as difficult to design as, say, formalwear, but I’m really passionate about these. And obviously I can include more pieces in the show so that my workload is comparable to the other students’.”

“I’m not worried about that,” he says absently, moving to another sketch. When he finishes examining each one, he looks up with a pleased smile. “I’m on board with this.”

Excitement stirs inside me. “Really?”

“Oh, yes. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.” And just when I thought we were done with it, he winks. “I’m especially curious about who you’ll line up to model these designs.”

Ew. Way to ruin the moment.

“You’re a tall girl,” he adds. “You should think about walking the runway yourself. I have no doubt you look incredible in a bikini.”

Double ew.

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