Page 30 of Something Cheeky

She stuck her tongue out at him. Her fingers stopped moving and his cheeks grew pink as he stared at her. Or was he looking at her tongue? Zoe withdrew it back into her mouth. What was supposed to be a playful moment had turned into something she’d never felt around him before. Her abdomen grew warm and her neck tingled. She cleared her throat.

“Fine, I’ll stick with historical Viet clothing, but we’ll give it modern-day pop-rock inspo.” It was better to stick to what was in front of her than attempt to name whatever that was.

“Zoe, why are you still waffling about your concept?” He pushed his glasses back up his nose with a concerned expression.

“I want it to be perfect,” she admitted. This was a big show to debut with, and she had to do it right.

“This entire production is a work in progress. The show will change between now, opening night, and closing.” He walked over to her. “There will be rewrites and tweaks down to the last DC performance.”

“Really?” Her chest tightened as doubt crept back in.

There was so much Zoe didn’t know about professional theater. Sewing costumes forLysistratawas only a small part of the process. She hadn’t been involved in the day-to-day creation like withT?m Câm. She hadn’t even met with the director for the Greek play. Her main contact was the designer and the costume shop manager.

“Yes. Theater is art. It’s breathing and evolving. Especially for a new show. Sometimes we won’t know if a song hits until it’s performed in front of an audience.”

“I didn’t know any of this. All the main stage shows in college were ones that have been around for a while.”

Her armpits became clammy. She’d looked up the scenic and lighting designers once she’d learned who they were. The creative team had years of experience on major shows. Then there was her, a nobody in the theater world.

“I hate to rush you, but we have a meeting with Greg tomorrow. He wants to see your preliminary sketches and go over our progress.”

“Tomorrow? I’m not even close!” Zoe’s heart raced and she swallowed the acid coming up her throat.

“They don’t have to be pretty. Enough for him to understand the concept of your designs,” he said gently.

Zoe nodded as she tried to smooth out her face to hide her panic.

“I can help you however you need,” he offered. “We’re a team, remember?”

“But you and Th?o still have songs to finish. You two are a team, too.”

“She understands that meetings are part of my job. And I’m prepping you for one.” He smiled reassuringly. “So we’re good, okay?”

“They won’t be fully colored. And I have no fabric swatches.” She gathered up all her markers and put them in a pile.

“Hey.” Derek placed his hand on top of hers. It was warm against her clammy hands. “You won’t need those till the first read through. And the costume shop manager can help you shop for fabric.”

“When is that?” She was almost afraid to ask.

“Next week.”

“I can’t do this.” Zoe pulled her hand away and started to pace in a circle—or was that a rectangle?—around her worktable. She was glad her staff was in the front helping customers, so they couldn’t see their usually unflappable boss have a full-blown panic attack.

“Z, breathe.” Derek joined her frenetic pacing. “You’re making me dizzy. Can we slow down and talk about this?”

She took deep breaths through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. After a few counts, her heartbeat slowed down closer to normal and so did she. She stopped in front of her sketchbook,where Derek had flipped to the drawings she’d stayed up all night working on.

“Do for the other characters what you did for T?m’s designs. Those were perfect.” He tapped the paper.

“But I was only playing around. I have to look at the big picture and make them cohesive. They’re supposed to tell a story,” she said too quickly. She took another deep breath.

“And they will.”

Derek was so confident because he’d always nailed his performances. He’d gotten almost every part he’d auditioned for in college. He graduated with a theater degree. Set out on his own in New York. Unlike her. She’d run home with her tail between her legs. Even if it didn’t feel like that at the time, she finally saw her actions for what they were: fear.

“If you say so.”

“Come on, Z. You tell stories with the lingerie you design.” He pointed at the big corkboard where she hung her newest designs. Her team had worked hard to turn her sketches into patterns and to construct lingerie from them.

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