Page 73 of Never Have I Ever
I turn my head towards him, seeing him smile down at me. “I’m a fashion major,” I tell him. “I want to become a fashion designer. You know, start my own clothing line.”
He grins as he looks down at my dress. “Yeah, I can see that.” His tongue dips out to lick his bottom lip. “You’ve got great style.”
I smile and tuck my hair behind my ear. “Thanks.” I take another sip of my champagne and look around the room, catching my mother looking at me. She widens her eyes and gestures with her head to Jackson. I roll my eyes and turn to my date for the evening.
“So, how’s the hotel business?” I ask.
He nods, smiling. “Can’t complain. It’s going well.”
“How old are you?” I ask. “I mean, you don’t seem old enough to already own a hotel.”
He lets out a laugh and shrugs. “Yeah, well. My parents gave me the start-up cash after I graduated,” he says with a smile. “To answer your question, I’m twenty-five.”
“Wow,” I say, taking another sip. “That’s impressive.”
“I guess, but you could do the same, right?”
My brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
He takes a swig of his drink and clears his throat. “You could just ask your parents for money for your…” He waves a hand dismissively. “Clothes, or whatever.”
I take a step back from him. “I don’t need to ask my parents for anything. I have my own money.”
“Really?” he asks, lifting a brow at me.
I nod, glaring at him.
“And how did you get your money?” I roll my eyes, which makes him laugh. “Exactly.”
I should have known. He’s part of this lifestyle, gladly letting his mother meddle in his love life. I’m tired of everyone assuming I can’t do anything on my own. I know I’m not wasting my time. I’m doing something I want to be doing, and for the first time in a long time, I’m actually happy.
I place the drink down and turn to walk away, not bothering to give him an explanation as to why I don’t want to stick around and hear him speak about how inconsequential my dreams are.
I hear him mutter something as I walk away, but I don’t stick around to listen. I’m sick of being here, being traded off to a potential husband, and hearing how what I want doesn’t matter. I walk over to where my mother is standing, ready to tell her I’m leaving.
“Oh good.” My mother says when she sees me approaching her. “Rosalie, I’ve got someone I want you to meet.
Oh, for god’s sake. “Mother, I don’t want to meet any other eligible suitors. I’m done, I don’t want a boyfriend or husband or whatever the hell you’re trying to set me up with.”
I hear someone clear their throat, and I snap my head to the tall brunette woman standing next to my mother. My whole body freezes. Emily Livingston. In front of me.
“Have you met Emily Livingston?” my mother says.
I shake my head, stretching out my hand to greet her. She smiles, shaking my hand. My mouth drops open a little.
“Rosalie, is it?”
I nod. “God, I’m a huge fan of your designs. Livingston Couture was the first designer item I bought.”
“I’ll leave you to it.” My mother says, stepping away.
Emily smiles. “That’s wonderful to know. Your mother says you’re thinking of starting your own fashion line?”
I nod, a little confused. “She said that?”
“She did.” She pulls out a card from her blazer pocket and hands it over to me. “I’m very interested in seeing what you design. How about we meet up tomorrow for lunch?” she asks.
I glance up at her, seeing her brows raised, waiting for a reply. I’m supposed to be leaving tonight back to Redfield. But when Emily Livingston asks to talk to you, you don’t say no.
