Page 77 of Never Have I Ever
“I guess I did. I love clothes. My mother used to sneak me in to see the runway shows ever since I was twelve. I fell in love with the designs. The way clothes could tell a story, invoke emotions, it was art.”
She nods, smiling. “That’s a good response,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee. “Do you have your portfolio with you?”
I nod, taking out my binder from my purse. “Yes, I brought it with me.” I hand over the binder to her as she opens it up and studies the years of designs I have done.
I started designing my own clothes when I was around thirteen, but ultimately started making my designs into reality when I was fifteen, so I have years of trial and error, with only the best of designs in that portfolio.
I know I’m good and that my designs are innovative, but does that stop me from psychoanalyzing every expression on Emily’s face? No. Any time she hums, I start to panic, and when her eyes widen, my heartbeat picks up. I know I’m good enough, but I’ve had years of the opposite being engrained into me, and despite never being enough for my parents, I know my designs tell a different story. This is what I’m meant to do.
She continues scanning through my designs, and when she closes the binder, she has a warm smile on her face. “I love them,” she says. I let out a breath of relief. “I think you’d be a great fit for our line. The designs are new, fun, and absolutely gorgeous.”
“Thank you, I really appreciate that,” I tell her.
She nods. “Good talent needs to be recognized, and you,” she says, pointing at me, “have talent.”
I grin. Hearing it sounds so good. And to hear from Emily that she loves my designs makes me believe I did the right thing by going to college and pursuing my dream of fashion.
“I’d love to hire you for our team of designers. You have the eye for what looks good and what’s trendy and what will make Livingston Couture a successful business,” she says, grinning, and I let out a laugh. She was in Forbes as one of the highest-paid women. Livingston Couture is one of the biggest high fashion companies, but I guess the desire to be better never ends.
“I’d love to be part of your team,” I tell her, almost jumping out of my seat. Working for Emily Livingston? That’s a dream come true.
“Great,” she says. “That’s what I like to hear.” She smiles. “However, this job opportunity has some stipulations.” She clears her throat. “You’d have to move to Paris.”
My smile drops. Paris?
“I’d love to have you on my team, but the New York offices are full. Paris fashion week starts later this year, and most of the work for that is done locally. If that’s something you can do, I’ll gladly give you a place on my team.”
I nod, swallowing. “I’d love to move to Paris. But I’m currently still in college, and I’d really like to graduate before that. Would that be possible?”
She studies me for a second before nodding. “I understand the need for an education, especially when you want to get a job in design, but I’m offering you a job right here, right now, and I can’t promise the same opportunity will be available once you graduate.”
I sink a little in my chair. What the hell do I do? I have a dream job in front of me, but I have another dream back home. I want to finish college, live the collegiate life with my friends, and continue having the fun I’ve been having with Grayson. But this is an opportunity of a lifetime.
She must be able to tell I’m debating on what to do because she interrupts all my thoughts by clearing her throat. “I’ll tell you what,” she says. “I’ll give you a month to decide what you want to do. But I’m afraid after that, I need to fill the position, and the offer won’t be available anymore.”
My eyes lift to hers. She needs a month. I can do that. I can make up my mind in a month. “Thank you,” I tell her. “I need to think on it.”
She nods, standing up. “I understand. It was nice to meet you, Rosalie.”
“It was wonderful to meet you, too,” I tell her. She smiles and then leaves.
I have a month. Thirty days to decide what I want to do with my future. I thought I’d have more time. But right now, I have the choice between staying in college and focusing on my designs and maybe starting my own line or being a designer living in Paris.
25
Withdrawals
Grayson
I tuck my phone back into my pocket, wanting to forget about it completely.
I can’t just sit here and keep staring at my phone. That’s sad. I don’t do that. Especially not because of a girl that’s been on my mind for the past two days. I keep looking back at our messages, looking at her name, imagining her reactions to my texts.
Who the hell have I become? I’m here re-reading old texts, and she’s in New York. She’s having fun, and I need to let her do that. Even though all I want to do at this moment is text her, call her, or see her. Fuck. I miss her.
I don’t know why. We haven’t even known each other for that long, but shit, I miss that girl so much. It’s been over a week since I last saw her, and right now, I’m feeling the withdrawals from it.
I wonder what she’s doing in New York. Is she scouring for more potential husbands, or did she just crave a trip to New York? I don’t know. I never know with Rosalie. She surprises me every day. When I first met her, I thought she was a cookie-cutter good girl, but she’s so much more than that.
