Page 60 of Never Have I Ever
She’s the best to work with. And obviously, seeing as we’re best friends, it was the best choice. But no matter how much I try to force the money on her, she always denies it.
I get it. We’re friends, and she feels bad taking money from me. At the same time, it's a stupid thing to decline. If I were to hire another model, I would have to pay them either way. The only reason I ask Leila to model for me is that she’s around me often, and I already know her body, her measurements, and the way clothes fit on her. It makes it so much easier to get a design done.
“You don't need to thank me. It's not a big deal,” she says, turning around to face the mirror. “I should thank you,” she says, her eyes widening as she smooths her hand over the dress. “My butt looks good.”
I let out a laugh. “That’s your body, not the dress,” I tell her. Her curves are perfect for the fit of this dress and make the fabric cling to her body while highlighting every dip and curve in her body.
“Trust me, it’s the dress,” she says. “You know, I’m going to an event this week. If you want, I can wear it to the party and promote it.”
My brows snap up. “You’d do that?”
She shrugs, looking at me in the mirror. “Of course. Your designs are great, Rosie. They’ll get the traction they deserve, and I want to be a part of that.” She smiles. “Especially because I think it’s amazing that you’re designing a luxury fashion brand that’s inclusive.”
My eyes soften. “That was a given. I want everyone to be able to wear my designs.” The thought of having a plus-size best friend and ending up designing a line that would be for straight sizes only would be like a slap in the face to her.
I wasn’t even aware that there weren’t many designer brands that offered plus sizes until Leila told me. It’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard. People of all sizes love designer clothes, and they’re missing out on a market with a lot of potential customers.
She laughs. “Yeah, speaking of, I’m keeping this.”
I snicker. “It’s all yours,” I tell her. “After I make the changes.” I snap my fingers. “Strip.”
“Bossy,” she says as she pulls the zip down and steps out of the dress.
“I’m practicing for when I’m a ruthless famous designer.” I joke.
She places the dress on the couch and heads towards my bed, where her clothes are sprawled out. She starts putting her clothes back on, and I take a seat on the couch, folding up the dress so I can fix it later.
“Do you know where I can get drugs?” I blurt out.
She stills, her head stuck through her shirt as she stands there, frozen in place, gaping at me. “What?”
I pull my lip between my teeth. “I was thinking.” I start. “I wanted to have the college experience that other people have, and that includes experimenting with new things.”
“And you want to do drugs?” she asks.
I nod. “Yeah. Have you done it before?”
She sits on my bed, sighing. “Yeah,” she admits. “Once or twice.”
“In college?”
She shakes her head. “In high school. Jake was always smoking, and he gave me some to try.” Her face falls a little at the mention of her ex-boyfriend.
“Did you like it?”
She scrunches her brows. “I don’t know. It just made me a little drowsy and hungry, I guess.” She shakes her head and pins me with a concerned stare. “What’s this about?”
I haven’t told her how humiliated I felt at the party when everyone practically gaped at me for not drinking to anything. I felt like an outsider, like I didn’t belong all over again.
“I never got to do anything like that,” I tell her. “You know how my mom was. I missed out on a lot.”
“I get it, Rosie, but drugs, really?”
I shrugged. “Nothing too dangerous,” I say. “Just a little weed or something.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” she says.
I tilt my head. “Talk about what?”
