Page 1 of Fake Fiancée for Dad's Best Friend
Chapter 1
Vivian
“I’m going to miss this place,” I say to Ashley, my roommate for two years, while gazing at the mesmerizing NYC skyline night view from Cody’s million-dollar condo in Lower Manhattan. The reason we could afford this luxurious place is because Cody’s mom owns it, and he charges us a low price in exchange for help with school assignments and projects.
All three of us graduated from the Fashion Institute of Technology last week. Ashley and I will move out tomorrow, so this party is both for graduation and farewell.
“Me, too,” Ashley says, taking a sip from her margarita. “But you don’t have to move out. I’m sure Cody wouldn’t mind your staying over the summer.”
“Nah. I shouldn’t. He’s already signed a lease with a new tenant.”
Inside the three-bedroom condo, Cody is talking and laughing over loud music with some girls from our college. The girls flank him and gaze at him as if he were yummier than the refreshment on the platter right in front of them.
I wonder which one will end up staying for the night, and I pray they won’t be loud. Cody’s orgies are the only downside I won’t miss about the high-end apartment.
“When are you leaving for Paris?” One of them asks in a sugar-coated voice while pouting.
“Soon. In about a month,” Cody says.
“Ooh, I’m gonna miss you!”
Cody and I have both been accepted to AFAP, Academy of Fashion Arts in Paris. He has already paid his first year’s tuition and fees while I’m still negotiating financial aid.
I’ve been accepted to all five of the grad programs I applied to, three in NY, one in Paris, and one in Milan. All of them offer me scholarships except the one in Paris, the one I want to go to the most. I’ve written to the school and asked whether there could be some payment plan on the tuition, but haven’t heard back from them. And in the meantime, I’ve accepted an offer to a school in NY.
Being rich helps. I recall the fact with bitterness.
“So, are you going to go with Cody?” Ashley asks, reminding me of the fact Cody has tempted me with a free vacation package, which would be paid by his mom.
“Actually, I’m still waiting for a response from AFAP, but I think I should probably just go to Pierson Fashion Institute,” I say. It’s right in Brooklyn. I can just stay in my dad’s house and commute.
“I thought you wanted to go to Paris.”
I do. But the prestigious school is expensive even with financial aid. I’m reluctant to ask my dad to continue to support me because he has to support his new family.
I say. “But I don’t get what I want, most of the time.”
“Come on,” she says. “How could you sound so pessimistic! You’ve got to look on the bright side! Not many of us could go to grad school, not to mention with scholarships.”
True. I must sound conceited to her. Ashley has been supporting herself throughout college without the help of her family at all. Although she’s had thoughts of going to grad school, too, she gave it up because of financial reasons. “Thanks,” I say to her. “What about you? Which job are you going to take?”
“I’ve decided to work for J. Crew. The people who interviewed me were really friendly, and I always like their innovative designs.”
“That’s great. I’m happy for you,” I say and hug her.
Another reason I can’t go to Paris in the summer is I need to get an internship. I’ve spent most of my time applying and deciding for grad school that I neglected it. Cody offers to help me get into his mom’s company, where my dad works, but I’m not into unisex clothing, which they specialize in. Besides, I want a job where I can experience every aspect of designing, from sourcing fabrics to draping garments, and not just spending eight hours a day on tedious tasks such as preparing cut tickets.
I’ve got to get started. I make a mental note. CheckIndeed.comtomorrow.
To my relief, the party ends with Cody taking some of the drunken guests home. After Ashley and I clean up the place, she yawns and says goodnight. I stay in the living room to browse the latest fashion online, mostly because I want to say goodbye to Cody before heading for bed because I might not see him tomorrow morning.
He returns an hour later, his designer shirt smeared with colorful lipsticks. I do not want to imagine what happened in his Lamborghini in the past hour, although I have a pretty good idea. You can’t blame the guy. Although medium built, with his dreamy brown eyes and short blond curls, Cody is cute. Having a mother in the business, he has a good sense of fashion. He sports a black and white Ralph Lauren shirt which I helped tighten to show his abs, over ankle-length jeans that make him look taller. Yeah, he’s vain like most guys his age, but he’s sweet.
We met in our second year at FIT in a sportswear class and became friends. We studied and worked on projects together, and we went to trade shows and fashion shows. He gave me rides sometimes, and then he convinced me to move into his condo when the last tenant moved out.
Cody plops down on the sofa next to me, throwing his head back, and sighs. “So that’s it? The end of our crazy college life? No more late-night parties?”
I chuckle. “I’m sure you can continue your lifestyle in Paris.”
