Page 9 of Revelry
“Yeah, uh—” My hand twitched for the back of my neck, but I held it in place on my lap. “I actually kind of do this for a living. Fashion, I mean.”
“Really?” Yvette bounced, clearing our drinks and dumping the glasses in the sink. “Oh, you have to tell us all about it. I’ll make lunch. Burritos okay?”
“Oh, actually, I’m going to head back to my cabin,” I said, the legs of my chair grinding against the hardwood floor as I stood. “I’ve just got some work to do and a few things still to unpack.”
Yvette’s face fell, and once again I hated the anxiety I felt in situations like this. I didn’t have a damn thing to do back at the cabin, but I’d been maxed out on social interaction for the day. I knew I should stay, take the welcome I’d been given, make a few friends, but I just wasn’t ready.
Anxiety was new for me. I’d always been known as the goofball, as the sun in the room, at least until I’d sat next to Keith on a marriage counselor’s couch as he described that quality as if it were the worst one in the world to possess.
“She’s like a nucleus,” he said, shaking his head. I wrung my hands next to him, watching the woman sitting across from us as she jotted down notes in the thick book on her lap. “It could be someone else’s birthday, and yet everyone would stop when she walked into the room. Everyone wants to be around her, and she’s the center of attention. Always.”
But to Keith, it wasn’t a compliment.
It was a flaw.
“But next time, okay?” I added, pushing Keith out of my mind. “I’d love to tell you all about it.”
That made Yvette light up again, and Tucker, who’d been surprisingly quiet since my appearance was brought up, popped up out of his chair quickly.
“I’ll walk you back,” he offered enthusiastically.
“You don’t have to. Really,” I tried, but he was already ushering me toward the door. I looked back over my shoulder at Momma Von for help, but she simply grinned and threw me a wink.
Traitor.
My stomach twisted as we descended the stairs and made our way down the drive. My cabin was only a few doors down, but every step seemed to stretch a mile.
“So, you work in fashion, huh? That’s pretty unique.”
I nodded with a smile, hoping he’d catch the hint that I wasn’t into talking, but he kept on.
“What exactly do you do?”
“I’m a fashion designer. I own a little boutique in Seattle with my best friend.”
“So you like, make the clothes?”
“Kind of,” I said. “I sketch them first, fill in the details as they come, and then work with my team to bring them to life. Most of it is born on paper and digitized on my tablet or laptop, then we work together to find the right fabric and get to sewing. But once I see the clothes on a mannequin or a model, there are always changes to be made. Sewing is tricky like that. It’s about cutting and shaping and piecing it all together in the perfect way to achieve what you want.”
“No shit,” he said, goofy grin wide on his face.
He really did have the pretty boy look down. Sandy-blond hair combed over, slight dimples that framed a bright white smile. If he were a little taller, he would have been perfect for a runway show.
“So you’re like those girls onProject Runway,huh?”
Just two more cabins.
“Something like that,” I answered flatly, my final attempt to squash the conversation.
The truth was that I was one of the most well-known local designers in Seattle. The small boutique Adrian and I had dreamed would maybe break even after five years of business had ended up booming in just one. All it took was one fashion blogger to stumble in one day and everything changed. Clothes were flying off the racks faster than we could design them, and our team of two grew quickly to a team of five.
My line had remained modest throughout the years, though—mostly due to Keith not wanting to move to New York City to take a risk on any of the offers I’d had to expand it. I’d convinced him to come with me to Fashion Week only once, and he’d made fun of every designer and every line. He didn’t understand it, thought fashion was unnecessary and strange. He never imagined the “hobby” I’d enjoyed so much when we met in high school would blossom into my career.
But it did. And he hated it.
I frowned. Keith was popping into my mind too much, more than I expected him to since I’d come to the cabin to get more in touch withmyself.He was such a big part of me, always had been, and I was beginning to realize that not thinking about him wouldn’t be easy to do.
We were almost to my cabin, and the last thing I wanted to do was talk anymore about myself, so I turned the attention to him. “What about you? What do you do?”
