Page 61 of Crash and Burn
"So we're going to be here a while?" he said.
"I warned you that you might be bored," I told him.
"I can find ways to entertain myself," he promised.
I kept half an eye on Grant as I rummaged around in bins and racks of clothing, waiting for something to catch my eye. He followed me around for the first few minutes, watching me pick out pieces, stare at them, then put them back with a shake of my head.
"How do you know if something's good to work with?" he asked.
"I just know," I replied. "I'll spot something and all of a sudden ideas start popping into my head. I start seeing all kinds of ways I could re-use the piece to create something different."
"See, I was right," Grant said.
I looked up from the piece I'd been contemplating. "Right about what?"
"You've got an artist's soul, too," he said. "You've got that creative spark. You've got a gift."
A gift. It was exactly what Carling had said. I didn't think Grant would appreciate the comparison. Still, it was gratifying to hear something like that from two different people. People whose opinions very much mattered to me.
I held up the jacket in my hands, then put it back on the rack.
"I'm not seeing much I can work with," I said with a purse of my lips.
"Some of those shirts looked pretty nice," Grant said with a nod of his head to a bin I'd already sorted through.
"Maybe for my own stuff," I told him. "But I'm looking for something I can use to impress Farrow and Paige." I purposely didn't use Carling's name.
"Don't put too much pressure on yourself," Grant said. "You started doing this for fun, remember?"
I twisted the ends of my hair between my fingers anxiously.
"Fun isn't good enough for a fashion brand like theirs," I said.
"Here." Grant pulled a lycra bodycon dress and jean jacket off a rack and shoved them into my hands. "Go put that on."
I looked down at the clothes.
"It's hot pink lycra," I said. "With a zebra pattern. And this is a faded, bedazzled jean jacket.”
"I bet they’ll look great on you," Grant replied.
"That's because you're a boy and have no clue when it comes to women's clothing," I said.
"Someone somewhere thought that dress was fashionable," he pointed out. "Come on, try them on."
I looked at the dress and jacket skeptically.
"It can be our own fashion show." Grant grabbed another handful of random clothes and grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the change rooms. I followed reluctantly.
"You really want to see me in this?" I asked.
"It'll make for some fun pictures," he said.
"Fine," I gave in. "Give me the damn dress."
I went into the changing room and pulled the curtain closed. There was still a small crack between the curtain and wall. I peered through it. Grant had his back turned, not trying to sneak a peek.
I pulled my own dress over my head and shimmied into the lycra bodycon. It was a struggle to get it on. I tugged the hem down over my butt and shrugged on the bedazzled jean jacket. There was no mirror in the change room so I didn't know how ridiculous I looked.
