Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
“He will . . . he just needs to chill,” Claude says, looking over his shoulder toward the dorm uncertainly.
I force a smile, clapping him on the shoulder.
The truth is, Tristan’s words stung, even if they weren’t fully true. Yes, I’m lucky my aunt raised me. But I did have my fair share of struggle, and I’m trying to give back.
And even if he’s stubborn, even if he pisses me off sometimes, I won’t give up on Tristan. I understand where he’s coming from.
I just hope I can change his perspective before he does something . . . permanently stupid.
CHAPTER 8
AUTUMN
I’m nervously tap dancing in my flats, a concession from my usual heels because of the amount of work I’m going to do today. I don’t know who’s going to greet us this morning—Jacqueline with her elegant frown, Tobias with his friendly smile, or Simon with his cocky . . . cock. I’m not sure who I hope comes, either. Tobias is the safe choice, with no CEO pressure or sexy questions I don’t have the answers to.
I’ve replayed Friday night at the bar a million times over the weekend and have yet to come to any reasonable conclusion. My embarrassing interruption possibly gave Simon the wrong idea about me, but if that were the case, then why the charade of the get-to-know-you talk? I want to hope that he sees something interesting in me, both with my designs and me as a woman. But that’s crazy. I’m here for one thing only—to compete in the Fashion Females Under 25. That’s my focus. It has to be, because this is going to take all my creativity and a big dose of luck.
Somewhere, someone must hear my hopes because the door opens and Tobias enters. He’s wearing slim-fitting white slacks, a plaid pink and white button-up, a bowtie, and loafers. He could be at a country club mixer, or apparently, working at House Corbin.
“Bonjour, mademoiselles. It is my honor to discuss this week’s competition with you.” We ready our pens, taking notes as he speaks. “The theme will be Summer of Youth, and you will create five designs that encompass that feeling. Each of you will be assigned one special model for a look of your choice, and the other models will be assigned at random. The runway show will be Saturday evening at eight P.M. Work as you see fit, here in the provided workspace, out in the inspiration of Paris, or wherever your muse speaks to you. The supply room is available with most anything you need, or we have an account set up with a nearby fabric store. We want you to succeed, so let your minds run wild, your hands work freely, and create something innovative that has the potential to move House Corbin into the future.”
Energy is buzzing in the room, each of us ready to begin designing. Already, ideas are whirling through my mind.
“Please select a card with your model’s name and measurements,” Tobias instructs, holding up five white cards with the House Corbin logo visible.
Katarina runs toward him, her heels clicking on the floor. She snatches a card and dashes back in line with it pressed to her chest.
The remaining four of us look at her and then each other and then attack Tobias for cards of our own. “Ladies, you don’t even know what you’re fighting for. All of the models are suitable, I assure you.”
I grab one and hold it tightly as though Yori might steal it from me, but it’s with a smile because we’re all laughing at our own outrageousness. “Mine, mine, mine,” I drawl out, mimicking the seagulls in Finding Nemo. Only Molly seems to get it.
“Shut up, you rats with wings,” Molly answers. We meet eyes, grinning like loons.
I look at my card. Jeanette. The accompanying photo shows a gorgeous woman with short, tight natural curls, full lips surrounding white teeth, and a sparkle in her eyes. She’s perfect and I can’t wait to meet her.
“First things first, I think we should go down to the supply area. I know we went there on our tour, but now that you have the theme, the options will seem much more real, I think.”
Smart man. Summer of Youth . . . I need lightweight fabrics, probably bright or pale colored as well. Nothing too crazy. I’m not a neon leather kind of designer. I look around, wondering if any of the other ladies are.
Tobias stands straight, his arms straight up in the air overhead. “On your mark—”
He looks at us, and I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m looking at him stupidly, wondering what he’s talking about.
“Get set—”
Oh, shit. Are we starting the competition now? Like running for first choice of our fabrics? What happens if two of us want the same one? I’m envisioning Katarina and Beatrice rolling around on the floor with a bolt of fabric clutched between them. Molly would swoop in while Katarina was pulling Beatrice’s hair, and Molly would be the victor, holding her gold lame fabric high in celebration.