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F O R T Y S E V E N
- Madeline -
I checked the time on my phone and scanned the messy clothes rack in front of me. It wasn’t going to be easy to sort the items for next week’s shoot before the end of the day, but I was determined not to be a frenzied mess on Monday. Besides, I enjoyed handling the designer clothes and admiring their meticulous construction.
I also enjoyed any distraction that kept me from driving myself crazy with thoughts of Quinn. I missed his warm body beside mine and the effortless way his hands slipped under my shirt when we kissed.
On some level, I understood why he was keeping his distance and not bringing our relationship back to a boil too soon, but that didn't mean it was what I wanted. I much preferred the way my skin felt when his hands had been on me and the delicious soreness between my legs that an evening with him practically guaranteed.
Unfortunately, the only soreness I felt at the minute was in my tired feet.
BELLE was profiling the top ten most influential fashion bloggers you “need to be following yesterday” for their next issue, and the whole week had been a flurry of interviews and photo shoots with people I really looked up to. Most girls my age would probably get more excited about the features we did with famous actors and musicians, but I felt way more alive around the bloggers.
These were people with a skill I genuinely envied. Not that I wanted fame necessarily, but I knew from running my own blog how difficult it was to grow massive followings from scratch. I especially loved the fact that they’d all achieved similar success while maintaining such distinct styles. They were living proof that I didn’t need to imitate anyone else to succeed, proof that I could make it by being myself.
As I sorted the jumbled rack based on the checklist Crecia gave me, I imagined what wardrobe essentials I would recommend if I were granted a two-page feature and what accessories I might wear in my shoot. It would depend on when I got the call, of course, since I’d want to choose items that were seasonally appropriate. And while I didn’t love the idea of perching on a stool while a photographer danced around me, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe after my time here, I’d know exactly how to bend one knee and throw my head back so I looked the embodiment of youthful zest and effortless style.
The plink of a text message woke me from my reverie, and I scanned the haphazard stock room before checking it.
"What are you wearing?" Quinn asked. He'd been texting me a lot this week, letting me know I was in his thoughts and that he was looking forward to Saturday.
"You mean besides a smile?"
"Obviously," he said. "I didn't see you before you left this morning and picturing you in your pajamas all day hasn't been great for my productivity."
"I'm surprised you remember what my pajamas look like," I said, unable to help myself. After all, it had been weeks since we'd spent the night together, and our schedules had been all over the place lately.
"As if I could forget. Send me a picture."
I glanced over my shoulder before remembering that almost everyone had left for the day. So I raised my phone, snapped a selfie, and sent it to him. He wouldn’t be able to appreciate the fit of my brown cigarette pants or my comfortable gold flats, but at least the simple white T-shirt I was wearing had delicate ruffles on the sleeves.
"I like those earrings," he said a moment later.
I reached up and felt one. They were tiger's eye stone wrapped in gold wire, a gift from my sister. I liked how they dangled beside my jawline and brought out the lighter tones in my brown hair.
"They'd look great on my nightstand."
I blushed as I read his bold words. "Is that your way of suggesting I wear my lucky panties on our date tomorrow?" He'd already told me he was working late with his dad tonight, so I planned to crack a Smirnoff Ice and draft some content for my blog before I crashed and burned from the long week I had.
"Surprise me."
I rolled my eyes, slipped my phone in my back pocket, and redoubled my efforts to get the newly delivered items off the "hot rack," where nothing was supposed to linger too long. It took another twenty minutes to sort everything, but it was worth it since Crecia was always in a better mood when the hot rack was empty for at least a few minutes on Monday morning.
Speaking of the devil, as I made my way towards the elevators, she stepped out of her office and called my name, which still delighted me to no end. Not that I ever let it show in my face.
I lifted my chin in her direction, started across the room, and walked hurriedly past a half-dozen empty desks. When I reached the doorway to Crecia's office, I rolled my shoulders back and stepped inside, lingering by the door. "What can I do for you?" I asked, hoping she realized it was after hours on a Friday.
She was wearing a faux leather turtleneck and a pair of black, wide-leg trousers that revealed only a hint of her spiky-toed Louboutins when she leaned back against her desk. "As you know, your internship with us is coming to an end."
I didn't need the reminder. Knowing I was about to be homeless and unemployed hadn’t exactly slipped my mind.
"Have you considered whether you'd be interested in accepting a fulltime position if an offer were extended to you?"
"Of course," I said, even though I wasn't sure I meant it. Not that I didn't like the work and the people…well, sometimes I didn't. But that would be true of anywhere, right? Plus, I was a big believer in keeping my options open whenever possible.
"It’s not entirely my call," she said. "But I know we have an opening, and Jin's no longer being considered after the stunt she pulled this week."
My eyes widened. "What stunt?"
