Page 42 of Wicked Love

“Yeah. That too.” He paused. “I was thinking, you should apply to a fashion school next year. I saw how talented you were when you modified that gown. Just sayin’.”

“You think I’m talented?”

He nodded. “More than you give yourself credit for.”

“My mom… She will never agree. She thinks I should go into business or medicine since I can’t be a model because according to her, I’m a plus-size. She said I have a crappy sense of fashion.”

“Sorry, but that woman is a witch. Don’t listen to a word she says because it’s probably false.”

I shrugged. “I figured out a long time ago I could only count on myself if I wanted to be happy.”

“You can count on me too. I won’t let you down.”

A new surge of heat crept up my face. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I know. I mean it, though. There’s more than one way to be successful in the fashion industry. Too bad Clarissa missed the lesson.”

We worked side by side for over thirty minutes, Joe icing gingerbread man and woman cookies while I decorated the house.

“And Grace?”

“Yes.” We both froze, facing each other. “Never say again you’re plus-sized. Embrace who you are and fuck your mom or whatever the industry dictates. You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. And believe me, going to arts school, I have met quite a few. From anorexic ballerinas to entitled wannabe actresses. Don’t lose that light you possess. Nobody can steal it from you if you don’t give them the power to do it.”

Emotions lodged in my chest. “You really mean it?”

“Every word.”

Joe and I finished in second place after the jury crowned two middle-aged women as the winning team. As a second-place prize, we won a dinner for two at The Woodsman, an upscale grill slash tavern in town.

Julian and Thomas finished third amongst the older kids. They both received Christmas socks filled with goodies, and by the sight of their huge smiles, they couldn’t be happier. We congratulated them before they ran away to show their friends.

“I told you we’d win,” I said as we drove back to the cabin to shower and change.

“I told you I never lose,” Joe said. Why did his words sound like dirty promises? I had to stop imagining us under the sheets pleasuring each other with our mouths. We were past that, and still, my body and mind couldn’t get onboard with this new plan concerning us.

* * *

Joe ordered wine and poured me some. “To us.” He lifted his glass, and I clinked it with mine.

“To us,” I echoed.

The Woodsman was the fanciest restaurant in Mistletoe Creek. It had a warm and cozy atmosphere. Bronze wallpaper with dark furniture, a patterned carpet over the wooden floor, and a stoned fireplace. The exterior was all bricks covered with ivy. Inside and outside, it had an old castle-like ambiance.

“Thought about what I said earlier?” Joe asked.

I tipped a brow at him.

“About your college application?”

I nodded, feeling flushed, not knowing if it was the attention he cast on me or the alcohol buzzing inside my blood, which spread warmth over my face.

“Earlier, when you were showering, I researched colleges. New York Fashion Institute has the best program.” There, I said it. The first step toward my freedom.

“You did?”

“Yep.” I swirled the wine in my glass. I had no idea why I felt shy right now as we were discussing my future.

“I thought when I shower, you picture me naked.” His face remained stoic as he spoke the words.