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And that’s so fucked up. It’s not me.
It’s just…who she makes me want to be.
When my mind drives me crazy enough that I can’t focus on work anymore, I leave the office and walk to the field where Rooster is the team doing suicides. I jog around the field to warm up, do a couple of stretches, and when they’re done bitching and moaning about how tired they are, I join them for the next exercise that’s bound to have me complaining just as much by the end of it.
But I need this. I want to work it out of my system. I want to fucking stop thinking. I want a break from my mind mulling over it all.
Because I know what I’m going to do, and that’s why I’m so worked up over it.
I’m going to take the leap, even though getting involved with her is dangerous. I’m already too involved. I should run in the other direction.
But I can’t.
I don’t want to.
Chapter 9
Raven
By Wednesday, the Fashion Show is like a well-oiled machine. Since our evening at the hotel where we were interviewed by so many people, it’s like everyone knows who we are, and we get recognition from even the biggest designers. It feels good to be recognized and to be seen as an equal.
“So, have you talked to Noah again?” Michelle asks.
I shake my head, checking a model. “No, I’ve had my hands full with the show.”
Michelle smirks. “You’re not only at the show you know. I know you have time to call Ava; you have time to call him, too.”
I glance at Michelle and beckon the next model closer.
“I know. I was confident when I told him I’d make some time, but now…” I swallow. “I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing here.”
“It’s not wrong to let your hair loose once in a while.”
“Yeah, I know.” I don’t know how to explain what I’m feeling. When I’m with Noah, everything is amazing, and everything makes sense. The moment we’re apart, I start to question myself and doubt my actions. The picture is so much bigger than he knows.
“I don’t want to be that girl that runs after the guy.” I nod at the model, and she stands in line to walk out onto the ramp when it’s time for my line to go on.
“Playing hard to get; I like it.”
I laugh. “It’s not playing hard to get. I just want to know that he wants to make an effort, you know?” I don’t add that he didn’t bother getting back to me years ago when I was pregnant with Ava. I don’t tell Michelle that it’s in the back of my mind, and I’m terrified it might happen again.
“I get it,” Michelle says. “I’m sure he will.”
“I haven’t heard from him. And it’s fine if I don’t.” That’s not entirely true. Every time I see Noah, it hurts a little more when nothing comes of it. Even when it’s my own choice, like what happened just after I arrived in New York. But if this doesn’t go anywhere, my life won’t change.
It will probably be better that way.
“I hope you do,” Michelle says, and her tone suggests she doesn’t believe my statement, either.
I nod, and there’s no more time to talk. My models are up, and I let them walk out onto the ramp one by one. I glance at the audience taking in everything they’re seeing with stars in their eyes. My collections are being received with a lot more enthusiasm tonight than they did the first day, and it fills me with excitement.
It could change everything if they love my stuff enough.
Fashion Week is an unparalleled thrill. It’s hard work—I always tell myself I’m crazy to do it in the weeks leading up to the shows. But then, when I’m here, taking it all in, I can run on this level of adrenaline forever if I have to.
And I always hate it when it ends, although I need the rest. It’s always bittersweet.
This time will be more than ever. Being in New York for Fashion Week this year is an experience like nothing I’ve done before.
