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When the show is over and the models get out of the clothes, Michelle and I put them in the right packs again for the next show.
“We should do Milan or London if this goes well,” I say.
“We should!” Michelle agrees. “I’ve been saying that for years.”
I laugh. “I know, I know.” I was too scared to jump with my eyes closed. But after this, I feel like I can conquer the world.”
“Oh, you have a visitor,” Michelle breathes, looking over my shoulder.
When I turn, I spot Noah following Amy Greer through the crowd of designers and models. He looks around, eyes wide.
My stomach turns.
He came for me.
“He was looking for you,” Amy says with a secretive smile. “I don’t usually bring people back here.” She leans in conspiringly. “He made a very good case, though, and he’s hot.”
Michelle giggles.
“This place is insane,” Noah says when his eyes fall on me. “How do you tell top from bottom around here?”
“It’s an acquired skillset,” I say with a laugh. “What are you doing here?”
“I want to take you out tonight. When I didn’t hear from you, I was going to call, but I thought it would be better to talk to you in person.”
He’s right; it’s better. His cornflower-blue eyes drink me in and his smile makes me go weak at the knees.
“I can’t,” I say, deflating a little. “I have work to do.”
“Of course, you can!” Michelle cries out. She looks at Noah and nods firmly. “She can.”
“We have a show tomorrow,” I say pointedly.
“And everything runs smoothly. The show ends at seven, anyway. I’ll cover whatever still needs doing. Go on.”
When I look at Noah, he’s grinning at me. Amy watches it all, just as invested as Michelle is. I roll my eyes and smile.
“Okay,” I say. “The peer pressure is unbearable.”
Noah laughs and beckons with his head. “Follow me.”
When he starts walking, he stops and looks around, confused.
“I think you should follow me instead,” I offer and I lead us through the chaos that is Fashion Week and out into the open air.
“It’s nice to get a glimpse of your world,” Noah says. “Everything looks so orderly and simple on the front end.”
“It’s because we work so hard behind the scenes,” I say. “Have you seen a lot of fashion shows?”
He shakes his head. “Not at all. Football is my thing, and the skinny girls on the ramp are a far cry from the sweat and grit on the field. I just see glimpses when I flick past the channel on TV.”
“Verycultured,” I joke.
“Everyone keeps saying that,” Noah says with a laugh and scratches his head before leading me an Audi SQ8. He opens the passenger door for me.
“Wow,” I say, climbing into a car with a console akin to a spaceship.
“Step up from the cab the other night, huh?” he says when he gets in behind the wheel. “I don’t drive when I’m going to drink.”
