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She comes over, catching my gaze and welcoming Ruby but keeping her hugs and air kisses to herself.The restraint. Her simple black silk slip matched my red one, and as I disappear, grabbing my own transformational jacket, I know I’ll look almost as amazing as she does.
The delicate lace glides over my shoulders, stopping at my elbows, whereas hers is full length and goes to her wrists, a single strap sliding over her thumb. The silver beads and gems we embedded are heavy at the base of her floor-length train, feathering out up to the bodice. With mine being a deep crimson, we went with black beading, and with her being the centre of attention, I stopped mine at knee length.
“May I?” Ruby asks as I join them, gesturing to the train of Tamsin’s jacket.
“Of course,” she replies, flicking my fingers out of the way to take over my awful attempt at fastening the delicate hook and eye on the front. “Sorry we didn’t wait for you,” she says quietly. “We assumed you’d given up waiting and come in already.”
Penelope sneaks in, passing beside us to join Oliver on a sofa, a smile on her face as that jealous irritation bubbles again. Stephanie isn’t going to take her moving in on him well either. After all, he’s gone out of his way to make sure everyone knows she’s his and kept safe, and that works both ways.
“Sorry,” I reply, my gaze flicking to where Ruby studies the hem of her dress, no doubt doing her best to look like she’s not eavesdropping whilst absorbing every word. “We got a little… delayed.”
“We heard.” She grins.
Heat creeps up my neck as I press my lips together, attempting to hold in the embarrassed smile desperate to break free.
“Are you okay down there?” I ask as Tamsin finishes the last clasp, stepping back to straighten and adjust it over my shoulders.
“I still can’t believe you did this by hand,” Ruby says, wonder laced through her tone as she turns to look at the detail on mine. “These are totally amazing.”
“Thank you.” Tamsin smiles, ever grateful for the acknowledgement of her natural talent.
“Why she’s wasting her life in philosophy and not design, I will never understand,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
“Just because I can, doesn’t mean I should,” she jabs back with a smile. “This is for fun, enjoyment, and happiness. Something that looks good on your face, for a change.”
“Uh-huh. You’d better get back, Taylor’s looking for you,” I say, tipping my glass in his direction before taking a sip.
She nods, clinking her glass against mine before heading back to Taylor.
“Philosophy?” Ruby asks as I watch my best friend loop onto her man, showing off the leather at her wrist with pride.
I wish I could do the same, but it doesn’t feel like a coupling, like a conscious choice. Not yet, anyway.
“Apparently so,” I reply distractedly.
“What a waste. That top is amazing, they both are.”
“Yep.”
It’s a conversation we’ve had more than once.
Her designs are incredible, her creative ability way beyond anything I could dream of, and yet, she holds it back from the world, only allowing them tiny glances; like tonight. If she didn’t want to make, why not just design and work with a seamstress? But no, it’s not that.
I’m not sure what it is.
Something, for sure.
The fear of failing? Of not beinggoodenough? Or maybe she thinks it can never be a reality for her, that she’d never make it anyway, so why bother?
I don’t know. She won’t talk about it.
And she’s happy making designs for herself when the moment takes her; when inspiration hits. So, why push her for more? Tobemore, to take on more. I’d rather she was happy than taking that enjoyment and potentially transforming it into a chore.
“You people are weird,” Ruby comments.
“I thought you were one ofour people?” I reply, moving us through to the dining room and gathering a couple of chairs. It’s easier than I expected, the room half empty as I find us a corner to sit in.
She doesn’t reply, just follows along with me, silently watching everything and everyone as they move around the house with the practised ease of those with money. There’s no keg on the table, no rowdy boys fighting in the backyard, and no humping and grinding on the dance floor. Well, not yet, anyway.
