Emma
"If you check that beading one more time, I'm hiding your sewing kit." Amanda's voice carried equal parts amusement and concern. "The crystals aren't going anywhere."
I forced my hands away from my finale gown, where I'd been obsessively checking each hand-sewn bead. The Laurent Studio backstage buzzed with pre-show energy, smelling of hairspray and dreams about to take flight.
"I can't help it." I smoothed the skirt instead, watching how it caught light like Noah's crystal experiments. "Everything has to be perfect."
"It already is perfect." Amanda squeezed my shoulders. "Just like it was perfect yesterday during final fittings, and this morning during dress rehearsal, and ten minutes ago when you last checked."
"What if something tears? Or a model trips? Or—"
"Or you could bre
