More than Fashion

20

s**t, this was bad. Jeff had an advantage from being on the show before, giving him extra insight into how it worked and the best way to stay in the game. But more than that, he was a really good designer who was willing to play dirty if needed. He’d come in fourth last season, barely missing out on showing a collection at New York Fashion Week, and I had a feeling he wouldn’t let the opportunity pass him by this time. He would do whatever it took to make sure he got to the end.

Jeff found his new workstation, which had been someone else’s yesterday, while Lola went on. “For today’s challenge, we want you to make an unconventional wedding dress. Something bold, something unique, something we haven’t seen before. It doesn’t have to be white, but it does need to look like something a bride would wear. You will have two days and two hundred dollars to spend on fabric.”

Ooh, this would be a fun challenge. I could already think of a couple unique things I could do. And with two days and a decent budget, I’d have time to make something that would impress the judges. After the last challenge, there was no way I was going to be stuck in the bottom again.

Once Lola left, the crew opened the fabric room for the first time. Some of the designers started sketching, but I rushed right for the fabric. Once I had an idea of what I’d be working with, I could figure out my design.

Inside was like a designer’s paradise. Row after row of gorgeous fabrics of all different colors and types, plus all the buttons, zippers, and trim we could ever hope for. I wanted to run my hands along every single one of them, but that would take too much of my precious time. Besides, I would be back for future challenges.

For this challenge, I wanted to use color, but I also wanted to make sure my dress felt bridal. Hmm…what if I got white fabric but dyed it, creating an ombré effect? If I screwed it up, it would go horribly wrong, but an idea was starting to form in my mind that I thought would work.

I spotted a lovely white silk fabric that would be perfect, but it was up high and with my barely five-foot height, I couldn’t reach it. And the only other person in this aisle? Gavin.

He was checking out an off-white satin I’d also considered. I debated waiting for someone else to come by or finding someone from the show to help me, but that would take too long. I tried to reach up and grab the bolt myself, but the tips of my fingers only managed to push it back even farther on the shelf. Dammit.

Gavin watched the entire thing with an amused expression that I wanted to smack off his face. I finally sighed and gave in to defeat.

“Would you mind getting that down for me?” I asked. “Please?”

“Funny, I thought I was the last person you would ever ask for help.”

“I don’t see anyone else around, do you?”

He tapped a finger on his lips, considering. “And if I help you, what will you do for me?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Fine. What do you want?” I asked, glaring up at him. He was so much taller than me, probably a full foot at least, and being so close to him triggered a rush of unwanted lust. His head was tilted down to mine, his dark hair falling just above his gray eyes, his lips parted. If he wanted a kiss, all I had to do was lift up on my toes and press my mouth against his. Our previous kisses had been so amazing, so unforgettable, that the urge to kiss him again was so strong it was almost painful to resist it.

“Tell me something personal about yourself,” he said.

I blinked at him. That’s what he wanted? “Like what?”

“I don’t know… Where do you go to school? Who’s your favorite designer? Do you often pick up strangers in hotel bars?”

“UCLA. Alexander McQueen. And it’s happened more than once.” I held out my hand. “Fabric, please?”

He got it down easily, but didn’t give it to me. “McQueen is my favorite, too.”

“McQueen is everyone’s favorite.” I snatched the roll from his arms and stomped out of the aisle. Yes, he was hot enough to melt my panties off, and yes, his accent was doable all by itself, but every time he opened his mouth, I wanted to wrap my hands around his throat. And not in a s****l way.

Okay, maybe also in a s****l way.

Damn him.

In the next aisle, I grabbed four boxes of dye, then had one of the “employees” cut me enough fabric and ring me up. We didn’t actually have money to spend, but we were given a budget for each challenge, and all the fabric and trim had prices, which set limits on us. That way, no one could buy ten different fabrics to play with or go back over and over if their fabric choices didn’t work out as expected. We had to be strategic with our purchases. I rushed back to the design room to get to work. A few people talked now and then—sometimes to themselves, sometimes to others nearby—but overall the room was so quiet you could actually hear it when someone dropped a pin. From watching the show, I’d never realized how much time the designers spent working in silence. Now I was starting to suspect most of the hours in the design room would be that way. It made sense; the show had to cut down a day or two’s worth of recordings into only an hour. They picked out the juicy bits, then edited them all together to make it seem like the designers were surrounded by drama and chaos all the time. But the reality was much different.