More than Fashion

24

I’d been confident when I’d come on the show. Maybe too confident. When I’d learned I was the youngest designer this season, I hadn’t let it phase me. I’d taken it as a sign that I deserved to be here. Even when Derrick and Nika called me inexperienced, I’d brushed it off.

But now I keenly felt my lack of experience and schooling. Yes, I was a pretty good designer, but the other contestants had gone to college for fashion design, had worked for other designers, and had spent years in the field already. Me? I’d spent the last few years preparing to be a doctor while tinkering with clothes in my bedroom in my spare time. And that wasn’t enough.

I was out of my league here. If I didn’t step up my game soon, I would be out.

Problem was, I didn’t have the first clue how.

***

I couldn’t sleep. I stared at the ceiling for hours, my poor, exhausted body begging my mind to shut off already, but nothing worked. That damn anxiety was back, giving me insomnia again. And Molly’s foghorn snoring definitely wasn’t helping.

After another hour, I couldn’t take it any longer. I got up and tiptoed past the other sleeping girls and into one of the bathrooms. I stayed in there for a few minutes, enjoying the beautiful sound of silence, until I thought I could brave the bedroom again. But as I walked down the hall, I heard Gavin’s voice.

“Julie,” he said, calling me by my real name for a change. “You’re still awake.”

“Just using the bathroom.” I was suddenly all too aware of what I was wearing: a thin tank top and tiny shorts—nothing else. Not that he hadn’t already seen plenty of me before. But this seemed more intimate somehow.

He leaned against the doorway of the winner’s suite, one tattooed arm arched over his head. He was still dressed in his usual button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark jeans. Neither one of us was wearing our mics. “Do you want to talk?”

“Not really.” I should walk away. Say goodnight. Yet I didn’t move.

“The offer to stay tonight is still on the table. And I’m happy to take the couch.” He lowered his voice. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

Heat flickered through me from his gaze and at the offer in his words. “Ask Nika. I’m sure she’d love to join you.”

“I don’t want Nika.” He took a step forward and brushed the hair away from my face. “Come inside. We can discuss whatever’s bothering you.”

“Nothing’s bothering me,” I said, although I didn’t move away.

“That other night you begged me to stay with you. You said you didn’t want to be alone.” His voice was quiet, too low to be picked up by the cameras recording us. He placed his hands on my bare arms, rubbing my cool skin as though to keep me warm. “Perhaps I can help you sleep tonight, too.”

I stiffened at his words. Yes, I often had trouble sleeping, but I hated the reminder of how pathetic I’d been that night. “What, you think because we hooked up one time that you know me? You’re wrong. You don’t know anything about me.”

“No? I know you’re smart and passionate and not afraid to speak your mind. I know you’re creative and talented and hard-working.” His words were too much, making me feel things I didn’t want to feel. I looked away, but he bowed his head to whisper into my ear. “I know how you taste between your legs. I know the way it sounds when you moan my name. I know the look on your face when you come.”

How dare he bring that up, and how dare my treacherous body respond so easily, practically melting right into his arms. The smell of him, the sound of his voice, the feel of his hands on me—all combined to fill me with an overwhelming rush of desire. It was all I could do not to crush my mouth against his.

And yet, at the same time, I wanted to tell him to go to hell.

He shrugged and took a step back, completely unaffected, and returned to the suite’s door. “Have a lovely evening.”

Oh, hell no. He thought he had all the power in this relationship, and I had none. But I was going to find a way to tip the scales. I planted my hand on the door, stopping him from closing it. “Wait.”

A smile spread across his face. “Change your mind?”

“No. We…we need to talk.”

He stepped back and let me in. The door shut behind me.

We stood in a large room with a king-sized bed covered in a luxurious, fluffy duvet that looked a thousand times more soft and comfortable than the one on my twin bed in the other room. It practically begged me to lie down on it. Across from it was a huge flat-screen TV, the only one in the Loft. On the other side was a seating area, plus a table and chairs and a mini-fridge. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat on top.

Shit, what was I doing? I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to throw him on that fancy bed and ride him like I’d stolen him. But that was a bad idea. A really, really seductive bad idea.

“So talk, love.” He started unbuttoning his shirt. In front of me. Slowly. Like he wanted me to watch. And at that first flash of skin, all the words I was going to say slipped from my mind.

“Hmm?” he asked.

I forced myself to look away as another button popped open. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

I gestured at him, eyes averted. “Undressing.”

“Just getting comfortable.” He draped his shirt over the back of a chair, and I pointedly did not look at his naked chest. “You’re welcome to stay. We could finish what we started the other night.”