More than Fashion

35

“Yes. A fake relationship for the cameras, just until the end of the show.”

He crossed his arms, flashing his tattoos. “What’s in it for me?”

“Um…” I hadn’t thought that far ahead. The idea had seemed good at the time, and I’d confidently rushed forward without thinking it through. “Wouldn’t you rather I make it to the finale than Nika?”

He gave a lazy shrug. “Sure. But it doesn’t really matter who else is at the finale, since I’m going to win either way.”

God, he was arrogant. I stood taller, looking him in the eye, hands on my hips. “You’re cocky now because you’ve been in the middle or on top every week, but we only have five episodes left, and Dawn, Trina, and Jeff have all won challenges, too. What happens when it’s down to the wire, you against them, and someone has to go home? Dawn and Trina are together, so they’ll be safe. Jeff? He’s a good designer, he was on last season, and he’s an asshole. He’s not going anywhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if the judges are grooming him to win. Are you really that confident you’ll make it into the final three and get to New York Fashion Week?”

It was a big speech, but I needed him more than he needed me. I had to convince him, or I would probably be out next week. And definitely before the finale. As much as I liked Molly, Dawn, and Trina, I wanted to win. Whatever it took.

Gavin stared at the wall for a long minute, and I couldn’t read the expression on his face. I held my breath, waiting to see if he would go for it. If he said no, I didn’t know what I’d do. Find another way to cause drama somehow? I could try to get into a big fight with Nika…

Finally, he uncrossed his arms and met my eyes. “All right, love. I’ll play along with your game. But what happens when we make it to the end and are competing against each other in the final three?”

“Then…I guess we break up.”

He nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. “How do you want to do this?”

“Tomorrow, during the challenge, we should make it obvious we’re interested in each other. Then we can get caught kissing.”

“I’ll make sure to take the same lunch shift as you.”

“Perfect.”

I was tempted to say more, struck with a sudden urge to tell him I wasn’t just using him to stay on the show. Except I was. And why should I feel guilty? I didn’t want to date him. I didn’t even like him. I wanted his body, and that was it. In fact, I should probably set some boundaries so he didn’t get any ideas about this turning real.

“Remember, this is all just pretend,” I said. “I’m not interested in you. At all.”

His eyes narrowed. “Good, because I’m not interested in you either.”

“Good! Because you are the last person I would ever actually date.”

“The feeling is mutual, love.”

Then we were kissing again, a kiss that was as much a battle as it was a caress. Our tongues fought for domination, our hands clawed at each other’s clothes, our bodies strained to touch. My back hit the wall, pressing against some half-wet towels. I barely noticed. His hand was under my shirt, sliding up my skin, and he groaned when he found my bare breasts, my n*****s already hard. He circled each one with his fingertips, and I moaned, tugging at his hair.

I was doing a real shitty job of setting boundaries here.

“Just don’t go falling in love with me,” I got out between kisses. “This is strictly a business arrangement.”

“Not a problem, love.”

“And stop calling me that!”

“Whatever you want, Julie.”

But my name on his lips, with his accent, felt far too intimate. I changed my mind—it was better when he called me anything but that. I pushed him away before this could go any further.

“Tomorrow,” I said and left the room.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The sixth challenge was perfect for me. We were taken up onto the roof of the building, where we had a 360-degree view of New York. The rooftop patio had a few potted plants and some comfy couches and chairs, creating a relaxing outdoor lounge. I’d been out there a few times before to sunbathe and get some fresh air on the rare occasions we had a few spare minutes that weren’t spent sleeping or eating or designing.

Once there, Lola gave us our challenge: to make a functional, real-life superhero costume. The catch? We only had eight hours to do it. Yep, another speed challenge. That wouldn’t be a problem for me though. I’d already designed a ton of superhero clothes—that’s how I’d won my spot on the show, after all. It made me wonder if they’d chosen this challenge just for me because they’d told me to tone down the costumey elements. Were they were trying to set me up to fail? Either way, it was time to put my new plan into action. In the fabric room, I made sure to ask Gavin to help me get a bolt down in front of Derrick and Nika, since they were big gossips.

“Please, Gavin,” I said, batting my lashes and putting my hand on his tattooed forearm. “Help a girl out?”

“Anything for you, love,” he said. “I know it’s tough to get things down with those baby T-rex arms.”

He stretched up to get the bolt, and his shirt rode up, exposing a patch of skin along his stomach. His jeans were low, showing off his hips, the very tops of his boxer briefs teasing me. Thoughts of him without those jeans on flooded my mind, but I pushed them away. I had to stay on task.