Chapter 4
I’m surprisingly not dreading my shopping trip with Vivian when Sunday comes around. The last few days, my thoughts have strayed to the perky stylist with the easy smile and ridiculous hair the color of red Kool-Aid more times than I can count.
I’d think a person who wears contacts that turn their eyes purple must do it for attention. I hate attention seekers. But she didn’t seem desperate for my attention. She didn’t flirt with me or try to finagle a date with me. She hasn’t even texted me beyond giving me a meeting time for today. That’s not normal for most women who have my number.
Despite her young age, she showed a maturity that contradicted her extreme fashion choices. It was in her confidence. And in her intelligence. Her ability to take control of a situation. Normally, I’m the one in charge wherever I go, but when I was huffing around, admittedly like a cranky diva, she’d steamrolled me into doing exactly what she wanted. And she’d done it without me even noticing until after she’d left my apartment. It took me a while to realize I’d been thoroughly handled.
I was impressed, and now I’m curious.
Vivian asks me to meet her at the Beverly Center. It’s a smart choice. Upscale without being so pretentious that you need an appointment to shop there. But it’s huge, and it doesn’t bode well for me that she asked to meet as soon as the doors open.
I brace myself as I enter the building. It feels like I’m marching into battle. What does it say about me that I’m looking forward to going head-to-head with the woman?
I spot Vivian before she sees me. She’s standing in front of a woman’s clothing store studying the mannequins in the window. Her head is cocked to one side, and she holds up her phone to take a picture of the display. I don’t understand the fascination with clothing, but it’s clear she’s very focused, and there’s something enticing about seeing her in her element.
She’s wearing long white pants with strappy sandals and a royal blue top that has off-the-shoulder puffy sleeves. The shirt is loose up top but tight through the waist, showing off her slender frame, and her slacks hug her backside in a very flattering manner. I don’t feel bad for checking out her ass. It’s only fair after she looked her fill while I was in my underwear the other day.
Her hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, showing off her long neck and bare shoulders. It makes me want to taste the skin where her neck meets her shoulder. The sudden desire surprises me. I recognized that she was pretty the other day, but I didn’t realize I was this attracted to her. I should keep my distance. Instead, I slip up behind her and duck my lips close to her ear. “I’m not trying that on,” I murmur.
Vivian nearly jumps out of her skin, shrieking in surprise. She whirls around, smacking me in the face with her ponytail, and I get a whiff of a light, floral scent. Unlike her bright, bold outfit, the perfume is subtle, drawing me in when I should be stepping back.
When she realizes it’s me, she clutches at her chest as if to keep her heart in place. ”Sebastian! You scared me!”
I reach for her without thinking, lightly gripping her arm for no other reason than I want the physical contact. “Sorry,” I say, even though I’m not.
I step back, glance around at all the shops, and grimace. I may not be dreading spending the day with Vivian, but the shopping part might kill me.
Vivian laughs. “Don’t look so tortured. It’ll be painless,” she says.
I eye the mannequin in the window. “Doubtful.”
My mood has no effect on hers. She chuckles. “Fine. You’re going to hate it. But at least you’ll have a fantastic wardrobe when we’re done. Come on.” She nods her head toward a department store. “Let’s start there. I came yesterday to get an idea of what’s here.”
She heads for the store, and I trail behind her slowly, trying to delay the inevitable. When we reach the men’s section, I frown at a table of graphic T-shirts. “I’m not letting you dress me like some douchey frat boy.”
She’s already pulling shirts off racks, but she cuts me an amused glance. “Well, shoot. There goes that idea. I guess I’ll have to go with my backup plan. How do you feel about the boy band look?”
For a split second, I’m horrified even though I know she’s kidding. It’s funny, and I appreciate the banter—no one but my sister ever dares tease me—but now that I’m standing in a sea of clothes, the stress of what I’m about to do hits me. “This isn’t a joke. You were right about my image being important. I can’t go on national television looking like some wannabe trendy asshole who thinks he’s still in his twenties.”
Vivian stops her browsing and looks at me. Her teasing smile slips. “Have a little faith. I’m not going to make you look bad. That would put my own reputation on the line. This job is a big deal for me. I don’t want to screw it up.”
I study her for a long minute. She seems sincere, but I don’t like that my reputation is in her hands. “I’m sorry. It’s hard to trust someone a decade younger than me with hair the color of Kool-Aid and faerie eyes.”
I regret the words the instant they tumble out of my mouth. I didn’t mean to be so insulting; I’m just stressed and legitimately concerned that she’s going to try to dress me like some high-fashion Hollywood type. She’s young. Hip. Her style is bold. It has flair. I need to stay conservative.
Her face goes through an entire spectrum of emotions from shock to rage and, worst of all, hurt before it closes down and goes carefully blank. The easy smile is gone, and I doubt it’s coming back. She’s thrown up a wall. When she speaks, her voice is low and controlled. But I can hear the angry undertones. “I know how to do my job. I’m good at it. No matter how young I am or what you think about my personal style, I am fully aware that you are not me. I’m not going to dress you as if you are.”
She thrusts a pile of clothes at me. “Start with these. I’d like you to show me everything before you take it off, but if there’s anything that offends you, we’ll toss it. You should feel comfortable and confident in everything you wear.”
With that, she turns away from me—a clear dismissal—and goes back to sifting through racks.
I stand there, a pile of clothes in my arms, watching her and feeling helpless. I want to apologize. I feel like a giant jerk. But what can I possibly say to make things right? The damage is done. I already hurt her feelings. I probably pricked at her self-esteem, too. She’s not just going to forget what I said and forgive me. I try anyway. “I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I didn’t mean to?—”
She holds up a hand, cutting me off but not looking at me. “You were honest, and you have a right to question me. You haven’t seen my résumé or portfolio. I wouldn’t want to trust a stranger, either. But that’s why you’re here with me. You have final say. Work with me, and we’ll find your style.”
I stand there a minute longer, but she doesn’t say anything more and she never looks my way. I really screwed up.
After a couple of tense hours, Vivian starts to relax, but her warmth never returns. She keeps a cool professionalism that’s disappointing and makes me feel guilty as hell. I want the happy, spunky woman willing to banter with me back. I only feel worse when she does an excellent job with my wardrobe. She’s got great taste and really does know what she’s doing. I shouldn’t have judged her so harshly.
We’ve hit a dozen stores and bought enough clothes to fill my giant closet when my stomach decides it’s going to eat itself if I don’t feed it soon. Vivian left me to go pay for my purchases, claiming she needed to answer a text. I spend the next few minutes trying to figure out the best way to ask her to dinner that won’t make her want to stab me. I find her on a bench outside the store with her phone in her hands, but she’s not using it. Her focus is on a group of teenage girls standing in front of a formal dress store. Two of them look average, while the other three are polished to perfection. I don’t see what’s so fascinating about them.
“Hey,” I say when I reach Vivian.
She waves me off and shushes me. I turn my attention to the girls she’s eavesdropping on just in time to hear one of the pretty girls say, “It doesn’t matter what you try on. You’re not going to find a dress that hides your fat.”
My jaw falls slack. I know kids can be cruel, but that was brutal. The evil girls cackle and walk away, leaving the two average girls glaring after them. A heavyset one has tears streaming down her face. Vivian jumps off the bench and approaches the girls with a look full of compassion and determination. “Hi,” she says to them. She looks at the window full of gowns. “Are you girls looking for prom dresses?”
The heavyset girl swipes at her wet cheeks and looks forlornly at a slinky green dress. “Not having much luck. Nothing looks good on me.”
Vivian smiles at the girl. “I’m sure that’s not true. The perfect dress is waiting for you; you just have to know what to look for.”
The heavy girl gives Vivian a dubious look. Vivian smiles right through it. “I’m a fashion designer, and I have an obsession with formal gowns. You mind if I look at a few dresses with you?”
The girls exchange a look, and the one in tears swallows. “You would really help me?”
“There’s nothing I love more than playing dress-up.” She jerks her head my direction and says, “Just ask him. He’s been my victim all day. He could probably use a break, and between you and me, boys aren’t as much fun to dress.”
The two girls look my way, no doubt taking in the dozens of shopping bags around me. When they look back at Vivian, they nod shyly, and Vivian calls over to me. “I’ll be back in a few.”
Vivian? In a dress shop? I highly doubt this is going to be a quick detour, but I don’t complain. Not when those girls look so hopeful. I wave her off and pull out my phone, but after fifteen minutes, I’m curious, so I gather up my bags and wander into the store. I find Vivian waiting by the dressing rooms. “Sorry,” she says when I approach. “I know you’re a busy man, but I couldn’t ignore this. I won’t be much longer.”
“Promise me we’ll find food after this, and we’ll call it even.”
That earns me a smile. The first one since I stuck my foot in my mouth earlier.
Before she can respond, the two teens come out of the dressing rooms, each wearing gowns. The tall, skinny girl is wearing a form-fitting dress with a slit to her thigh that her father will probably find concerning. The heavier girl is wearing a flowy dress that gathers beneath her bust and drapes delicately over her figure to the floor. Both dresses are very flattering, and the girls must agree because they look in the full-length mirrors together and start gasping and squeaking. The one who’d been bullied for her weight is crying again, but this time they’re happy tears. Vivian walks up behind her and places her hands on the girl’s shoulders, studying the girl in the mirror. “This is the one,” she says.
The girl nods, smiling through her tears.
“Just remember, it’s the girl who makes the dress, not the other way around. Clothes only complement what’s already there. You’re beautiful, and as long as you believe it, others will see it too.”
She turns the girl around and taps her under the chin, forcing her to hold her head high. The girl pulls her shoulders back and stands with confidence that I wouldn’t have thought her capable of. Vivian smiles at her. “Your date’s not going to know what hit him.”
The girl bursts with this giggle that’s also a sob, and her eyes well up again. She throws her arms around Vivian. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
Vivian hugs her back. “You’re welcome. Have fun accessorizing.” She points first at the tall girl, then the heavy girl. “Sassy stilettos for you, and strappy wedges for you.”
The girls nod vigorously, with hero worship in their eyes. Vivian is still smiling when we leave the store.
We find a nice Italian restaurant with a bit of ambiance and settle into a booth across from each other. Vivian is much more relaxed now and smiling to herself. I don’t think it’s that she’s pleased with herself; it’s not a smug or cocky smile. I think it just made her happy to help that girl.
I study Vivian as she looks over her menu. It was a very kind, compassionate thing she did, and she didn’t do it for praise or money or anything else. Call me jaded, but I didn’t think people ever did things out of the goodness of their hearts. It’s admirable.
“You did a really nice thing back there.”
Vivian shrugs. “It was fifteen minutes of my time.”
“And it meant the world to that girl.”
She smiles into her menu before setting it down and meeting my eyes. “People have enough insecurities without others tearing them down. We need all the help we can get. I know you don’t really care about fashion, but clothes can make a person feel bold, sassy, or beautiful. The right outfit can be empowering. I love watching people look in the mirror and get that small boost of confidence. I like knowing the clothes I create will one day make a difference in someone’s life. Maybe it won’t be a huge difference, but if I can help someone feel good about themselves even for just one day, or one dance, then that’s enough for me.”
For a moment, I just look at her. She’s not what I expected. Her passion is sexy, and she’s beautiful inside and out.
We eat our dinner in comfortable silence. I’m not great at small talk, and I really don’t want to stick my foot in my mouth again when Vivian seems to finally not be mad at me anymore. When we’re done, I walk Vivian to her car and help her load the dozens of bags into her back seat. She still has to take it all back to the studio and get it sorted to be ready for filming in the morning. After it’s all packed in, there’s a moment where I don’t know how to say good-bye. This wasn’t a date, but suddenly I wish it was.
I meet plenty of beautiful women who are more than happy to throw themselves at me. I’ll admit that I indulge myself every now and then, just because it’s easy. I’m not a saint. But it’s rare I’m genuinely interested in a woman. If I weren’t committed to this show, I’d ask her out. But the contract is already signed. No going back.
Vivian opens her door to get in her car, but I’m still just awkwardly standing there, not ready to let her go. She lifts her eyebrows at me like What are you still doing here? I clear my throat. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Get a good night’s sleep. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”
I grimace. I don’t think sleep is going to save me this time.