7. Violet
VIOLET
Tuesday afternoon, Dahlia and I walk across campus to our fashion design class. It’s my last and most favorite class of the day.
“There’s a basketball game tonight,” she says as we pass a group of girls in blue Valley U T-shirts cut to show off their midriffs.
I hum a short sound of annoyance. It’s almost impossible to be oblivious to the happenings of the basketball team. Their games are widely attended; even last year, it was standing room only when their record wasn’t great. This year, they’re winning a lot and the excitement level is hard to ignore.
Dahlia bumps my hip with hers. “Tell me the part again about how you made him check the tent for a wild animal.”
I cringe. When Daisy and I got back Sunday, we spent a lazy evening chilling with our roommates, Dahlia and Jane, and of course, Gavin showing up and crashing our weekend was a hot topic. “It was so embarrassing.”
“Yes, maybe, but he did it. He still likes you.”
Her words, however ridiculous, still spread a rush of heat down my neck. “Oh, please. Did you not hear the part where he went off with two girls we met at the ski lodge?”
“I heard it all six times you mentioned it,” she says as she lifts a brow in challenge.
Okay, so I might be a little stuck on that.
Not because I think he’s doing anything wrong by hooking up with whomever he wants, but because it annoys me just a teensy tiny bit how easily he seems to go from one girl to the next.
It reminds me of how quickly he moved on from me, and that is a wound that hasn’t quite healed.
We get to class and take our seats as Professor Richards walks in.
“Good afternoon,” she says, and sets her Marc Jacobs purse on the desk she never uses.
She prefers to pace the front of the room in her designer outfits and stilettos, basically using our classroom as her personal runway.
Her short, grey hair is styled to perfection, as usual, and her lips are a classic red.
She worked as a buyer for several luxury stores in Beverly Hills before retiring and moving here.
I love her eye for fashion. A lot of people that work in the business don’t live it themselves.
They hide behind store bought cotton tees while designing or working with these gorgeous creations.
Even though there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just always struck me as unusual.
I’m sort of somewhere in the middle. I love to create historical pieces, gowns, corsets, long-flowing skirts, etc.
I do break out my designs on special occasions or, more often, for a fun night in with my roommates, but for every day, I’m much more practical.
But not Professor Richards. I think she’d rather die than be seen in a T-shirt. She wears mostly dresses, sometimes fierce pantsuits. She’s sort of my idol.
“I have been approached about a unique, and frankly unprecedented, opportunity for this class.” She stops pacing and faces us. “A friend of mine is a stylist for a well-known actress and singer. You might have heard of her, Penelope Hart?”
She cracks a grin at the collective gasp heard around the room.
Dahlia and I share an excited smile, and she mouths, “No way!”
“Penelope is about to go on a summer tour. The winning design will be the showcase piece?—”
I don’t hear anything else she says. My mind races with possibilities and visions of Penelope wearing one of my creations. The fact that she’s always on the best-dressed lists, and designers fight to have her wear them on the red carpet makes this is an opportunity I could only dream about.
Goosebumps dot my arms and excitement flows through me in waves. Exhilaration, followed by adrenaline, and then panic. I have to win.
Dahlia moves her chair closer. “I can’t believe this.”
The room is buzzing with chatter as everyone gets to work.
“I think I blacked out. Are there any limitations or guidelines on what we can create?”
Dahlia shakes her head. “No, but she said to keep in mind that it will be on stage and she needs to be able to walk, possibly dance, in it.”
“And what is our deadline?”
My friend laughs. “You really did black out. Mid-April.”
“Oh my gosh, that is no time at all.”
“For something like this, I agree. Designs are due as soon as we come back from spring break, so really, we only have this week, unless you want to spend your vacation doing homework.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I have to win this. Can you imagine?”
“I can’t,” she says. “You’re really going to stay here over break to work on this?”
I nod. “I was only planning on going home. My parents will understand.”
“Jane and I already booked our hotel at the beach.”
“Maybe you’ll get some inspiration while sipping umbrella drinks and watching the waves.”
“I hope so. This is way out of my comfort zone.”
Dahlia and I might both be fashion design majors, but our style is night and day.
Literally. She’s all about daywear. Comfort meets fashion.
I have no doubt that, someday, she’s going to be revolutionizing the basic T-shirt and charging like two hundred dollars apiece.
Or maybe she’ll combine her love of golf and fashion and do athletic wear.
Whatever she does, it’s going to be amazing.
But I understand her hesitancy with this assignment.
“I think you could do a really amazing jumpsuit or skirt and blouse combo that would knock her socks off. You understand the movement of clothes when being active better than most of us. Channel that.”
She smiles and taps her pencil on the table. “That gives me an idea.”
While Dahlia gets to sketching, I get lost in possibilities. I pull out my phone and type in Penelope Hart. Hundreds of images pop up from her red carpet appearances, her social media, and her magazine cover shoots.
As we near the end of the hour, Professor Richards comes around to check on each of us. When she gets to me, she glances at the blank page before me.
“I don’t know which direction to go,” I say. “She’s never worn anything like the Victorian era gowns I like to make.”
“There’s a first for everything.”
“She wears a lot of bold colors, which isn’t really what I do either.”
“You’ve done your homework and that’s great, Violet, but I would focus less on what she has worn and more on the present.”
I chew on the corner of my lip. “You mean like current trends?”
“That and her latest album. What’s it about? What is she trying to say? Who is she?”
My brain feels like it’s going to explode.
Professor Richards continues, “What type of garments might she want to wear to represent the theme of the tour?”
“I haven’t listened to it,” I admit. I know a couple of her songs. They’re what my mom would call angry girl music. Penelope sings a lot about heartache, unrequited love, breakups, and standing on your own. She captures teenage angst like none other.
“I’d start there.”
After class, Dahlia and I rush back to the house.
Jane and Daisy are in the living room. I already texted them the news on my way back because I have zero chill.
I fling my backpack on the couch and stand in the middle of the living room as I tell them every detail of the assignment, Dahlia filling in the parts where I blacked out.
“What kind of outfit are you going to design?” Daisy asks both of us.
Dahlia shakes her head. “No clue.”
“No idea either. I need to listen to her latest album, maybe see if there’s a set list for her tour, so I can get a vibe on the songs she typically closes the show with. I have so much to do. Should we order takeout tonight?”
My friends share a look.
“What?”
“We’re going out tonight,” Daisy says.
I start to object, but then try to remember the last time my cousin suggested a girls’ night.
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Jane is singing at The Hideout.”
“What?!” Dahlia and I exclaim in unison.
Jane beams from ear to ear. “Eric’s band has a gig there and Mackenzie has a bad head cold, so I’m only filling in.”
Although Jane is a music major, she rarely sings in public. I’ve heard her belt it out in the shower though, and I know she’s great.
“Congratulations. This is amazing. Yes, of course I will be there. Maybe you could shake it a bit, give me some ideas for my design.”
“Oh, you know it. Penelope doesn’t have anything on me.”
The Hideout is already packed when Dahlia, Daisy, and I get there. Jane came early with the band to warm up.
“There’s Jordan,” Daisy says, and takes off to the table he has saved for us.
It’s a good thing he did because they’ve removed a lot of the tables and chairs on one side to make room for the band and it’s standing room only.
I dressed up tonight, feeling inspired by Penelope, and Jane’s big night, and these heels were not made for standing.
I laugh when I spot Jane. She’s rocking a tight spandex dress and gold heels. The heels match big, gold hoops in her ears, and her hair is in a high ponytail.
“Holy crap, she looks stupid hot,” I say as we take our seats.
“You are not the only one that noticed.” Dahlia points to a group of guys standing at the bar, openly checking her out.
The only people that aren’t staring at her, are the ones watching the basketball game.
I make the mistake of glancing at the large flatscreen behind the bar, just as the camera pans to Gavin standing at the free throw line.
His chest rises and falls as he catches his breath, sweat making his dark hair stick to his forehead.
He pulls off sweaty jock better than I’d like to admit.
The ref bounces him the ball, and he cradles it in his giant palms while staring up at the hoop.
I look away before he shoots, but the applause in the bar tells me everything I need to know.
The band starts up soon after, and I forget all about Gavin and the game. Mostly.
Jane is amazing. Eric’s band does mostly nineties covers, and her voice is perfect.
Honestly, I’ve only heard Mackenzie once and she’s not bad, but Jane brings the house down.
People are singing along, clapping after every song, dropping tips in a guitar case in front of her; they’re completely captivated by our friend.
It’s more than an hour into their set, during a No Doubt cover, that I get an idea for a sketch. I don’t have a pad of paper, so I go up to the bar and grab a stack of napkins. A server lets me borrow a pen.
While Jane sings, I sketch. It takes several tries to get the idea in my head down on the napkin, but even when I do, something still isn’t right. I hate when that happens. I see it so clearly in my head, but on paper, it just isn’t working.
Several songs later, I ball up the napkin and toss it to the empty spot next to me. Daisy and Jordan disappeared up to the bar for more drinks and Dahlia ran outside for a phone call from her mom.
“Let me guess, some guy had the audacity to give you his number.” Gavin pulls out the chair next to me and sits.
He smells like soap and his hair is combed back neatly, no longer sweaty or stuck to his forehead like on the TV.
“What?” I ask, a little dumbstruck. I truly loathe the effect he has on me.
He lifts the napkin in two long fingers and starts to unfold it.
“Not a number,” I say as I grab it. “I was working on a design.”
He nods.
A guy passes him and offers congratulations. Then another.
“I guess that means the team won?”
“You didn’t watch?”
“No, I was here.”
His gaze flits to all the TVs around the bar.
“I was here for Jane,” I clarify.
“I heard she was singing tonight.”
Jenkins and Noah take seats across from us.
“Hey, Violet,” Jenkins says.
“Hey.” I wave.
Noah smiles but doesn’t speak. I think my table just got taken over by the jocks. Figures.
“I think I’m gonna get another drink.” I stand and walk to the bar.
Daisy is standing between Jordan’s legs and he has both arms wrapped around her waist.
“How much longer do you think they’ll play?” I ask and nod toward Jane.
“She’s been going for a long time,” Daisy says. “Probably not much longer. Why?”
“I’m anxious to work on my design.”
“And to get away from a certain basketball player,” Jordan adds, grinning and looking past me to where Gavin sits.
“Yes, that too. They waltzed in and took over our table.”
“I, uh, told Gavin I was saving a spot for them.” He manages to look apologetic and amused at the same time. “You know, because it’s so crowded.”
“Right.” Why did Daisy have to fall for a jock?
My cousin gives me a pitying smile and then stands straighter and mumbles, “Incoming.”
I feel him behind me before he speaks to the bartender over me. “Can I get a Corona Extra?”
Reluctantly, I take a step to the side to let him into the circle.
“Congrats on the win,” Jordan says, and then tells the bartender to put the beer on his tab.
“Thanks. When do you guys play next?”
“Thursday, away game in New Mexico.” Jordan smiles. “I love this time of year. Eat, sleep, hockey.”
Daisy turns to stare at him.
“And kiss my hot girlfriend, of course.” He takes her mouth as if to prove the point.
They get lost in each other, which happens often. Gavin gets his beer, and we stand awkwardly next to each other. People are looking at us, more specifically him. He’s a big deal on campus: likeable, talented, and a little intimidating—the perfect mixture for jock royalty.
Gavin takes a step closer to me. “Hey, uh, is Jane dating anyone?”
Anger pricks up my spine. “Jane, as in my roommate?”
“As in the girl singing ten feet away.” He gives me a weird look.
Oh my god. I can’t believe him. The audacity. Hooking up with my ex-roommate and ex-friend Bailey wasn’t enough for him? Now he wants to go out with Jane?! Is he going to work his way through everyone close to me?
I wish it didn’t hurt every time he finds a new way to crush my heart, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t make myself immune to him.
“No, she’s single, but don’t even think about it. Stay away from me and my roommates,” I say, and then turn on my heel, moving as far away from him as possible.