26. Chapter 26
Daria
“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you,” says Paris Dawson, the beauty influencer who’s sponsoring this event.
She’s elegant and beautiful with a touch of down-to-earth loveliness.
She has her long blonde hair swept back in an elaborate braid that swings with each sway of her head, and her denim jumpsuit complements her tall, willowy figure.
How women like her manage to do everything so effortlessly is beyond me, but I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t jealous.
“First of all, I’d like to thank each of you for working so hard on tonight’s show.
I’ve taken peeks at your work and am beyond impressed.
We’re here to celebrate you, the local talent,” she continues, clasping her hands in front of her.
“In honor of that, your designs will not only be showcased for tonight’s fashion show guests, but this event is also being televised. ”
Panic freezes me in place. Televised ?
“And with that”—Paris steps to the side and sweeps her arm in front of the three women standing next to her—“I’d like to introduce you to a few of my fashion agent friends. These women will not only be a part of tonight's judging panel, but they will be scouting for local designers and talent.”
Each new breath I attempt to take seems to evade me. Fashion scouts? Here? To... scout ?
“So even if your designs don’t win you the ten-thousand-dollar prize, they may still earn you an interview with one of our lovely agents.
And my friend, Pauline, will be watching the models specifically.
She’s recruited more than a few of today’s top models and she’s looking for fresh talent.
” Paris smiles wide, clearly pleased with the turnout for the event.
I’m pretty pleased too. Or I would be if fear and anxiety weren’t threatening to kill me on the spot.
“That’s all for now, designers!” Paris claps. “You’ve got twenty minutes until it’s time to start.”
Murmurs float through our group of ten while I book it back to my corner of the room. Briar and Jamie both give me a thumbs up as I hustle over while Dane stands by with an unreadable expression.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” I bend at the waist and brace my hands on my knees.
“Oh, honey,” Briar croons while Jamie pats my back.
“It’s going to be okay,” Jamie says encouragingly. “You’ve got this!”
“Do I?” I ask, straightening. “The local TV stations are here. Fashion agents are here to scout us, potentially interview us.” I press my fist into my stomach. “This is way more than what I signed up for.”
“Exactly.” Dane steps directly into my line of sight. “It’s even more of an opportunity than what you’d hoped it would be when you signed up. That’s a good thing, not a bad one.”
“But we know it’s nerve-wracking,” Jamie says. “I think we’re all a little jittery about being seen by so many people.”
My gaze snags on Dane. He looks anything but jittery, all suave confidence and masculine perfection. When his mouth quirks into a tight-lipped smile, my stomach sinks even lower.
“Yeah. Guess you’re right,” I say to Jamie, still looking at Dane. The air suddenly becomes too thick to breathe again, so I turn to sort through the clothes on the rack. I don’t know what possessed Dane in the bathroom, but that stupid phrase has rung over and over in my mind since I left.
Talk about taking my last name.
I inwardly scoff. How dare he propose something so crazy, so final , at the first real steppingstone toward what I really want—a career in fashion.
Not a husband. Not even a boyfriend.
Not someone to tie me down and force me into a relationship that’ll likely leave me hurting in the end. Dane might be spouting pretty words now, but we haven’t even had our first fight. What happens when all we’re able to spew at each other are harsh words and vitriol-laced accusations?
Leave before you’re left , a voice inside me says.
“Do you have everything you need?” I turn to see Dane hovering close, examining me like he can hear my inner thoughts.
“I do.” I clear my throat. “Just making sure we’ve got the looks sorted out.”
“Briar says you’ve done that three times already.”
I glance back at my friend whose innocent smile is anything but. She and Jamie immediately turn and pretend to be busy with cleaning up our makeup station.
“Fine,” I huff. “Maybe I’ve over-organized things a bit. I just want it all to be perfect.”
“It will be.” Dane’s fingers lightly tangle with mine. A barely there gesture meant to offer comfort while still being discreet. I let my hand linger a second too long, then pull away.
“Briar,” I say, catching her attention. “Are you sure you know what order everything’s supposed to go in?” I don’t miss the way Dane steps back as Briar bustles over.
“Daytime looks first, then business casual, and evening wear is last.”
I nod, mildly appeased. She’s the one who’ll be helping Jamie and Dane get in and out of their outfits. Little curtained cubicles line the back wall, ready for their respective models to change in when the time comes.
“There shouldn’t be a lot you have to do,” I say, eyeing the suit coat I took way too much time on for Dane. “But if something doesn’t fit right, or a zipper gets stuck—”
“D, I got this.” She sets her hands on my shoulders and holds my gaze. “We ran through the routine while you were meeting with Paris. We know what we need to do, and if there are any snags, we’ll work them out. Okay?”
“But what if—”
“Nothing major will happen. Well,” she says with a little laugh. “Nothing majorly bad, anyway. I’m still hoping you win that majorly awesome prize.”
Excitement tugs at the corners of my nervousness, desperately trying to break through. “I hope so too,” I whisper.
“All right,” Jamie says, appearing at our sides. “It’s time for Dane and I to get into our first outfits.”
Dane checks his watch. “She’s right. We’d better go.”
I give a firm nod and press both hands to my riotous midsection. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
My designs are seventh in tonight’s line-up. The way it works is that the categories are shown in order, then each design is numbered one through ten. So every time design seven is seen, no matter the category, the judges will know it’s a Daria Dantez original.
I never would’ve been able to pull off so many looks without taking time off work and using items I’ve previously made.
Most things I made for myself, then had to adjust to fit Jamie, while a couple of the items I had already made exclusively for her.
Dane’s outfits were the ones that took most of my time leading up to tonight.
But he was more than helpful, even learning to stitch buttons on for me.
Thankfully, we were allowed to use certain commercially produced garments, like undershirts, shoes, socks, jewelry, and that sort of thing.
I read over the rules extensively to make sure all my outfits are in compliance, so nothing to worry about there.
But whether they’ll steal the show, being buried near the end of each lineup, remains to be seen.
I don’t get to sit out in the audience and watch, as much as I’d like to.
I’ll be behind the curtain, making sure everything goes off without a hitch.
Parker promised he’d record the entire thing for me.
Pretty sure he just wants video footage of Jamie flaunting her stuff on the runway, but whatever. I’ll take what I can get.
Dane’s parents, his friends, and even some of Jamie’s co-workers are supposed to be seated in the audience at this very moment.
Which doesn’t do anything for my nerves.
I wring my hands together and shift on my feet, waiting for Paris to do the honors and introduce the designers to the crowd of onlookers.
And the TV stations.
And the agents.
“Isn’t this amazing?” the girl behind me asks. Her blue spiky hair and thick glasses set her apart from the rest of the designers.
“Uh, yeah.” I smile. “It is.”
“Nervous?” she asks again. “You look like you’re about to toss your cookies.”
I briefly close my eyes and pray I’m not turning green or some other horrifying color. “I’m okay, but yeah. Nervous.”
“You have no reason to be.” Her voice lowers to something close to a whisper. “I saw your menswear designs and they are fire .”
Something bright sparks in my chest. “Thanks. I really hope you’re right.” I wish I had something complimentary to say to her, but I’ve been so focused on getting everything right tonight, not to mention hiding in the bathroom, that I wouldn’t know which designs were hers.
“Good luck to you,” I say with what I hope is an encouraging smile.
“Thanks, you too.”
Just then, one of the stage coordinators approaches and gestures for the first designer to follow her to the stage. Applause rings out as each designer is introduced, and my unease ratchets higher the closer my time comes.
“You’re up, Miss Dantez.” The coordinator motions for me to follow. I obey, swiping my sweaty palms against the sides of my dress—the little black number I made for myself during a particularly lonely season last year.
Like lightning, everything that’s led me here, to this moment, flashes through my mind. Working long, hard hours at Gail’s, then spending my free time on my own designs, never knowing if anyone but me and my friends would wear them.
Jamie moving on and getting married, forcing me to live with Dane, then the evolution of our relationship. All the encouragement and help he’s offered so I could do what it takes to make this line come together cohesively. Gratefulness and hope well inside me.
But there’s no time to focus on those feelings because Paris announces my name. “Introducing another local designer, Miss Daria Dantez.”
I step onto the stage, my faux confidence fitted into place by my wide smile. I wave to the crowd and stop next to Paris like we were instructed.
“And what inspired your designs tonight, Daria?” Paris asks, just like she asked each person before me.
Up until now, I haven’t known what I would say. I could force out something expected about today’s current trends or dig deep and go philosophical. But with the bright stage lights shining in my eyes, the attention of hundreds of people on me, I discover the truth with startling clarity.
“My friends,” I say to Paris. “They’re all the inspiration I need.”
The beauty influencer grins as she faces the crowd. “Well, we’re excited to see what you’ve brought to life tonight. Thank you for joining us, Daria.”
I give a swift bow before waving to the crowd once more.
It’s then I see the Kents, all lined up in the front row with Parker holding the phone up to his expressive face.
He’s giving me a thumbs up, just like Jamie did earlier.
Logan looks as if he’d rather be anywhere but here, while Alex practically bounces in her seat next to Mr. Kent.
Turning with a smile on my face, I book it backstage and shake the nerves out of my hands.
“How’d it go?” Jamie asks when I reach our corner.
“Good, I think.”
“Did you see Parker?”
My smile is instant. “Of course. He’s recording, just like he said he would.
" Jamie's expression clouds with something like uncertainty as she runs a hand down her bodice. “Hey,” I say, taking her hands in mine. “You’re going to do great. I wouldn’t want anyone else modeling my designs for me tonight.”
She lets out a little laugh. “I still don’t know why you didn’t ask Briar. Her body is perfectly proportioned, while mine is parading around like a pear.”
I smirk and do a turn around her, tucking and straightening as I go. “A very juicy pear that Parker has a particular affinity for.”
“ Stop.” She pretends to swat my hands away.
“Oh please, girl. I’ve seen the way that man stares at your—”
“How do I look?” Dane’s deep voice has us both spinning toward him. Even Jamie's jaw drops a bit when he strikes a pose for us.
“Hang on,” Briar says, appearing at his side, bending to reach for something at his waist. “Looks like you’ve got a loose thread here.”
Jealousy annoyingly nips at my heart as she fiddles with the top of his waistband. It’s stupid and childish and— Stuffing it down, I say, “You look good. Almost like those clothes were made for you.”
His smile curves in a delicious sort of way that has me remembering each and every kiss we’ve shared since his first fitting. “I have a very skilled clothing designer,” he says, taking a deliberate step toward me.
Alarm bells clang loudly in my brain, but I’m hard pressed to heed them. Especially when he eases into my personal bubble. “This designer...” I drop my voice low. “She must be stellar at taking measurements.”
Dane’s smile slips higher as his eyebrows lift and lower suggestively. “She’s stellar at a lot of things.” His deep voice slips over my skin like warm, delicious—
“Um, excuse me.” Both Dane and I whirl to face Jamie, whose hand is perched on her popped hip. “What the heck is going on here?”
It’s then I realize my fingers are lightly splayed across Dane’s stomach. Briar’s partially hiding a smile behind her hand as she tries and fails to not look at us.
“Nothing.” I leap away from the man I will not refer to as my boyfriend, then clap my hands in the air. “All right, guys. Showtime.”