24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

“You got a glow about you.” The corners of Michael’s mouth are pulled into a mischievous grin as he turns to look at me.

“What are you talking about?” I try to hide my own smile in my cup.

“Who you been fucking?” He practically laughs the words, his one eyebrow quirked in a question.

“Who says it has to do with sex? Maybe it’s just the makeup.”

Laurie smiles at this, knowing it’s not just the makeup she did.

“Come on, tell me,” Michael prompts, poking me with his finger.

“You going to tell me what is going on with you and Priyanka?” I turn in my seat and stare him down, the challenge clear in my eyes. That’s enough to shut him up as he looks back towards the mirror.

Mira comes into the room just then, garment bags in her hand. We are on location again, and the expectation is that we get changed in this room. She doesn’t make eye contact with me, opting to look solely at Michael.

The last few times we have been alone together has resulted in this same icy quiet. Michael seems to sense something between us, because his eyes dart back and forth between our faces. Putting the bags on the hooks, Mira turns and leaves without a word.

The sigh that escapes me is full of all the unsaid things I’ve been pushing to the back of my mind.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

Even though I’ve told him about our friendship over the many times we’ve gotten drinks, I still can’t bring myself to explain everything that has happened.

“Nothing to talk about.” My voice quakes as I speak, making it very clear that there is something, but he respects my boundaries. I don’t want to ruin Laurie’s efforts, so I don’t let myself dwell on it. I choose instead to head back to the set, ready to channel all this emotion into this next scene.

It seems to work, because this is the least amount of takes we have ever had to do. When it is said and done, I get changed, prepared to put all this behind me. Just as I finish, I hear a knock.

“Yeah?”

Errol walks in, a huge grin on his face. He locks the door, secluding us in the makeup trailer.

“Well, hello there,” I say, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“What are you doing tonight?” Rocking on his toes like he can’t contain his words.

“Nothing. Why?”

“I want to take you on a date.”

When we decided to be a secret, dates didn’t seem like a possibility to me. I must look skeptical, because he laughs before stepping out of my grip.

“Don’t worry, just be ready for ten.” He gives me a wink before walking back out. Despite the fact that I think this is a bad idea, I can’t help my giddy excitement.

When we pull up outside a bunch of warehouses, my first thought is that he’s going to murder me. These last few months have all been a ploy to get me to trust him, so that he can finally get me back for pissing him off. It’s irrational and based on nothing, but the sketch location and the wide smile he has sets me on edge.

“I think I forgot to turn my stove off.” I clutch my seat-belt, refusing to get out. “Best we turn back.”

This only makes him smile more. Unbuckling for me, he hops out to come around and open my door. When I step outside, I see he has a black cloth in his hand.

“Turn around.” He holds it up.

“Why?” Skepticism paints the lines of my face that make up my frown. It isn’t enough to deter him as he continues on, like this is a great idea.

“Do you trust me?”

“No,” I say instantly.

He laughs out loud and crosses his arms, one eyebrow lifting. The pure humor he is finding in this is enough to shake me out of my stupid fear.

I exhale my worried thoughts and inhale some common sense. “Yes, I trust you.” I try to push my lips into a smile.

He gestures for me to turn around.

“But I would just like it noted that this is the start of a horror movie, and we are the characters who get killed before anyone even realizes there is a psycho on the loose.”

“Black people don’t get killed first in scary movies anymore.”

“No, but stupid people do.”

He wraps the cloth around my eyes, blocking my view.

He takes my hand and leads me in the direction of what I think is one of the warehouses. I hear the jingle of keys, and then the soft click of a door being unlocked. He pulls me along, my feet moving hesitantly, like I’m in one of those mirror mazes. When he stops and lets go, I wait patiently for what feels like forever, before worry starts to set in again.

“Errol?”

He doesn’t reply, and I find myself turning around like that will make a difference.

“This isn’t funny.”

Yet I hear him laugh.

Fuck it. I pull the blindfold off my eyes and blink, trying to adjust to the sudden light. When things come into focus, I see ten beautiful outfits lined up on mannequins. The one that catches my eye first is a cottage-core pink tulle babydoll dress with a corset top and puffy sleeves.

Stepping closer, I notice Renaissance art is the pattern of the fabric in a light, almost indistinguishable color.

“What is this?” I ask, my heart tripping over itself trying to react to the last five minutes.

“This is Dahlia Parker’s new summer collection called Herstory.”

He gestures around, and I’m finally able to take my eyes off the first look. All the pieces are in cohesion with each other, while being entirely unique. They move between looks inspired by the sixteenth century, to ones patterned with the artwork of that period.

“It’s amazing.” I barely stop myself from reaching out to touch a pair of brown leather pants with patches of canvas with the Birth of Venus painted on it.

“It gets better.” Coming over, he grabs my hand.

“I don’t know how that’s possible.” I turn to take in a dress of cerulean and turquoise with silver embellishments that seems like it could fit me. Hell, half these outfits look like they can fit me, making me feel flutters of awe that usually thrum through me when I am faced with inclusive and dynamic fashion.

“Well, choose.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean pick a look and it’s yours. Delilah will custom fit it to you, and you will get to take it home after the launch fashion show.”

“Are you serious?” I ask, trying to keep my smile from stretching off my face. For the first time since entering this room, I look into his eyes. The smile crinkling the corners is full of the same amount of joy currently building in my chest. To see him so happy to do something just for me, without any gain for himself, has my heart swelling to make more space for him.

“I personally think you would look stunning in any of them, but I’m hoping you choose something you can wear to the movie premiere.”

With that in mind, I look a little closer at all the choices. What could possibly be our first public appearance together will definitely be my opportunity to showcase my talent. I need something just right for that.

The first dress that piqued my interest is adorable, but seems more fitting for a teen awards show. I need a showstopper that will highlight all my curves.

Walking around, I stop just short of the dark horse in the entire collection. It’s striking color and tight fit is exactly what I’m looking for.

“This one,” I say, and he nods, texting my answer to the designer.

When I think we’re going to leave, there’s a knock at the door. Errol answers and returns with food and a bottle of wine.

“This is the best first date of my life,” I say.

We settle into a work table far away from the clothes and dig in. Having been swept up into this role, I almost forgot about my first passion. Seeing a new collection before it hits the streets is reigniting that flame.

“Well, I know we can’t do a lot of public stuff as a couple, but I didn’t want you to think that what we can do isn’t going to be as memorable.”

He takes a sip from the bottle and then passes it to me. The lack of glasses reminds me of my days in Paris, when Mira and I would sit in our tiny apartment and drink out of coffee mugs. The memory makes my heart twinge a little.

“I feel like I have to do something special for you now.” I trail my fingers across his chin, pulling him in closer for a kiss.

“I won’t say no to that.”

I push him back, laughing.

“You’re supposed to say something corny, like me being in your life is special enough.” I pour more wine down my throat.

“Why does the man always have to do the grand gestures? You know most men get flowers for the first time at their funerals?”

“Yeah, yeah, I saw the meme.”

“Just because it’s an internet quip doesn’t make it any less true.” He points a finger at me, the frown the most serious I have seen him all night.

“Okay, Errol, what is your favorite flower, so I know?”

He smirks, and one dimple shows.

“I don’t like flowers.”

I am ready to hit him when he bursts out in laughter, falling back in his chair.

“Oh my god, you are so annoying.”

“Okay, okay, I honestly would be happy if you just surprised me with a coffee, or showed up at my house to cook me a meal.” He reaches for my hand, wrapping it in his.

“I can do that and more. All jokes aside, I want to make you feel as special as you make me feel.”

His face lights up.

“You already do.” He kisses my wrist.

“There we go! That’s the shit I’m talking about.”

We both laugh, curling into one another.

Passing the bottle back and forth until it is empty, we sit and talk until the sun starts to rise. Only when we have drunk in enough of each other that we are full do we leave to go home.

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