The End Of You And Me | BOOK 1 (Completed) & 2 (Currently Writing)

TEOYAM | 12. Lost In Your Eyes

The week before Fashion Week has always been the busiest time for me every year. Some people have Christmas. Some have Thanksgiving. Some have their birthday week. I have that week before Fashion Week. The week before Fashion Week that February, however, was arguably the busiest time of my life.

On top of my audition for Fashion Week, I had school, family business matters, and three auditions at Juilliard to nail (or at least pass one); not to mention an interview with the Dean which was enough to give me a cardiac arrest. Thank God, I didn't actually have a cardiac arrest.

Did I enjoy the stress?

I did.

Well, at least I thought I would.

"And remember to do the eye thing." Rachel spoke on the other line, like a mother telling her child to look left and right before crossing the street, as I stepped down our limousine. I gave our driver a friendly nod before walking up the staircases, leading to the entrance of Lincoln Center.

New York Fashion Week is held at Lincoln Center twice every year. For the Fall and Winter collection, it is done every February. For the Spring and Summer collection, it is done every September.

"What eye thing?" I asked, pushing the main door open.

I came face to face with twenty or so other people holding brown envelopes and white folders, I'm assuming are their portfolios. Guess I wasn't the only one trying my luck that day.

Every year, glitterattis, socialites and heiresses compete to walk in at least one of the shows because sitting front row is now considered too mainstream. If you sit front row, people automatically assume it's because you didn't get to walk for one of the shows.

I couldn't care any less about that, really.

My reason for auditioning was far from the typical. Walking for just a show wasn't really the issue. I was, after all, walking for one show already: my Uncle Amancio's show-- and yes, my uncle is the talented Amancio Ortega, owner of Zara.

My reason for auditioning for a show, that wasn't even one you'd call in the big leagues, was simply because I wanted to prove to myself that I can get somewhere on my own. You know, without my mom pulling in some strings or people handing me things on a diamond platter all because I'm Veronica Rockefeller. It wasn't so that people will see me different. I don't care about what other they think. It was a matter of affirming within myself that I am capable of going places without people favoring me all the time just because they don't want to cross my family.

That was the main reason why I wanted to walk for Academy of the Arts-- no, let me rephrase that-- that was the only reason why.

"Give them the expressive eyes, Ronnie. Speak through your eyes!"

I could feel the tension rising from the other line. Rachel tends to get carried away when she wants something done, and right now, it's me nailing this audition.

"Okay. Got it, captain." I joked, giving her a salute even if she wasn't in the same vicinity as me.

"Don't mock me, Rockefeller! You wanted this, remember? So you have to do everything in your power to get in that show." She spoke, reminding me of those Generals in army movies. "I still don't understand why you have to audition when you could've just told them who you are and got in with no questions asked. We could've skipped the stress brought by auditioning if you were a little less prideful, Ronnie."

I couldn't help but laugh at her statement, catching the attention of some of the people around me. "It's not pride, Rach. I just wanted to see if I can make it without having my mother making some phone calls. Is that so bad?"