If he really loves you, he wouldn't put himself in a position to lose you.
We spent the whole night working on the collection. Thankfully we finished, thanks to Peter's music. I had left a slightest bit earlier than I would usually leave, telling Peter to feed Snow when she wakes up. Ugh, now I've got to go and present the collect to Helen, my manager and owner of Preston's Clothing line. A billion dollar clothing line.
"Come on in." Alyssa, Helen's assistant calls out for me to enter her office. I step in, the cold AC slapping me. Gee, I'm so smart for wearing a pencil skirt, black two inch heels, and a collared tuck in shirt. It's freezing in here that Jack had probably died of this temperature.
"Blair, my favorite designer! What do you have for me?" Helen rushes over, sitting me down on her luscious imported leather chair.
I pull out my binder from my bag, the collection completely in it. "The spring collection. All in there." I hand Helen the binder. After a few minutes of her just flipping through the pages with a straight, dead face, I couldn't say for sure I had anxiety.
"I love it. When can you come into the studio?" Helen sets the binder down and sips her black coffee. "Uh, I'm free basically all the time." I say and Helen laughs. She's like the human Cruella De Vil, I swear.
"Great. That means you're free right now. So stand up, brush that dirt off your skirt and follow me." Helen stands up, exiting the room. I quickly follow her, rubbing on my skirt. "Wait, where are we going exactly?" I ask Helen who shushes me.
"Darling, we're going to my workshop. I'll assign you a model to work with, then I'll just pin up your designs so the sewers can sew. Got it?"
I nod, looking at the vast majorities of models standing before me. All are skinny to the bone, half blonde, and got a mask of makeup on. I walk up to each one of them, looking for the most natural beauty. "What's your name?" I smile at the girl toward the end who seems to have been fiddling with her fingers the whole time.
"Emily." She answers back with a shy voice. I gently place my hand on her shoulder then turn to Helen. "I pick her as my model."
"This is so fun! I mean I never get picked for anything like for seventh grade, PE I never got picked first." Emily is giddy about me picking her. I laugh, turning the doorknob on my apartment door. "So this is where I live." I let Emily in first.
Peter is obviously stunned that a girl is in the same room as us, but none the less, Peter has his eyes on his guitar. "That's Peter. My roommate." I pat Peter's head which he begins laughing. "Don't touch my hair. Hi, I'm Peter. And you are?" Peter stands up, putting away his guitar.
"Emily. Emily Upperton." She smiles, sitting besides Peter. "So you play?" She asks him, handing him his guitar. Peter smiles sheepishly, taking the guitar into his hands.
"Yes he does, he's actually a song writer too. Why don't you play her a song?" I smirk, encouraging Peter to play. And mostly because he seems to like Emily. "Maybe one of your newer ones?"
Emily left an hour ago, me and Peter sitting on the couch eating the cold, left over pizza. "She was cute." Peter mutters, hitting the tv trying to get the Disney Channel on. "Aw, do I smell romance in the air?" I tease, Snow climbing onto my lap. Peter sits back down, the tv still staticky but see-able.
"No all I smell is the pizza. It's definitely not romance." Peter chuckles, wiping his greasy hands with a napkin. "Oh yeah, I heard you're getting paid a lot for the collection." I nod, I do if the collection actually gets sold.
"Definitely going to move out of this apartment and move up hill, away from all this crime." I lay back into the couch, smiling of just me and Snow happily sipping tea. Oh how I missed tea. "I'll pitch in. Today, while playing at Central Park, I made six dollars." Peter smiles, digging out his wallet.
I laugh lightly kicking his thigh, "I promise. If I can afford to live in the upper east side, I'll make you a star. The world deserves to hear your voice. It's made to be heard around the world."
And I swear, I saw him turn away with a slight tinge of red on his cheeks.
YOU ARE READING
The French GirlRomance
"Blair, I love you more than anyone's ever loved someone. I want to hold you close. I want to wake up next to you at 10am. I want to see our children running around and see you smile. I want to see those grey streaks in your hair when we are growing...