What You're Not | ✔

34. Paper Cuts

Vivian said nothing until we reached the top of the stairs. She looked down the hall at a closed door.

"Doors closed," she informed me. "That means she doesn't want to be disturbed. You can help me while you wait."

She started waling in the opposite direction of her mom's office and I followed. We entered a bedroom with pale green walls and a large bed with about twenty stuffed animals arranged on it. Not at all what I expected her room to look like.

"Disappointed there's no hell fire or rotting corpses?" She smirked.

"Kind of."

"You can sit if you want." She pointed to the love seat that was up against the wall. I sat down, dropping my bag on the floor next to my feet. "Why don't you want to talk about Miles? I've known him for almost ten years. I can tell you all of his juicy secrets."

"For starters I don't really believe a single thing that comes out of your mouth."

She rolled her eyes at me before stepping into her walk-in closet. From where I was seated I could only get a glimpse of her wardrobe. It was stocked with clothes I could only dream of owning. I was sure I could make my own versions of most of the stuff, but it'd be nothing like owning clothes from real designers.

"Since you don't believe anything I say," she said, stepping out of the closet with a thick binder hugged to her chest. "I have pictures. I know photo albums are old school, but things feel more permanent when I can actually hold them in my hands."

My brow creased as I watched her drop down on the couch beside me. She was being overly enthusiastic about this. I found myself missing the constant glares.

"Why are you doing this?"

Her brown eyes looked up at me innocently. "Doing what?"

"Being nice, trying to be my friend," I told her. "You told me we didn't have to do this."

She let out a sigh, placing the photo album down on the couch next to her. "Honestly, Miles has been a little distant since he started seeing you." She raked her fingers through her hair, a frown over taking her features. "I found out you were dating through Riley. Riley! She the last to know anything."

That didn't answer my question. If the issue was between her and Miles then he should've been the one who was forced to look at photo albums. Actually, that wasn't what I wanted either. Their relationship was still a mystery to me and a small ping of jealousy ran through me at the thought of them together.

I was at a crossroad. One path was high and noble, the other low and petty. I might not have trusted Vivian, but I did trust Miles. She was his friend and I didn't want to destroy what Miles and I had by driving a wedge between him and her. No one wanted to be that girl. So, I took the highroad.

"What did you need help with?"

"What?" She lifted a brow at me.

"When you dragged me in here you said I could help you," I reminded her. "What were you talking about?"

Her face lit up as she lifted herself up from the couch. "My birthday is coming up and I need help picking a dress for the party," she said, stepping into her walk-in. A few moments later she walked out with three black garment bags in her arms. "I was reading this book that had a masquerade ball scene and I got inspired to throw one myself."

She closed the door, hanging the bags on the rack that hung on the back. She unzipped each of the bags, revealing three gorgeous ball gowns. I might've known my way around a sewing machine, but I could never create anything like those.

"Red, black or gold?" She pointed to each, looking at me expectantly.

I stood to get a better look at them. The three dresses we're all beautiful, but one stood out the most. "Gold," I said. The metallic fabric demanded attention, which would be perfect for Vivian.

She took the dress from the bag, walked over to the full length mirror and held the dress up to herself. She smiled at her reflection. "I guess you're not so useless after all."

I held back an eye roll as I reclaimed my seat on the couch. Vivian started ranting about shoes as she put the dresses back into her closet. I pulled out my phone to distract myself from the fact that I was starting to bond with enemy.

Vivian emerged from her closet with four shoe boxes stacked in her arms. She set the boxes down on the bed, then turned to me to say something. Before she could, though, there was a knock at the door.

"It's open," Vivian called out, lowering herself onto the bed.

Victoria walked in, a bright smile on her face. "We got the ballroom!"

"We did?" Vivian's face mirrored her mother's.

"Of course," she grinned. "I wasn't going to let some dentist convention ruin my daughters party."

She jumped up from the bed, rushing over to hug her mom. It was hard to shake the fact that the same girl with a bed full of stuffed animals was also the girl who was a complete bitch just a week ago. She seemed to take on an entirely different persona.

"Thanks, Ma," Vivian beamed. "I need one more thing, though."

She glanced over at me, waving for me to come over.

"Loren, " Victoria greeted. "I didn't see you there. What are you doing here?"

"She wants another interview thingy," Vivian spoke for me.

Her mother's lips formed a straight line as she eyed me warily. "You've wasted my time once already."

"I know and I'm sorry," I apologized, pulling at my fingers. "I'm ready to get serious now and I'd love to have the opportunity to work with you."

She still didn't convinced. "Your unique style is what drew me to you, but those designs I saw—"

"She fixed them," Vivian cut in, nudging me. "Show her."

I pulled the pictures up on my phone and handed it to Victoria. My breathing stopped as I watched for a reaction as she swiped through the photos. Her lips twitched up into a small smile and I allowed myself to breathe.

"Now this is what I was expecting from you," she told me, handing the phone back. "I have a conference call in a few minutes, but how does tomorrow at five sound?"

"Perfect."

"So," Vivian sang after her mom left the room. "Do you believe that I'm not out to get you now?"

Maybe she was being genuinely nice to me and really did want to be my friend, but I couldn't bring myself to fully trust her. She was putting on the jealous girlfriend act a week ago. How was I supposed to believe she had good intentions when she'd been so sneaky before?

"Thanks for getting me another interview with your mom," I said to her as I went to grab my bag. "But after everything I just don't believe that you're magically fine with me and Miles."

I expected her to say something snarky. Instead, she turned, suddenly interested in the pile of shoes on her bed. "Whatever."