Schooled

Chapter 22

They wrapped up the interview by thanking Jaime and citing some statistics on failure rates of new business ventures, but I'd already tuned out. A hint of panic was crawling up my throat. What were we getting ourselves into?

Ava knew it and tried to brush it off. "Forget the market, Lex. Our clothes will practically sell themselves." Her cavalier attitude normally glanced off me, but today it was irritating rather than endearing.

While Ava and Jaime shared a fierce ability to design street-savvy clothes, the similarities ended there. Jaime was a shrewd business woman, while Ava always figured she'd land on her feet.

"It doesn't work like that, A. We need the clothes, but we have to hit the market with the right connections, the right promoters, and the right price point at the right time." If Jaime couldn't get it right ... I didn't want to think about the repercussions for us. Two college students with zero experience? We needed all the help we could possibly get.

"We'll get the money to start, don't worry so much. Once people see the line the rest will be easy!" She narrowed her eyes at me. "Why are you so down on this all of a sudden? You sound like my parents lately."

"I'm not, it's just—" Something went off in the back of my head. "What do you mean like your parents?"

"Well, they haven't come right out and said it, but Mom asked me if I wouldn't want to also get a diploma in something more 'mainstream.' That it would give me more 'options.' You know I don't do subtle, but if that's not a hint, I don't know what is."

This was news to me. The Camerons had always seemed completely supportive of Ava's ambitions, and her siblings before that. I hoped this was just Ava blowing things out of proportion—otherwise I wasn't sure what to do with that piece of information.

* * *

Dylan and I walked across campus between classes the next day. It was getting more awkward to hide our relationship—or whatever this was. When he'd drive me and Ava to school, we'd part ways on arrival only to meet up later. I hated feeling so sneaky.

Fall was starting to get colder—definitely sweater weather. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans as we walked, since I'd been pretty clear about the "no PDA" rule.

"Of course they support Ava," he was saying. I tried not to be distracted by his dark-green pullover that set off his hair and eyes. It looked soft and I wanted to curl up on it. On him. And then maybe ...

"You're talented, and so is she," he went on. "But even you have to admit this fashion thing is a long shot, right? I mean, how many businesses actually make it?"

Because I had been busy checking him out, it took me a minute to catch up. "Ours will. It has to." I said it with more confidence than I felt, thinking I sounded like Ava. But, we would succeed. This was my life. My shot. I had a lot of stake in this and had done my homework. We would make it work.

"OK, but what if it doesn't? You'll have your business degree, can do anything else you want to. Ava doesn't have a fallback."

Part of my mind said he was being practical, but his words stopped me in my tracks. Because it was the middle of the day and we were in the heart of campus, other students had to change tracks so as not to run me over.

It took him a minute to realize I wasn't with him and he stopped and turned, a perplexed expression on his handsome face.

"What did I say?"

"You think I'm doing a business degree because I want to be in business? That fashion is just ... what ... a whim?" I didn't try to keep the hurt out of my voice.

He opened his mouth but I cut him off. "You think we won't actually succeed with this thing? That in a year we'll be a statistic? Another failed small business venture?" I probably sounded more like Ava than me, but this was the one thing that mattered to me more than anything in the world.

"Lex, come on. It's not that I don't believe in you. You're brilliant and amazing. But you have to admit the idea's a bit crazy—a pair of twenty-two-year-olds starting a profitable business right out of school? In an unpredictable and hyper-competitive industry like fashion? Without connections, or money?" Every word felt like a stake in my heart. How could he say these things? Worse, how long had he been thinking this?

"Wow, Dylan." I didn't bother to hide the sarcasm. "Just because I'm not building schools for underprivileged children, what I want to do isn't good enough?" I was twisting his words but didn't care.

"No," he said, his voice tinged with frustration. "What I'm saying is that it's good to have a backup plan. That's all." He spread his hands wide like he was being totally reasonable and didn't know why I was being so unreasonable.

"Don't you get it, Dylan? I don't have a backup plan. This is it for me. I need to make this work. I will make this work." This was how I'd show my mom I could do something on my own terms.

"Well, maybe you should. Have a backup plan."

My heart twisted. "Un-fucking-believable." I turned and walked away.

"Lex, wait!" I heard him call from behind me. I didn't listen.