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Fashion. I always loved the concept, the idea, the power it gives us to create something out of nothing. In the middle of my fabrics, I was in my little world and no one could disturb me or stop be from being happy.

When I was a kid, my peers used to ask me for clothes or one of my badly made designs (which they found spectacular) and I usually accepted the latter happily as it gave me a chance to imagine a new model and get new ideas.

"You've got so much talent!"

"You'll be better than that Holmes dude one day, Melody."

My best friend, Lillie, was the one always saying that and my parents signed under her words. I could never complain about lack of support.

I got older and my ideas also ended up maturing and flourishing.

I was in my early 20s and could not complain about my romantic life. It's not that I was dating or something, but apparently it was easy for me to arouse certain passions in others (as Lillie always said and I eventually accepted).

"I spend all my time thinking about you, Melody". Jamie, the brother of one of my best friends and ex-boyfriend, kept saying until this day.

"I won't give up on you." Danny, the guy from the fabric shop, used to tell me every time I went there.

I could always be courted, but I always rejected everyone. Stupidly, I was still trapped in my childhood crush that I hadn't seen since we went to college. I went to the University of Delaware and Dale ended up going to Virginia Tech.

When I finished college, 2 years ago, I moved to a studio in New York, my hometown, where I placed orders for my designs, both for individuals and for modeling, theater or television companies. I had even done some of the Jon Bon Jovi outfits for the last tour and I can admit that it was one of my biggest works to date.

That day I was so focused on sewing a green-toned Victorian dress that was going to an opera at Dolby Theatre that I didn't even hear Lillie almost blasting the door of my studio from the way she opened it, breathing heavily. as if she had run a marathon.

"Forgot how to knock on the door?" I asked without looking away from the needle that was making a complicated movement at that moment.

"Shut up and watch this." She positioned herself behind me and put her arms around my shoulders, placing the phone in front of me. "Thank me later." A video of Samuel Holmes, one of the biggest and most famous designer of the state...not to mention my crush's dad, but that isn't that important, began to play. I didn't pay much attention until the words "searching" and "designer" were pronounced. I ripped the phone from my best friend's hands and stood up abruptly, throwing both my wheelchair and the girl backwards. "I love you too, okay?" She said sarcastically as she stood up and I grinned at the screen.


There was a huge line of people at the door of the Holmes mansion.

I had been in line for almost 2 hours and was not even close to the entrance where Pat, Dale's old bodyguard, was looking at everyone with a serious look. His eyes eventually met mine and I raised a hand with difficulty as I was holding a suitcase and some projects that didn't fit in it, waving to which he responded with a nod and went back to his work. I looked up toward the mansion windows and saw Wanda, Mr. Holmes new wife, looking down. I couldn't contain the desire to see Dale at some point, but I knew it was unlikely. The guy would probably be in a photoshoot or even recording at the moment, as usual since we were young, because he was also working on his dad company. When I finally got inside the house, several chairs lined up against the wall were being occupied. I had no choice but to lean against the wall trying not to let anyone pass me. I closed my eyes and sighed. At least I wasn't under that scorching sun anymore, right?

"Sorry, but thank you for your time." That familiar voice made my heart skip a beat and the saliva that was in my mouth almost choked me.

I looked in the direction from where the voice came from and Dale was there, looking out from the door half open and an embarrassed smile on his face. He was a little different... not so much physically (besides being even taller and his face having more mature features), but in his style. He was wearing a plain blue T-shirt and a black leather jacket that I knew to be from Mr. Holmes' new Young Adult line.

His eyes quickly met mine and I legit thought he wouldn't recognize me; my hair that once was blonde was now black and I almost never released it from my ponytail, like I used to, my style had changed completely, not to mention the makeup that was covering my face... Oh, Melody, how wrong were you. He smiled and opened the door a little wider, raising a hand and waving. Still not sure he was looking at me, I looked back and (although many girls were already melting) I had confirmation that he was looking at me when he spelled "Melody" with his lips and waved me to come closer.

"I can't." I tried to say without making a sound as I pointed to my suitcase and the people in front of me. He rolled his eyes and waved at me to come closer once again, looking into the office, possibly because Mr. Holmes had called him or something. I shrugged and got out of the line, advancing toward the door.

"Hey! Go back to your place!" A girl said behind me and I was going to apologize when ...

"Come on in." Dale grabbed my shoulder and pulled me into the room, closing the door behind us without even giving me a chance to apologize to the girl.

I looked ahead and Samuel Holmes was sitting at his desk with his arms crossed, looking at me very seriously.

For the first time in my life, I was shaking because someone else while Dale Holmes was present.

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