I wadded up yet another one of my sketches, tossing it on the floor with the others. A small pile of crappy designs began to form on my carpeted floor and it made my stomach sink.
I'd spent almost two hours trying to come up with designs for the fashion show. Nothing I came up with was good enough. Maybe it was the pressure of the short time-frame Coach Sanders and Principal Williams gave us when they green-lighted the show.
Apparently, Westbrook High had a booked social calendar. The only available date was in December. It was November. There was no way we could pull this off in that amount of time.
Or maybe my lack of decent ideas stemmed from the fact that I sucked at design. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't even really follow fashion. The only reason I began sewing in the first place was because I wanted a dress that was out of my parents' prince range. So, I made a duplicate myself, with a little help from Aunt Linda.
What was I thinking when I agreed to do this? Who did I think I was? The editor of fashion magazine tells me she likes my jeans and suddenly I think I can design an entire line of clothes?
Defeated, I got up from my desk, stepping over my crumpled up pile of failures and exited my room. Mom sat on the sofa in the living room, her phone pressed to her ear as housewives argued on the TV.
When I lowered myself beside her she mumbled a goodbye to the person on the other line before ending the call.
My brow raised at her suspiciously. "Who was that?"
"Oh, no one," she smiled, looking at the TV. "Just the hospital."
My lips tilted into a frown. It was Friday and she mentioned having the day off. Between my school work and now the fashion show I felt like I hadn't seen her much. "Are you going in?"
She sighed lazily. "For work, no. I'm just going in to make sure my shoulder is healing properly."
"When you're done with that and I'm done with tutoring maybe we can watch a movie?" I suggested. The whole fashion show thing was stressing me out and I needed to take a break.
"Don't you have clothes to design?"
So much for that plan.
"Yes, but..." My words trailed off as I tried to think of the right way to word my thoughts. Telling her I was in way over my head and the fashion show was going to do go down in flames might've caused her to worry.
"You're nervous?" She filled in for me.
That was a bit of an understatement. I nodded in agreement anyway, deciding against telling her about the huge weight I'd placed on my shoulders.
She reached out, clasping her hand around mine and offering up a supportive smile. "That's completely normal," she said, her voice soft and comforting. "Just keep in mind that they wouldn't have asked you to do this if they didn't have faith in you."
"They're cheerleaders. Their job is to be supportive, even if the team is losing," I retorted.
"It's not just the cheerleaders rooting for you. What about Victoria Hernandez? The editor of that fashion magazine."
My brow furrowed as I looked at her. I never told Mom about my conversation with Victoria because it was too good to be true: something that would have fizzled out before anything really came out of it. One of the most prominent names in the fashion world discovering me inside a farm-themed restaurant? Stuff like that only happened in movies or to people who weren't me.
"How'd you know about that?" I questioned.
"She called earlier when you were up in your room, hunched over your desk," she said, her brow creased with confusion. "I told you and you said to tell her you'll call her back."
I vaguely remembered the short interaction. It happened during the peak of my internal crisis, when I thought a tutu would be a good idea for one of the sketches I was working on. The thought made me shudder in disgust.
"Why did you tell me she offered you a job?"
"An internship," I corrected, pulling my knees up onto the couch. "I didn't think she was serious."
"She is serious and wants you to call her back to set up a meeting."
Any normal person who had the same opportunity as me would've been happy. Ecstatic, even. That's not at all how I felt. My mind went into over-drive playing out the worst case scenarios. All of them ending with me making a complete fool of myself.
+++
Cameron's phone beeped as a timer went off. "Pencils down!" We all followed instructions. When he asked us to pass him our practice quizzes, I hesitated.
Half of my quiz was blank. I was doing great until Miles walked in fifteen minutes ago. He didn't even knock or say anything, just headed straight down the hall. Why was he always there?
After realizing my crush on him, his very presence was able to throw me off track. Despite my feelings for him, I still couldn't get over what happened on Halloween.
A headache started to form the longer I thought about it. I couldn't wait to get home and start a movie marathon with Mom.
When I passed Cameron my test, I didn't miss his frown at my lack of answers. He stacked the papers together. "Alright, that's it for the day," he announced. "We'll review the quiz next session."
"But it's only been forty minutes," Jessica interjected, with a borderline whine.
"I know and I'm sorry about that. But I did text you to let you know this session would be cut short," he said, hurriedly. The sudden flush on his cheeks wasn't easy to miss. "I have a date."
That explained his current appearance. He was usually in jeans and a shirt with some sort of comic book character on it. This day he looked a little more put together. He swapped out his T-shirt for a black button-down and his red jeans didn't look like they were just picked up off of his bedroom floor. Even his hair was styled nicely.
"Nice," Darrin grinned, high-fiving Cameron.
Jessica scoffed, slamming her hands on the table as she jolted up from her seat. "I'm supposed to flunk math so that you can get laid?"
Her outburst was followed by a few seconds of awkward silence as we all just stared at her.
"It's only the first date," Cameron coughed, his face became even redder.
I held back a laugh as Jessica rolled her eyes and began gathering up her things. She left out in a huff, making a point to slam the door behind her.
"Good luck on your date," Darrin called over his shoulder as he too left.
Once it was just Cameron and me, he asked, "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah," I replied quickly, trying to hurry and pack my bag. "I just...spaced. Headache."
As I zipped up my backpack my phone began to beep obnoxiously. Cameron's did the same and I knew it was an alert of some kind.
"Flash flood warning," he read out loud.
Living in California my whole life had not prepared me for rain. No umbrella. No rain coat. Just a pullover meant to keep me warm, not dry. The rain began pelting against Cameron's house immediately. The sound causing me to shiver at the thought of being soaked in it.
His eyes shot up to me. "Are you taking the bus?"
"Unfortunately," I said, slipping my bag onto my shoulder. Glancing down at my phone, I noted that it would be, at least, a thirty minute wait.
I didn't worry so much about a car back in Adsgrove because I never really went anywhere. The rain had me considering getting a job so I could buy one. I wonder if the internship Victoria offered me paid?
"Do you want a ride?"
The sound of rain became louder as it pounded against the house. I did not want to walk in that.
"I don't want to make you late for your date," I said, as his phone dinged with a text.
"Don't worry about it." He waved off, his thumbs tapping at his phone as he replied to the text. From the grin on his face I assumed it was his date. "Miles can take you."
My stomach roiled at the thought of sitting in the car with Miles.
I hadn't talked to him since I brushed him off the other day. Avoiding him had been relatively easy. The fashion show was the perfect excuse for not being able to chat with him. I wouldn't have that luxury if we were in the same car.
My only options were to accept the ride from Miles and be swept away by a flood of hormones or to possibly be swept away in an actual flood.
Cameron glanced down the hall before leaning in and whispering, "You know, he feels like shit for leaving you the party."
That was hard to believe. He certainly wasn't acting like it.
"I'm serious," he insisted as if he could read my mind. "Maybe you could just give him a chance to explain?"
Before I could make a decision Cameron was shouting down the hall for his friend. Miles appeared only seconds later, dressed in sweats and a hoodie - half zipped with no shirt underneath. My heart beat at twice it's normal speed and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't pull me eyes away from his muscled chest.
Damn it.