You guys will never believe what happened. My father sent me a picture of him at work and his newest purchase (because he's wholesome like that) and he was wearing... toe socks. Oh lord.
Also in case my descriptions weren't enough, attached above are what I envision as Blake's outfit for this chapter's show.
"Hi, I'm Dakota Spaulding."
"And I'm Blake Graham."
"And this is, New York Fashion Week!" We both, finally, said in sync with large grins on our faces as we looked directly at the large cameras in front of us.
"Alright, cut!" Someone called, with a tired sigh.
I mean, I get it. It took us 17 tries to say the line in sync.
"Ok, you two we got the intro! Finally. Now it's going to be all natural, no cuts unless absolutely necessary and it'll just be you two! You both already have excellent chemistry, so that's perfect!Act natural, like the cameras are not around! All you need to do is go through the questions in the hat, and that's it!" Carson, the director of the interview, waved over an assistant who was carrying a large top hat. The assistant gave the hat to Kota, while I peered inside it. It contained a bunch of little chits of paper that apparently contained some 'fun' questions for us to answer.
The whole interview's purpose was to be a 'get to know' Dakota Spaulding and Blake Graham. Coincidentally we were paired together due to us being, allegedly, the two most talked about models of this year's fashion week. Most probably due to our young age, Kota's good looks, and also my last name.
"Alright, take one!" Someone dropped the clapper, making Kota and I go back into the whole 'public figure' mode.
While we might not necessarily be the best at public figuring, we sure looked the part. Early in the morning we had been rushed to the studio to get hair, makeup, and wardrobe- but they managed to make us look bright eyed and bushy tailed by freshening us up and piling us with shots of espresso.
Dakota was clad in a simple but fashionable black bomber jacket with a white tee underneath
and black ripped jeans, his honey colored hair skillfully ruffled and white sneakers looking pristine.
I, on the other hand, was given a silky black tank that was loosely tucked into my dark washed skinny jeans, with a matching oversized ripped denim jacket that I was specifically instructed to keep on only one shoulder. While Kota was comfortably wearing his sneakers, I had these strappy black heels on that were practically a walking death trap.
"So we're going to be answering some of these 'get to know me' questions for all of y'all! Ok first question!" Kota grinned to the camera, before holding the hat to me to pick out a question. I grabbed a chit of paper and unfolded it, reading it aloud.
"Favorite ice cream flavor?" Kota tapped his chin thoughtfully. "That's a hard one."
"No it's not," I laughed. "Mines Neapolitan. But only if the strawberry ice cream doesn't have chunks of strawberry in it." I wrinkled my nose.
"That's picky." Kota poked my exposed arm, humming. "I think my favorite is from this one ice cream place in LA... it's called Screamery if you wanna look it up. It has this triple fudge brownie ice cream with cookie dough mixed in- it's so good."
I shook my head at Kota's expression, an expression of sheer love painted upon his face whilst he described his favorite ice cream. "Is now a good time to say he's lactose intolerant?" I jabbed a thumb in his direction.
"Hey! You only live once." Kota glared at me. "Next question!" He took out another chit and read it aloud. "Do you have a middle name and if so what is it? Huh, interesting. But yes, I do have a middle name it's Holden. Blake, do you have a middle name?" He threw the question to me.
"Why yes, Dakota! My middle name is Elise."
"Wow, very nice!" He handed me the hat.
"Where are you from?" I grinned at the question. "I'm actually from New York. Manhattan."'
"And I'm from the much more interesting Seal Beach, California!"
We went on with the interview, goofing off and answering the questions to the best of our abilities. We talked about our awkward first kiss stories, our least favorite words (moist and yolk), our most embarrassing memories, and right at this moment the question being the weirdest food combination we like.
"I mean, it's this weird thing that I do from time to time. I get pita and toast it, right? And then I get hummus and put it on the pita and then I get dill pickle chips and put like... as many as possible on top. Then bam! Pickle pizza." I grin.
"You're disgusting." Kota wrinkles his nose at me.
"Says you!" I protest. "Who dips their Oreos in Orange juice?"
"A lot of people, actually!"
"Gross," I sing, grabbing the last chit of paper. "Alright this is our last question and it says... 'what is your favorite memory together?'"
I grin, automatically knowing what it is.
"So, maybe it's not well known but we actually go to school together and we are also-"
"Soul sisters!" Kota cheers, grabbing my hand to show my ring and holding up his to show his matching one.
"So my favorite memory of ours was like the third time we ever hung out. And so basically we were in Paris and we decided to stay the night there. So it was us, two of our close friends, and not at the time but my boyfriend." I internally winced at the word. Focus, focus, focus. "So we were staying in a hotel and we had to split our group because there were only two rooms. So two of them stayed in one room while three of us stayed in the other. My boyfriend and I actually did not get along at the time so he and one of the guys stayed in the two person room while Kota- who was very eager to volunteer, chose to stay in my room with me and Nico."
"So the other three went out to get dinner, but he-" I pointed to Kota, "was napping while I just wanted to stay in. So instead, when he woke up we decided to watch The Notebook and order every single dessert the hotel had to offer."
"Dude, they had the best lava cake ever!" Kota agreed.
As we wrapped up the interview, I could feel the different emotions swimming through me. Regret for leaving with everything so out of place with Clark. Anxiety for my first runway show. Guilt for not talking to Clark before I left. And relief, that I at least had Kota here with me.
Exhaling loudly, I stared at my phone. The familiar phone number was already typed out waiting to be dialed. I didn't even need to try and remember the number, it just automatically came to my head.
Do it. Don't do it. Do it. Don't do it. Do it. Don't do it. Do it. Do-
The words kept chanting in my mind, making my head spin with uncertainty. Oh fuck it.
I hit the green icon and put my phone to my ear, listening to the dial. It rang one. Twice. Thrice. And right before the fourth ring the line clicked to life.
"Hello?" The low and smooth voice brought comfort to me almost immediately. It was familiar.
"Uh I-" I paused briefly to clear my throat. "Hey. It's me."
"Blake?" He asked, the shock clear in his tone. "Uh, not that it's a bad thing or anything but... why are you calling? Did you accidentally call me?"
I forced a small, awkward laugh. "No... not an accident, Parker."
I could hear his familiar laugh, the one where he exhaled and chuckled at the same time. "So, what's up?"
"You're in town, right?" I looked out of my hotel window to see the bustling streets of the city fifty floors below me.
"In Manhattan?" He asked, to which I hummed in affirmation. "Yeah I'm here. Why?"
"I actually am here also, for fashion week. And uh- it's my first show tomorrow night. I wanted to see if you would go? You don't have to feel obligated or anything I just thought tha-"
"Blake." Parker interrupted me. "I would love to go."
"Really?" I asked in a small voice. Stop it, you're Blake Graham. "I have a ticket for you, just in case you'd say yes. Umm.... did you want to meet for lunch or something so I can give it to you?"
Parker stumbled over his words before exhaling sharply. "Yeah, sure! Would Press at one work?"
I smiled at the familiar name. I confirmed the details with Parker and after quickly bidding him goodbye, I ended the call with a loud breath.
By the time one rolled around I was for once, on time. I had quickly traded my pink fuzzy pajama bottoms and kale smoothie stained shirt for a khaki colored sweater, frayed light wash jeans, and a pair of black heeled booties.
I wanted nothing more than to show up in my pajamas, but according to my manager Fashion Week meant fashionable streetwear as well.
Swinging the door open to the coffee shop, a blast of warm coffee scented air greeted me. Damn, I missed this place. Press was a place that would be forever engrained in my mind, the small unassuming coffee shop was a constant in my life when I had lived here.
I didn't even need to look at the menu to know what I wanted, because out of all the coffee shops I'd been to, Press did cold brew the best.
Instead of going to the small line to order, I craned my neck to try and spot Parker. I noticed his flash of blonde hair, slightly hidden by the bookshelf. He was sitting there.
There was our spot. The only spot we would ever sit at, due to the bookshelves that surrounded the booth providing much needed privacy from watchful eyes. It was a homey little spot, dark wood with just a single industrial light hanging over the table and a large photo of the city hung on the side. The bookshelves were filled with classic novels, the likes of Austen and the Brontës.
Before we started dating, Parker and I would study in that spot. Our first date began in that spot. We would come here after school and just talk in that spot. We would sit in silence on Sundays to work on our respective projects in that spot. It was a memorable spot for the both of us.
Inhaling a deep breath, I shook my head to clear my thoughts. I walked up to Parker and smiled at him once he noticed me walking towards the table. He stood up in greeting, a hesitant smile on his face.
"Have we gone back in time?"
Parker glanced at his watch, before meeting my gaze with a smile. "Nope, but I see what you mean."
"Nice to see you again, Park." I opened my arms to give him a hug, which he returned. His familiar cologne was still there, and it really did feel like we went back in time to two years ago.
His hair wasn't fixed and was against his forehead, like how it was when we were fifteen. He was wearing his favorite blue sweater that brought out his deep blue eyes. His silver Piaget watch that his grandfather had gifted him was still wrapped around his left wrist. And the small smile that almost always played on his lips was once again present. He was familiar and that was comforting. He wasn't my Parker anymore, but he was still Parker. I'm glad that he was finally back to being himself, he wasn't the same when I saw him in October.
"So, Li- Blake," he quickly corrected himself. "Sorry, I'm still getting used to it."
I slid into the booth, watching as he did the same. "No, you're good." I looked down to my lap briefly. "You know, you can still call me that. You've called me it forever, I have no qualms with you continuing... unless you don't want to, of course."
Parker's smile widened. "Ok... Lise. Oh, here I ordered for you, if that's all good? Cold brew, right?"
I nodded with a grin, watching as he slid the mason jar filled with dark coffee towards me.
"So, before I forget... here's your ticket!" I retrieved the VIP pass from my bag and handed it to him.
After relaying the details, we fell into easy conversation. The nostalgia was overwhelming, but in a good way. It was nice to have someone to talk to, especially someone you had gone through so much with.
"So, are you excited for your first ever show?" Parker leaned back in his seat.
"Yeah... but I'm also incredibly nervous. Like what if I fall?"
"I think you'll do just fine." He reassured.
"I hope so." I mumbled. "You know, I wanted you to have the ticket because no matter what, you'll always be my friend. And I want my friend to be there, especially you. Since you're the one who used to always go with me to the fashion shows with no fuss," I laughed at the memories of me dragging Parker to a Dolce & Gabbana fashion show, where he had accidentally fallen asleep on a famous actress's shoulder.
"Of course, you'll always be my friend as well. No matter what." Parker reaffirmed with a grin. "Hey, is Margot coming? Or... your dad?"
A small frown pulled at my lips, but I plastered a fake smile on instead. "Um, actually Margot couldn't make it. She's stuck at work, she tried but they weren't letting her off. And my father can't."
"Oh. What about your friends? The ones from Cambridge?"
"Mhmm." I took a drink of my cold brew. "Dakota's actually already here since he's a model. And Luca should be arriving tonight to help his mother, because she's a designer. Nico and Sarah are coming tomorrow."
"Wow you've got a whole caravan. Wait... aren't you with Clark Ellington?"
Feelings of guilt sliced through me at the mention of Clark. He found out about my early graduation just three days ago, but I had to leave early morning the next day. We didn't get the chance to talk.
When we had fought and I had to go to Paris, we at least exchanged some small words and brief texts. But now, not a single word was exchanged from the both of us. Radio silence.
I really wanted to talk to him, to joke around with him, to have him comfort me when my feelings of anxiety over the upcoming show would overcome me. But I knew that I had to give him space to think.
But does space mean he won't come to the show? He was the only person I wanted to come, and with my lies, I had ruined it.
"Yeah, I am- we're dating." I said quietly, not knowing how Parker would react.
"That's cool! I remember how you two would always fight when we were younger, and you used to boo him during our soccer games in junior high."
I blushed at the memory, remembering how I would loudly cheer for Parker, the goalie, and throw jeers and insults towards the forward, Clark.
"So, is he coming?" Parker asked casually, just wanting to make conversation.
"I... he actually had a last minute meeting so I don't think he'll be able to make it." The fib slipped past my lips.
Parker just nodded in understanding, before switching the topic.
We continued to talk for another hour, before it was finally time to bid him goodbye. After I left, I had to go to the venue for where tomorrow's show was for the final fittings.
I was led into the backstage by one of the assistants, who looked more nervous than me. She pointed in the direction of a clothing rack that had a black garment bag hanging with a printed headshot of me attached to it.
Quickly thanking the assistant, I sat down on one of the vacant makeup chairs, waiting for the creative director to come.
Nari came within seconds, her white pantsuit and matching white bob making an involuntary smile appear on my face. She was definitely someone I enjoyed working with, I met her when I first got here and unlike the other brands I was to work with for this fashion week, Nari made the brand seem appealing. She was bright, young, and a visionary, which made me excited for what she had chosen for me to wear tomorrow, since earlier I was informed that the designers were still debating on what they wanted me to wear for the show.
"Blakely! Great, right on time! And I'm glad Josie was able to bring you to the right spot, she was a little nervous." Nari glanced at the exit where the assistant had retreated to.
I waved her off, smiling. "I'm just excited to see what I'm wearing!"
"Perfect! So we want you to try it on today just to check and see if we need to make any final alterations. So, we were really excited about you being one of our models for this, because for this season's line we wanted to have a more vintage touch. You know how vintage fashion is coming back in style?"
I nodded, watching her dark eyes light up as she described her choice.
"So with you we felt like simple is the way to go, and we wanted to put you in something that would definitely be a fan favorite. But then our idea was changed slightly because we saw a picture on the vision board that really got us thinking. Your mother's outfit for us in the 80's was in this stunning black dress. After the show and the line's release, the dress was sold out nationwide within a week. It was a definite favorite amongst consumers, but we never brought it back... until now."
I immediately recognized the dress that she was talking about. It was a beautiful black silk dress with diamanté detail just barely lining the edges. The front and the back of the bodice were just barely attached by 3 delicate chains of diamonds on both sides. It was a beautiful dress and it was what made my mother go from model to supermodel.
"We want you to wear the same dress that Colette Fontaine wore in 1989's New York Fashion Week."
My heart stuttered at her words. I tried to wrack my brain for something to say, but I came short.
"The dress isn't a replica or a remake of it... it's the exact dress. We checked your measurements with your mother's at the time and they are almost the exact same, which is why we need you to try it on. But I wanted to ask and see if you're going to be alright with this? I know it's hard and I don't want you to feel anything other than happiness when doing your first major show, so just let me know."
They wanted me to wear my mother's dress. This was something that shouldn't make me nervous, but it was. But the prospect of having something that could make me feel closer to mom was too appealing.
"Yeah... I'll do it."
I regret my decision.
I shouldn't have said yes, because now that the show has begun and I'm to go on in half an hour- I feel like I can't breathe.
Today was the day. This evening was the time. Right now was it. I was to walk in half an hour. But why do I feel like I can't do it?
My hair was curled and sprayed into large glamorous curls, my makeup done softly, and the dress altered to fit me like a second skin. I could feel the cool air hitting my legs, which were exposed due to the two high cuts on both sides of the dress. But the cool air wasn't what were causing the goosebumps on my skin.
It was dizzying. The air was dizzying. My heart beating rapidly, so rapidly that I couldn't differentiate each beat.
Is my breathing supposed to be this labored?
I could hear someone in the distance calling my name, but I couldn't focus. I couldn't see. It was too blurry, the noise too loud.
I don't remember when or how, but I realized that I'm sitting in the corner of the backstage hair and makeup section, legs folded and hands clutching onto my chest. But that's all I could realize.
"We need someone to get her help!" Was all I could hear, the voice muffled against the loud music for the show.
It felt like hours, days, weeks before I heard a voice again. How long has it been?
"Blake? Blake? Blake!" They shook me, causing me to focus as I hyperventilated.
"It's Luca. You're fine. It's fine. Focus, c'mon breathe. You can do it, just take a deep breathe."
"I-I c-c-can't." I managed to choke out, my breathing still labored and heart still racing.
"Hey, hey do you need me to get someone? I can get Nico? Dakota? Sarah? Or Parker? They're all here, just please..." He paused, trying to find the right words. His deep brown eyes bored into mine, pleading with me.
But I couldn't.
"Hey, what's happening?" A new voice interrupted, but I was still stuck staring into Luca's eyes.
"She's having a panic attack, I'm not sure why. I'm trying to get her to breathe, but it's not working. I don't know what to do!"
"What? She hasn't had anything happen for the past few days for her other shows!" Another voice added.
"Don't focus on that, we need to get her to calm down! She's supposed to walk soon! She needs help!" A girl's voice cried.
"Nico?" Luca asked.
"I don't think I'm the right person, I mean I can try but... Parker? You've known her the longest."
"I- Maybe but are you sur-"
"What's going on?" A new, but all too familiar voice interrupted. "Why are you all not in your seats and... what happened?"
"She's having a panic attack."
"Bloody hell, why didn't anyone tell me?" The voice angrily demanded.
"We just found out and we also... thought you wanted some space and that you wanted to give her some sp-" The words of whoever was talking died down, as the brown eyes I was looking into switched into vibrant green ones.
Why was he here? He's angry at me. He doesn't want to be with me. He hates me. He's-
"Graham? Graham can you hear me?"
I weakly nodded in response, my breathing not at all slowing down.
"Hey, I need you to focus on my voice. I need you to listen to me, okay? You hear me, love? I need you to take a deep breath on the count of three. One... two... three."
He inhaled and exhaled along with me, as I choked out a breath that I didn't know I was holding onto.
"I'm going to have you do it again, alright? Just pay attention to me." As I took a deep breath with him two more times, my breathing slowed down and my senses cleared up.
I could see Nico, Luca, Parker, Kota, and Sarah all standing in the corner hurriedly whispering to one another. I could see Clark. I could see him holding both my arms and staring at me in worry, his eyebrows furrowed as he watched. I could hear him breathing, I could hear the music in the background, and I could hear my own regulated breathing.
Everything was too strong- the emotions. The guilt for Clark, the disappointment from my father not being here, the anxiety for this show, the sadness from my mother being gone, the pressure to live up to my mother's legacy. I just needed to feel grounded.
So, I threw my arms around Clark's neck and hugged him close to me, feeling his heart beat as fast as mine as he whispered to me soothingly.
"I've got you. I've got you. I've got you."