Rosalie
I take the pin out of my mouth and attach it to the fabric, making it snug to Leila’s body. She’s used to this, so I have no issues with asking her to stand still or move when I need her to. She seems to sense it, which makes my job a hell of a lot easier.
Leila hasn’t been the only person to be my human mannequin when I needed to visualize a design on a body. I’ve hired models before, especially when I was designing clothes back home, but it was a hassle trying to figure out the way they worked, the way their bodies moved and formed to the clothes. Having Leila here makes it so much easier to figure it out on one person first.
While I’d prefer for my concentration to be focused on the dress right now, especially since I’m afraid I might accidentally poke Leila, my head is somewhere else completely
“I know, mom. I’m sorry, again.”
After I ditched her plane ticket to go to New York, she hasn’t called me back or even texted. I thought she’d be mad, furious even, and that she’d fly here and drag me to New York with her. She threatened to do exactly that. I didn’t expect her to not react at all. That is, until now
I’ve been on the phone for nearly half an hour, trying to placate her for my not attending the charity gala. I didn’t even want to go. I hate those events. They’re nothing but tax write-offs.
She’s been ignoring me for weeks. She didn’t call or text or even answer my calls. She’s been giving me the silent treatment. Either that, or she just forgot about me, which wouldn’t be the first time.
I seem to be forgettable and invisible in this family. Nothing I do is ever good enough for my parents. Well, my mother. My father could care less. I wonder if he was like this with my brother, Travis, or if he was actually a caring, loving father to him. If so, I’m jealous I never got that.
I’m smart and educated. I get good grades, and I’m polite. I’ve never been in trouble, but it still isn’t good enough for them. I tried so hard to make them appreciate me. I followed orders and did exactly as they wanted me to do. I never rebelled or tried to disobey them, but nothing worked. I think I’m at a point where I need to stop trying to get their validation, no matter how much I want it.
“Do you know how humiliating that was?” she asks.
I sigh, sitting back on my heels. “The cab was late, mom. I lost my flight, I couldn’t go.”
The lie rolls off my tongue with no effort at all. It was getting easier to lie. I am an expert at it now. I’m lying to everyone I know. My friends, my family, everyone.
Grayson is this huge secret in my life, and I’m not sure what exactly I’m hiding. He taught me about sex, how to feel good, how to experience things I’ve always wanted. Like my first kiss and my first orgasm. And my first hook-up, which were all perfect. But that doesn’t mean I want to air out my dirty laundry for everyone to know.
No one needs to know about Grayson or what we’re doing. I love how he makes me feel. Being around him is like being in my own bubble away from the real world. I can escape for a few hours with him and then return to my normal life like it never even happened.
“You could have bought another flight, Rosalie. You have enough money in your trust fund for that,” she spits. “Or have you already spent it all on tattoos and drugs?”
Above me, Leila snorts and then covers her mouth. Yeah, Leila knew none of that even sounded remotely like me.
I clamp my mouth shut. She always finds a way to throw that money back in my face. It didn’t matter that they left it for me to access when I turned eighteen or that it was rightfully mine. In her head, I owed her for it. I owed her for finally becoming my own person and living my life.
I don’t think my mother wanted a daughter. What she wanted was another version of her that she could control and mold into who she was. She never earned a dime in her life. I don’t think she even knows what working entails.
“No,” I sigh. “I just didn’t think. I’ll be there next time.”
“Good,” she replies. “Then you’ll be here next Friday for the cocktail party.”
“Mom, I can’t Friday, I have class.”
“Really? Because Lizzie told me that you skipped class last Friday.”
I still, looking up at Leila, and she arches her brow in humor. Yeah, I didn’t tell her about that either. “Who’s Lizzie?”
“The dean, Rosalie.” I almost roll my eyes. Of course, my mother would be on a nickname basis with the dean of the school. “If you didn’t go to class, then where did you go?” she asks.
A smile appears on Leila’s face, no doubt wondering the same thing. What would I even say? Oh, you know, I skipped class to ride a motorcycle with a drug dealer who then gave me my first kiss and nearly made me orgasm. Yeah, no.
I hesitate. Not knowing what to say.
“Well?” My mom asks.
“Uh… I was sick,” I tell her.
“Sick?”
I clear my throat, trying to cover up Leila’s laughing. “Yes, mom. I got a cold and couldn’t go.”
“A cold? Did you go to the hospital? You know I have Dr. Derin’s number. I’m sure he could make a house call to your apartment if you’re not feeling well.”
“Mom.” I interrupt her. “I’m fine. It was just a cold, and I’m better now.”
“Are you sure? I could call Dr. Derin.”
“He lives in New York.” I doubt our family doctor would be making out-of-state house calls.
“He could get a flight. Lord knows we pay him enough.”
I sigh, shaking my head. “I’ll be there next week, mom,” I tell her.
“Good,” she says. “Beth’s son was so disappointed that you weren’t there. He’s looking forward to meeting you. And preferably in an appropriate dress. I don’t know what you’ve been doing while in college, Rosalie, but you need to come with the attitude of the girl I raised.”
“Dress appropriately, got it,” I tell her.
“Tilly is coming soon to plan the party. I’ve got to go.”
“Okay, mom. Love you.”
“Love you too, Rosalie.”
I hang up the phone and let out a deep breath. I thought I got out of attending the charity gala to virtually sell me off. But instead, I got myself invited to another one.
“Sorry about that,” I tell Leila, pinning the hem of the dress a little higher.
“No worries,” she says. I fix the dress to mold her body, and after a while, she clears her throat. “So, where did you go last Friday?”
I groan. “Not you too.”
She laughs. “I know you weren’t sick, which means it must be good if you’d lie to your mother about it.”
“Why? Because I’m a goody two shoes.”
“Yes,” she says. I narrow my eyes at her, and she shrugs. “It’s not a bad thing. That’s just who you are.”
I shake my head. “Yeah, well, I’m trying to change that.”
“By doing…”
“Not answering that.”
She laughs again, and I get up off the floor, spinning her around to view the dress from the front. It’s a long satin green dress that hugs her curves and flows out at the bottom.
“It looks great.” I smile at her. “Thank you again for agreeing to model for me again.”
She’s the best to work with. And obviously, seeing as we’re best friends, it was the best choice. But no matter how much I try to force the money on her, she always denies it.
I get it. We’re friends, and she feels bad taking money from me. At the same time, it’s a stupid thing to decline. If I were to hire another model, I would have to pay them either way. The only reason I ask Leila to model for me is that she’s around me often, and I already know her body, her measurements, and the way clothes fit on her. It makes it so much easier to get a design done.
“You don’t need to thank me. It’s not a big deal,” she says, turning around to face the mirror. “I should thank you,” she says, her eyes widening as she smooths her hand over the dress. “My butt looks good.”
I let out a laugh. “That’s your body, not the dress,” I tell her. Her curves are perfect for the fit of this dress and make the fabric cling to her body while highlighting every dip and curve in her body.
“Trust me, it’s the dress,” she says. “You know, I’m going to an event this week. If you want, I can wear it to the party and promote it.”
My brows snap up. “You’d do that?”
She shrugs, looking at me in the mirror. “Of course. Your designs are great, Rosie. They’ll get the traction they deserve, and I want to be a part of that.” She smiles. “Especially because I think it’s amazing that you’re designing a luxury fashion brand that’s inclusive.”
My eyes soften. “That was a given. I want everyone to be able to wear my designs.” The thought of having a plus-size best friend and ending up designing a line that would be for straight sizes only would be like a slap in the face to her.
I wasn’t even aware that there weren’t many designer brands that offered plus sizes until Leila told me. It’s the dumbest thing I’ve heard. People of all sizes love designer clothes, and they’re missing out on a market with a lot of potential customers.
She laughs. “Yeah, speaking of, I’m keeping this.”
I snicker. “It’s all yours,” I tell her. “After I make the changes.” I snap my fingers. “Strip.”
“Bossy,” she says as she pulls the zip down and steps out of the dress.
“I’m practicing for when I’m a ruthless famous designer.” I joke.
She places the dress on the couch and heads towards my bed, where her clothes are sprawled out. She starts putting her clothes back on, and I take a seat on the couch, folding up the dress so I can fix it later.
“Do you know where I can get drugs?” I blurt out.
She stills, her head stuck through her shirt as she stands there, frozen in place, gaping at me. “What?”
I pull my lip between my teeth. “I was thinking.” I start. “I wanted to have the college experience that other people have, and that includes experimenting with new things.”
“And you want to do drugs?” she asks.
I nod. “Yeah. Have you done it before?”
She sits on my bed, sighing. “Yeah,” she admits. “Once or twice.”
“In college?”
She shakes her head. “In high school. Jake was always smoking, and he gave me some to try.” Her face falls a little at the mention of her ex-boyfriend.
“Did you like it?”
She scrunches her brows. “I don’t know. It just made me a little drowsy and hungry, I guess.” She shakes her head and pins me with a concerned stare. “What’s this about?”
I haven’t told her how humiliated I felt at the party when everyone practically gaped at me for not drinking to anything. I felt like an outsider, like I didn’t belong all over again.
“I never got to do anything like that,” I tell her. “You know how my mom was. I missed out on a lot.”
“I get it, Rosie, but drugs, really?”
I shrugged. “Nothing too dangerous,” I say. “Just a little weed or something.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” she says.
I tilt my head. “Talk about what?”
“About whatever it is you’re trying to escape from.”
I let out a scoff. She just heard what I’m trying to escape from. I want some excitement in my life before I’m subjected to a life where I’m planning cocktail parties with my country club buddies. “I’m not trying to escape,” I tell her. I don’t want to go into the details of my impending doom.
“Really?” she asks. “Because I never see you anymore, and you’ve been skipping class, and now you’re asking for drugs.” She exhales. “Is there anything going on?”
“I promise, nothing’s going on.” I bite my tongue. I feel bad for lying to her, not letting her in on what I’ve been doing and who I’ve been seeing. But we said this would be a secret, so I don’t want to break the spell of whatever it is we have. If I start to tell people, it’ll become real. They’ll ask questions about what we’re doing and what this means, and I don’t have the answers to that.
What even is my and Grayson’s relationship? Fuck buddies? We haven’t even had sex yet. Last night, he gave me two of the best orgasms of my life. But he left right after. He was hard; I could see it poking against the fabric of his jeans, and even though I didn’t know how to please him, I wanted to learn, I wanted to try. But instead, he helped me into the shower, gave me a kiss, and left. By the time I stepped out of my bathroom, he was gone, and the apartment was painfully silent.
I wanted him to stay a little longer, and maybe even stay the night, but he obviously didn’t want the same thing. I know he doesn’t want me to catch feelings, but I don’t think that will happen. I just like spending time with him.
“Yeah,” Leila says. “I think I can get some for you.”
I smile at my best friend. Grayson turned me down when I asked him for drugs. I’m not exactly sure why, but Leila was my next best option, and she’s willing to deliver.
