He studies the photo intently and then nods slowly. “This would probably work better for you onstage too. More air flow.” He looks up at me. “I still want the other fit, too, though. Could you do toiles for both?”
“Yes, of course. And I have some denim I want”—Deeanna walks in as I speak, and I hold out my hand to take the swatches—“Daria to give feedback on. Thank you, Dee.”
She steals a glance at Dorian, blushes to the roots of her hair, and mumbles something as she scurries out. That’s new—she’s usually very calm around our celebrity clients. Calla and I exchange a glance, and then she stands.
“Excuse me while I just check on something,” she says smoothly. Dee’s been great, but she is relatively new to us, and while we’re still in our growth phase, intern salary is lower than we’d like—barely above minimum wage. Sure, that’s higher in California than in a lot of other places, but it’s not enough that the potential for a tabloid payout wouldn’t be tempting.
I sit in the spot Calla vacated and offer Daria the pieces of denim. “See how these feel.”
She approves the first two but barely touches the third before she’s yanking her hand back. “Not that one.”
I tuck it into my pocket so there’s no chance of it getting mixed up with the others. “No problem,” I assure her. “What about the rest?”
By the time she’s given the remaining swatches the all clear, Calla’s back. “I was thinking, why don’t I take Daria to the storeroom? I have a few other ideas for fabrics that I didn’t think to bring out before.”
What? Before I can work out how to subtly ask her what’s going on, Daria chimes in, “Oooh, yeah. It’d be good if you had preapproved backup options, right?” She stands. “Come on, Dorian.”
Dorian looks bewildered but obediently follows them out.
I blink at their backs as they disappear through the door. Is Calla… If she’s trying to get me alone time with Griff, I’ll…
Seize the opportunity.
Twisting to face him, I smile ruefully and murmur, “Hi.”
His eyes search my face. “Hi. Are… I mean…”
“I’m okay,” I assure him. Heat climbs into my cheeks. “It was just… uh… It doesn’t usually happen that way.” How the fuck do I explain without admitting I want to climb into his lap and ride him until we’re both covered in sweat and cum?
“Did I do something to make you uncomfortable? I’m sorry if I did.”
I shake my head. “You didn’t.” Not unless existing in my space counts. “I’d rather not talk about it.” The words might seem abrupt, but talking about it is making my anxiety churn, and I’d rather not let it get to the point when I won’t be able to talk at all. I take a couple of measured, calming breaths, then ask, “Got any exciting plans for tonight?”
He still seems a little wary, like he thinks he’s done something wrong and doesn’t want to repeat it, but thankfully, he goes along with my change of subject. “Not unless you count watching TV with Vivi exciting. I was out with friends last night, and she was still sulking about it this morning.”
I grin. “Aww. Hopefully being home tonight will make her forgive you.”
“That’s the dream.” He hesitates. “Would… Do you want to meet her?”
Is he asking me to his place? My heartbeat picks up. “Meet the dog named after a design icon? Absolutely.”
A smile lights his face. “You could come over, if you want? Dinner won’t be anything fancy, just stir-fry, but I’m a decent cook. And Vivi would love the company.” He stops abruptly, then adds, “If you want. Don’t feel like you have to.”
Is he nervous? Happy butterflies burst into flight in my chest. If he really is into me, like my friends think, then it makes sense he might be nervous about asking me to go to his place for dinner. After all, this could be our first date.
Orrrrrr he could just be asking a friend to hang out. Until I’m sure either way, I need to play it chill.
If I’m even capable of that.
“I’d really like to,” I assure him and am gratified by the way his face lights up. “Can I bring anything?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. Oh… I should probably tell you, there won’t be meat with dinner. I’m a vegetarian. So if that’s a problem?—”
I wave him off. “Why would it be a problem? Who even eats meat for every meal?” There have been whole weeks I’ve eaten vegetarian without intending to, just because the food choices I made happened to not have meat in them. Do I still love bacon? Always. Do I require meat as part of every dish? Nope. “But I can’t not bring anything. What if I get dessert? Are you just vegetarian, or vegan?”
“Vegetarian,” he says. “Okay. This is great. I’ll, uh, text you the address. Is seven good for you?”
My smile feels like it’s taken over my face. “Perfect.”
