“We weren’t speaking about love,” I call after him.
“We weren’t?” he asks harmlessly, turning to face me with a smile. “My mistake.” He twirls away, and I shake my head as I face Matt. As per usual, he waits for me to speak first. I look around aimlessly before I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Fine weather we’re having. And the state of the roads seems very—road-like.”
Matt pauses. “Did you just comment on the state of the roads? Are you making period-drama small talk with me?”
How and why does he know that?
“What?” I ask incredulously. “No. Why on earth would I do that?”
“I would assume it’s because you and I got carried away last night and now you’re going to be jumpy and awkward whenever I’m around.”
It’s time for me to speak honestly or to continue rambling.
Easiest decision I’ve ever made.
“Well, that is categorically untrue, and you should be ashamed of yourself for making such an outrageous accusation. You, sir, are out of bounds.”
“Okay,” he says with a chuckle. “Well, point proven. Also, just so you know, things don’t have to be weird between us. What happened last night was just a week’s worth of pent-up animosity that played out in a natural, enjoyable way.”
I nod and avoid any and all eye contact. “Sounds good. Glad to hear it.”
Matt doesn’t answer. I ultimately cave and glance over at him, and he’s waiting for me with a knowing smirk. “If you didn’t want it to happen again, I don’t think you’d be this nervous.”
“I’m not nervous,” I counter. “I just don’t think we should be making suggestive little innuendos during my business hours.”
“Fair enough,” he says, taking a step closer to me. Now only a foot away. “Maybe I’ll see you later, then.”
I shouldn’t look up at him, but I do, and almost immediately my willpower begins to crumble. I’m letting myself get caught up in his web. Damn him. Damn him and his seductive one-liners straight to hell. Why did we ever agree to be civil? I should have let him stay mean. Anything would have been better than this.
“I really can’t stand you,” I tell him.
That only makes him smile more. Leaning in, he says, “The feeling is mutual.”
He kisses me on the cheek before he turns to walk away, and I’m left utterly defeated and unmistakably turned on as I watch him go. He’s halfway down the block when Holly skips out of the hotel and joins me on the sidewalk.
“Hey,” she says through a happy breathlessness. “Are you good?”
I take a deep inhale and do everything I can to clear my head as I turn to her with a big smile. “Yup. I’m fine.”
And I am. I really am. As long as being impulsive, reckless and making consistently self-sabotaging romantic choices is synonymous withfine, then it’s entirely true.
I am totally, totally fine.
11
The next week goes by in a blur. There always seems to be a million things to do at the internship, and Marco, Holly and I stay late most days. Our Instagram photo success increased our street cred around the office significantly, and a photo of Holly at the Colosseum was one of the company’s most liked posts of the summer. Lorenzo took the three of us out to lunch yesterday to celebrate and let us pick his brain with any industry questions we had, which wound up being limitless.
Subsequently, each of us has been given more responsibility, thus leading to our working late nights and then catapulting our near-lifeless bodies into bed the second we get home. I’ve barely had a coherent conversation with Matt, let alone had a repeat of our scandalous workroom make-out. I actually fell asleep midsentence one time when he came to my room to ask if I wanted a snack. It should also be noted that he was offering prosciutto and mozzarella, so there’s no greater proof that I was truly a shell of my former self.
Still, the internship is better than I ever imagined. Not only have I assisted in the atelier multiple times, but I also got to sit in on meetings with the e-com, sales and finance teams. I even got to spend one morning assisting Lorenzo with a myriad of different managing tasks. While it’s always great to spend time engulfed in the artistic aspect of fashion design, it’s also imperative to expand your understanding of the business side.
Today is a far less glamorous day, as my main assignment has been to clean and organize the storage closet, which is mainly filled with old samples and random boxes of files that were long since abandoned. I have a system going, but I’m nowhere near done. At the moment I’m partially buried alive under a vintage tulle skirt, looking for the care label, when there’s a knock on the door. I dig my way out from under the layers of fabric to find Mira glancing down at me.
“Can you breathe under there?” she asks with a chuckle.
“I’m managing,” I reply, bringing myself up to a standing position. “Though, I can think of far worse ways to go than being consumed by a designer gown.”
“I’m not sure many would agree with you about that, but I appreciate your dedication nonetheless.”
