By the time I'd arranged for everything to be delivered to Vivienne Friday afternoon, along with a hair and makeup artist I trusted implicitly, it was nearly dawn on Friday. I finally allowed myself to collapse on the couch in my office, my phone set to silent, my body surrendering to exhaustion.
I slept the sleep of the dead, dreaming of emerald silk and golden skin, of Vivienne in my creation, of the moment she would see herself as I saw her—absolutely extraordinary.
8
Vivienne
Friday morning arrived gray and drizzling, matching my mood as I sat in my empty classroom, staring at my phone for the hundredth time that week. Still nothing from Julian beyond the brief, almost cold responses he'd been sending since Tuesday.
Not today, sorry. Looking forward to Friday.
The same message, or variations of it, every time I'd tried to reach out. I'd started the week excited, texting him about little things—a funny comment from one of my students, a question about the gallery opening, just wanting to connect after the intensity of Monday night at his studio. But his responses had grown shorter, more distant, until I'd stopped trying altogether yesterday.
I picked up my phone again, scrolling through our text thread with growing embarrassment. There were my messages, bright and chatty, met with his terse replies. I looked like someone desperately trying to get attention from a man who clearly wasn't interested.
What am I doing?I thought, finally setting the phone face-down on my desk.Maybe Lydia was wrong. Maybe he's just not that into me.
The thought made my stomach clench with disappointment and something deeper—humiliation. I'd let myself believe that what happened between us meant something, that the way he'd looked at me, touched me, measured me with such careful attention, had been about more than just professional courtesy.
But maybe that's all it was. Maybe I was just another woman he was dressing for an event, no different from all those models I'd seen in the photos online.
My phone buzzed, and my heart leaped with excitement only to be dashed a moment later. It was just Lydia.
Lydia:How are you feeling about tonight? Excited?
I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. How could I explain that I was considering not going at all? That the man who'd seemed so interested in me had essentially ghosted me all week?
Vivienne:Honestly? I'm thinking about skipping it.
Not even a minute later I hear loud hurried footsteps outside my classroom hall before an out of breath Lydia yanks open my classroom door causing me to jolt in my seat.
"What do you mean, skipping it?" Lydia's voice was sharp with disbelief. "Vivienne, he's designing you a custom outfit for this thing. You can't just not show up."
"He's barely spoken to me all week, Lydia. I think I misread the situation."
"Or," Lydia said firmly, slamming her hand on my desk, "He's been busy creating something amazing for you and didn't want to be distracted. Seriously, Viv, you're overthinking this. The man spent his Monday night taking your measurements. If he wasn't interested, he would have given you something off the rack. Actually," Lydia corrected herself, "He wouldn't be giving you anything at all if he wasn't interested."
I wanted to believe her, but the lackluster responses from Julian felt too pointed, too deliberate. "Maybe I should just text him and say I'm sick."
"Vivienne Ellis, if you bail on this, I will personally drive to your house and drag you to that gallery myself. You're going. End of discussion."
I rolled my eyes, "Aren't you supposed to be getting ready for your class in twenty minutes?"
"Aren't you supposed to be out of here already?" Lydia shot back. "Your Friday classes are over by noon so you can get a head start and grade all those papers. Stop wasting time, it's,” she looked at her watch, “One twenty already. Use some of that extra time to shave your legs and get ready for tonight."
A startled laugh came from my lips before I got up to thank and hug Lydia.
After Lydia was done lecturing me and waltzed off to her next class, I sat alone in my classroom, watching the rain streak down the windows. My students had been dismissed an hour ago—one of the perks of the Friday schedule—and I had the rest of the afternoon to either get ready for an evening that might be magical or might be a complete disaster.
I was just gathering my things to leave when my phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number.
Delivery for Ms. Ellis scheduled for 2 PM. Please confirm you'll be available to sign.
I frowned at the message. I wasn't expecting anything, and I definitely hadn't ordered anything that required a signature. But I texted back my confirmation and headed home, curiosity temporarily overriding my anxiety about Julian.
At exactly 2 p.m., my doorbell rang. Through the peephole, I could see a delivery man holding an enormous white box tied with what looked like emerald green ribbon.
"Vivienne Ellis?" He asked when I opened the door.
