She’s completely lost in her own world.
She’s wearing a skin-tight, ankle-length dress that hugs her perfect figure. Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail by a hot pink bow, and I find myself drawn to the graceful curve of her neck.
She starts swaying her hips from left to right, completely unaware of my presence. I can’t help but smile, captivated by the way she moves as her laughter mixes with the music. It’s intoxicating. For a moment, I forget about everything else screaming at me not to do it.
Once more, I tell myself that this is just initial interest. It will pass soon.
It has to.
Iwake up to the warm rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains, bathing the room in a golden hue. It’s one of those mornings where everything feels perfect, like a scene straight out of a movie, minus the dramatic soundtrack and the inevitable disaster lurking around the corner. I stretch out on the impossibly soft bed, sinking into the luxurious linens as if they were made just for me. I half-expect a butler to show up with a tray of breakfast just for waking up this well-rested.
Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, I realize I’ve been asleep for over five hours, despite having slept through the entire flight. This bed is magic, I could stay in here forever.
The room itself is just as breathtaking, with sleek marble floors that probably cost more than my tuition and an ensuite bathroom that feels more like a personal spa than anything else. The deep soaking tub is practicallywhispering my name, begging me to abandon all dignity and float in blissful relaxation.
I reluctantly roll out of bed and wander into the bathroom, my bare feet making soft sounds on the cool marble floor. After turning on the water, I slip out of my pajamas and sink into the warm, bubbling water. As soon as I immerse myself, the tension that has been knotted in my shoulders for days begins to melt away. It’s blissful, almost meditative. For the first time in a long time, my mind feels clear and free.
As I relax, ideas start flowing like the warm water around me: visions of lace, silk, and the perfect silhouette for Abby’s wedding dress. She asked me to design it for her, and of course I jumped at the opportunity. Not just because it’s for Abby, who deserves all the happiness in the world, but because it’s my chance to channel my inner designer. I’ve always dreamed of making a wedding dress, and now, the prospect feels exhilarating.
I close my eyes, envisioning the fabric gliding through my fingers as I sketch out the design. The image of a timeless gown takes shape in my mind: delicate lace cascading over the bodice, a flowing train that will sweep gracefully behind her. I can almost see Abby’s face lighting up when she sees it, the joy and excitement radiating from her.
After soaking in the tub until my fingers are wrinkled, I step out and wrap myself in a towel. The cool air feels refreshing after the warmth of the water, and for a second, I just take it in.
Once I’m dry, I pull on a simple black slim-fit spaghetti strap dress, one that hugs my curves just right, opting for a bralette instead of a bra since this dress doesn’t need one anyway.
I grab my camera and makeup kit. I set up at the vanity table in the bathroom—because yes, this bathroom has itsown vanity table—adjusting the angle of the camera until it’s just right. It’s time to film a Get Ready With Me video for my YouTube channel, 600k subscribers and growing, which still feels a little unreal. I love these casual chats while doing my makeup; it feels like catching up with friends.
“Guys, you’re never going to guess where I currently am,” I announce with a bright smile. It’s a sincere one. It’s still hard to believe my sister gets to live in a place like this. And if I get to stay in this room every time I visit, then I suppose that coming around more often wouldn’t be the worst idea. “I’m staying at my sister’s place. I’m designing her wedding dress. While I can’t show you what it’s going to look like, I most certainly can give you a few hints…” I trail off, and then the speech just flows by instinct. I’ve been doing this for a while, and it feels natural, like I’m talking to a friend. Actually, six hundred thousand of them.
I decide to edit the video later. I grab my iPad and settle at the small writing desk by the window. The view outside is breathtaking, a panorama of the city stretching out in all directions, but my attention quickly shifts back to the screen in front of me. The inspiration from my soak still lingers, and I waste no time diving into the designs for Abby’s dress.
My fingers glide across the screen, tracing each line with precision. The bodice, fitted and elegant, flows effortlessly into a skirt that billows like a cloud, with layers of delicate lace. The dress begins to come alive in digital form, each detail etched out with care. A hint of sparkle along the edges, a long train trailing behind, it’s everything I envisioned while soaking in the tub.
I lose track of time, completely immersed in the creative process. Ideas flow so naturally that I barely notice the hours slipping away. I make a list of the materials I’ll need—fine silk, embroidered lace, satin ribbons—and note down a fewlocal vendors who might have just the right textures I’m looking for. It’s only when my stomach growls that I realize how long it’s been since I last ate.
I pause, leaning back in the chair and stretching. I haven’t eaten since the airplane, and my body is clearly reminding me. Glancing around the room, I remember Abby mentioning she’d be out for a while. It’s odd. She wanted us to spend time together, yet the day after my arrival she’s already out, doing her own thing.Typical Abby.
Tucking my iPad under my arm, I make my way to the kitchen. As I enter the room, it’s too quiet. The space is immaculate, with high-end appliances gleaming under the soft lighting. I scan the area, noting that Calvin is probably not home, just like she said. Apparently, he’s barely around due to work. Shrugging, I open the fridge and grab some eggs, vegetables, and butter. Deciding on a simple omelet, I search for a pan and get to work. With Adele’sWater Under the Bridgeplaying softly on my phone, I start chopping and sautéing, swaying my hips to the beat. Cooking always relaxes me, and I lose myself in the rhythm of it, completely unaware of my surroundings.
“You know we have a chef who could make anything you want,” a deep voice echoes across the kitchen. I startle so hard I drop the spatula before turning around and coming face to face with Calvin.
God, for a moment there I forgot how beautiful this man is.
That does very little to soothe my racing heart, though. For a moment, I thought he was a burglar.
“Fuck!” I exclaim. I quickly turn off the music, transferring the finished omelet onto a plate. “Y-you scared the shit out of me,” I stammer, still feeling my pulse in my ears.Calvin just stands there, arms crossed, dressed in a well-tailored suit that hugs his broad shoulders.
A handsome smirk plays on his lips, and his eyes twinkle with amusement. A small silence stretches between us, and I wish I could disappear from the face of the earth. I’ve only known him for a day, and I’ve already managed to make a fool of myself. “Hmm,” he says. “You’re not a bad dancer, by the way.”
Heat floods my cheeks, and I quickly busy myself with cleaning up. “Thanks,” I mutter, trying to recover from the embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just … wanted to make something for myself.”
“If you enjoy cooking, then by all means,” he says, taking a seat on one of the barstools. “But this is all from an omelet?” He gestures to the mess I made, eggshells, seasonings, and utensils strewn across the counters.
I laugh nervously, glancing around. “Yeah, I can be a bit messy when I cook. Sorry about that.” Actually, I tend to be messy when I do anything, but he doesn’t need to know that. “But I’m going to clean it up.”
He laughs, this deep, rich sound that sends a shiver down my spine. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad someone’s using this kitchen for once.” His eyes land on my iPad, lying open on the counter. “What’s this?” he asks, picking it up before I can stop him. His eyes widen slightly as he scans through the sketches. “You drew these?” It’s odd that he takes any interest in anything I do. That’s the single thought that crosses my mind before panic sets in.
“Oh god, no, no!” I rush over, trying to grab it from him, but he easily holds it out of reach. The look on his face shows he has no intention of handing the iPad back until he gets what he wants. Is that the kind of man he usually is?
