Jocelyn gives me a thumbs up from across the prep area.
“You’re a smash,” she mouths, smiling.
I am. The show is, rather.
I’m not a flash in the pan. I’m the real deal.
So why do I feel like crying?
Daws returns from his trip down the runway and his eyes are on me immediately. He doesn’t seem to give a shiny shoot that he just rocked Fashion Week and maybe even changed the entire industry. But it hurts to look at him when I love him and where we stand is so uncertain. So I focus on what I’m doing. Putting last-second touches on models and sending them out one by one. Maybe everything will be clear once I’m done with the show.
But when I look up again, Daws is surrounded by men and women in smart suits. They’re handing him business cards and peppering him with questions. He doesn’t seem to know how to respond, his hand rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck.
“What’s going on over there?” I ask Jocelyn. “Is Daws okay?”
She snorts. “He’s great. Every modeling agency in attendance wants to sign him. There’s no accounting for taste, I guess.”
My back goes up. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Jocelyn settles a firm hand on my shoulder. “It means he’s just another man riding on your coattails. Using you. Just like what happened on the reality show.”
My stomach drops. “What? No. Daws wouldn’t do that.”
She gives me a sympathetic head tilt. “Did you think the last guy would?”
No. No, I’d been so sure he was interested in me. Not my talent or how far I could get him in the competition. While all the time, he’d just been scheming. And Daws…
I watch him accept a business card and nod at whatever the man is saying to him.
I gave him every chance to ask me out. To confess his feelings. And he didn’t.
Did he see me as nothing more than a good opportunity?
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I went out and found him. Not the other way around.”
“Yeah, I’m shocked he agreed to help. Shocked, I tell you,” Jocelyn says, sarcasm lacing her tone. “You’re beautiful, Parker. There isn’t a guy alive who wouldn’t jump at the chance to be alone with you. Maybe he wasn’t using you for a modeling contract. Maybe he used you for sex instead. But the motivation is the same. Greed.” She nods at Daws and his bevy of admirers. “And whether or not he wanted a contract in the beginning, he looks like he’s happy to take it now.”
Is he?
Was I just a hookup to him?
Men and women have sex all the time and don’t enter into a relationship.
What made me think we were different?
A sharp ache takes up residence in the center of my chest and I gulp a breath of air, rubbing at the painful spot. I think my heart is breaking.
“It’s your turn.” Jocelyn pushes me toward the stage entrance. “Go out and accept those accolades. We earned them!”
Having no choice, I walk out on stage to a standing ovation. And when I reach the end of the runway, I hop off the end and keep right on walking.
Daws
Where the hell is Parker?
These goddamn people won’t leave me alone and I don’t like how pale Parker turned when she was talking to her friend. There is something wrong and I need to find her, talk to her, tell her I love her. I’ve made a huge mistake by waiting. I know it in my bones.
“Excuse me,” I growl at the people around me, pushing yet another business card out of my face and approaching Jocelyn. “Where’s Parker? She hasn’t come back yet?”
“No. And I’m sure she’ll be busy for a while. Schmoozing, making plans with people…more on her level. After all, she’s just pulled off the show of the season.”
Ignoring her intended slight, pride infuses my chest. “Oh good,” I breathe, relieved. “I thought it went well, but I wasn’t sure. I’ve never been to one of these things before.”
“Shocking.” She turns to face me and lowers her voice. “Look, buddy. You might have gotten away with one good show, but the novelty will wear off. Parker is a brand. A fashion brand. And you don’t fit into it—no pun intended.”
I keep my voice measured, even though I worry there’s some truth to what she’s saying. I stick out like a sore thumb in this place. Among these people. “Like I said, Parker can decide for herself.”
“No, she can’t. She’s too freaking nice for this business. That’s why she has me. To make the hard decisions when she can’t.” She gives me a disgusted once-over. “We’re on our way up. Me. And Parker. There’s no room for anyone else.”
I think of how Parker has been avoiding my eyes all afternoon and my gut clenches. “Did she say she wanted me gone?”
Jocelyn considers lying. I can see it in her calculating expression. “She won’t,” the girl says finally. “Like I said, she’s too nice to do what’s best for herself.”
And what’s best for her is not being with me.
I don’t want to believe it’s true and I fight the urge to give in to the doubt. There is something real between us, isn’t there? I didn’t imagine our connection, even though our time together seemed like a fantasy. But when Parker never comes back, even after I’ve been backstage waiting for an hour, I’m forced to accept that my luck has run out.
Still wearing the suit Parker made for me, I dodge a few greedy-eyed talent agents and leave the venue. I don’t want to go home to my apartment downtown, so I walk. I walk through the city until it gets dark and I circle back, moving restlessly. Without direction. I’m not sure where I’m heading until I get there. The High Line.
Was it really only this morning I held Parker in my arms here?
Kissed her?
Took her virginity?
I know I should be grateful for the time I was given with the most perfect woman on the face of the earth, but my goddamn heart won’t stop searching for her. Missing her. I’m never going to be the same. All I can hope for is that she’ll be happy.
My thoughts trail off when I see her.
Up ahead.
She’s leaning against the rail, looking out over the Hudson, the moonlight bathing her beautiful face. I’m arrested in place, overcome by the angelic sight of her.
Then I see the tears. I hear her sobbing.
And the night shatters around me.
“Parker,” I rasp, striding toward her, taking her by the shoulders and turning her toward me to check if she’s injured. When I find her whole and healthy, I draw her up against my chest. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she says hastily, swiping at her eyes. “I’m fine.”
“The hell you are. Talk to me.”
She buries her nose in the center of my chest and my heart flops over. “I know I shouldn’t be upset at you for just…for wanting to keep things casual.” She hiccups, her tears soaking the front of my shirt. “It’s normal—healthy, even!—to seek out no-strings sex. People do it all the time. But I thought…I thought maybe we weren’t so casual. And I went and got attached to you. And I think it’s great that you’re going to be a professional m-model now—”