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Getty's night arrives in a tremendous affair of anticipation and weak knees.
By the time I had finally chosen a design and theme for my project and subsequent outfit for the event- because what makes a better promotion of your own skill than wearing your design and hardwork? - I had to crank down the weeks on a dry erase board and numerous caffeine-induced long nights to finish it all in time, as well as Bucky and Ross' pieces.
I didn't want to do a rush job, and I had planned to do a lot of things handmade, and a rush job is damning to a clean stitch, especially to the dress I had finished the final sketch for the final design that I wanted.
It took hell and high water, but it was done just in time. With a day to spare.
Unfortunately in that same day, Ross Beauchard deigned to throw me another wrench. Just to keep me on my toes. Keep it interesting.
"My darling."
"Oh no. What is it?"
I took off my reading glasses, an old, red pair all the way back from my high school days that I only use when I've started to strain my eyesight or need to read small texts. It's not the most glamorous, made of plastic too and made my face look as if I was still ten days from getting my driver's license especially when I'm bare faced, but it does the job.
"You didn't receive the clothes? They don't fit? The seams-"
"- the seams are perfect, I just said 'my darling', what is that instinct?" He laughed too fast and too forced. And the deflection. Come on.
I put down my dress, frowning as I flexed my fingers. "You only use the sickly sweetest of nicknames when you've done something you need me to prepare for. Something that will upset me. So what happened? Please just tell me."
"Okay, technically, I have both bad news and good news."
I released a long, tensed breath. "Okay... give it to me."
"Oranges or apples?"
"Ross."
"Sorry, sorry." He inhaled as if it hurt him. "I can't come with you to the Getty's."
My spine shot ramrod straight and I could physically feel all the blood rush in panic to my head. "-Ross Beauchard, I swear to the God you so fitfully pray to-"
"-but! But I got you a date to go with instead, I made a solution!"
"I don't want to go with a rando!"
"Esther Zhang is not a rando! Her mom sends you pics about their fatass cats and any new menu at the restaurant! Mai Zhang loves you in her very Buddha-fearing way!"
