The Virginity Pact

11 - fashions not forever

What would Fashion Week be without a fashion victim? Looks like H just started her own trend: wearing a bullseye on her back.

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Without Lydia and the girls, without Ainsley, and without Holden, I've been totally alone. Lydia and the girls didn't want anything to do with me. I don't want anything to do with Holden or Ainsley.

I'm completely friendless.

Well, not completely. I have Elijah, but cousins don't count. And I now I guess I have Tyler.

Tyler holds the door for me as we exit the restaurant. Lunch was actually pretty great. He's funny and smart and attractive. I giggle stupidly at something he says as we walk down the sidewalk together.

"No, but seriously," he says. "I think you'll have a lot of fun. You get your makeup and hair done, you get to wear nice clothes, and everyone's looking at you. Those are all the things girls like, right?" He teases.

I shrug smiling. "I guess so. I'm just nervous. There's so many people that are going to be there," I shudder. I begin to wish Holden was more like Tyler. I wish I could talk to him now and ask him for advice. That's what he's supposed to be here for, but instead he's just an inconsistent headache.

"What if I fall? What if my dress slips? What if--"

"Harper," Tyler cuts me off, chuckling as we turn the corner. "Relax. You'll do great."

I take a deep breath and smile at him. We walk in silence for a minute until he breaks it with a question.

"Have you, um, have you spoken to Holden?"

A weird feeling washes over me hearing Holden's name and thinking about what happened between Holden and I 4 days ago.

Anger? Hurt?

"No," I say blankly, and it's silent again.

It's hard not talking to him since he seems to be everywhere--school, work, the coffee shop on 42nd street--I can't escape him, but I sure as hell can ignore him. We've been doing a good job ignoring each other's presence and avoiding eye contact for the most part.

We arrive at Bryant Park, where I've been instructed to by Salima's assistant for first rehearsal.

White tents were sprung up all throughout Bryant Park, being the place New York's very coveted fashion week would be held.

"Thanks for lunch," I smile at Tyler.

"No problem."

It takes me a second to find Salima's tent. But when I do, I'm bombarded by her assistant, Alaska, who whisks me away over to the other models.

Most of them I don't know. A few I'm 100% sure I've seen before in magazines and Victoria's Secret campaigns.

And a couple I know all too well.

Lydia, Ainsley, Becca, Alejandra, and 2 more of Lydia's followers catch my attention. Ainsley and Lydia stand with the other models, while the other girls sit a few feet away in chairs facing the runway, guest passes around their necks.

They whisper to each other with their eyes on me, and I get a flashback to cotillion. It seems like forever ago, and somehow I'm still in the same popularity boat. The party wasn't enough to be put me on top, or at least close to Lydia, so this show has to be flawless. I have to be flawless.

Ainsley looks at me and gives me the same sad, pathetic look she has been since I stopped talking to her after she stole my costume, reunited with Lydia, and slept with Jake.