Torah.

Chapter Four

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"I hope you step on a lego!" Another Hispanic designer yelled at a model who was walking out of our old tent.

We had to pass through the tent to get to the crime scene, seeing as all other entrances were blocked by police tape. That meant treading the minefield of stressed designers, bitchy models and make up galore. I turned back to see Roy chatting up a model. Bloody Roy. I grabbed his arm and yanked him away from the girl.

"Come on, this is a serious mission," I scolded.

"Fine. Fine."

I spotted Luciana getting her hair done. She must be modeling for another company. We almost made it to the other side of the tent when I heard my name being called by an unfamiliar voice.

"Torah Green!?" It screeched.

So close!

I cringed and turned, facing a spray-tanned male designer.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"It is you? Oh my gosh! It's you!" He yelled.

Who the hell is this crazy man!?

"Ahem," he cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"No worries," I nodded.

"Let me introduce myself. I am Stefan-"

"Hey, I know you!" I cut him off.

"You do? She does. She knows me!" He muttered, jumping from foot to foot.

"Yeah, you're the head of Joie de Vivre, aren't you?" I asked.

"Yes!" he squealed with excitement. "It's such a pleasure to meet you, Miss Green!"

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Don't you know? You're the next big thing!"

"Wow," I breathed. "Anyway, I have to go."

"Oh, okay. Goodbye Miss Green!"

"Call me Torah," I managed to call back as I pulled Roy to the back of the tent.

"Who was he?" Roy asked as we crawled under the back of the tent.

"Stefan someone-or-other. He's the head of Joie de Vivre, which is our rival fashion company."

"Joie de what?"

"It means full of life in French. I thought you would know, seeing as you speak French and all," I elbowed him in the ribs.

"Shuddup," he muttered.

As we observed the crime scene once again, I stuck my cold hands into my pockets and shivered violently. The French winter air pierced my skin as all the moisture in my skin crystallized. Noticing my coldness, Roy pulled me closer to him, unzipping his heavy winter jacket and stuffing me inside with him, before zipping it up again.

"You're freezing!" Roy yelped.

"You're warm," I replied, pushing myself closer to his body.

"I'm surprised that this jacket could fit both of us," he remarked.

"You calling me fat?" I joked.

A silence ensued, though not awkward. We stood, watching, thinking, waiting for something, not knowing what. My eyes were fixated on the grass, the small drops of dew, freezing in the cold climate. I pulled my beanie down further, so it covered more of my head and sniffled, sure that my cheeks were red and chilly.