Falling Fast

Chapter 29 - Apparently I slept with Alexander Grayson...?

His eyes instantly locked with mine, brown meeting grey. I froze for a moment, unable to breathe or even really think. But the sensation of being trapped quickly fled as I reasoned that his fiancée was probably looking at wedding dresses right now. I walked down the stairs holding the slightly too long dress up with one hand and keeping a hold of the banister with the other because it was just like me to fall over at this point.

He watched me, his gaze unwavering. He didn’t move when I got close to him and as he was standing on the same side of the stairs as me he was in the way. Even when I had to stop in front of him he didn’t move.

We stood like that for a few, silent moments.

“You didn’t design that dress,” he said.

“I’m helping a friend out. What are you doing here?” I asked. I had to look up at him a tiny bit even though he was stood a step below me. Had I not been in heels I would have been craning my neck.

“Doing talks for the university. The last one is after lunch, will you be there?”

“No.”

“Why not? I know you weren’t telling the truth last night.”

“I do have a lot of deadlines,” I said indignantly.

“But they’re not the reason you’re not in the talks. What’s the real reason?” he asked, his eyes beginning to light up because of the argument.

I didn’t want to react to it, but he was leaning forward a little and he’d always, always been a very sexy man. Now, with that glint in his eyes and his proximity, I couldn’t help my heart beating too fast or my breath threatening to turn shallow. I could smell his aftershave, something crisp and strong with the underlying scent of cold air, earth and old books. The scent that was his. Him. Natural and so, so needed. 

“That,” I said crisply, “is none of your business.” 

I walked calmly passed him.

Back in the classroom Camilla was sat on her desk quickly munching a sandwich. When she saw me she grinned and jumped up.

“How is it?” she asked.

We walked over to the other side of the huge room. One side was taken up by desks and work benches, the other had sewing stations. Every person in the class had a station each – there were twelve of us, but there were enough stations for the larger GCSE groups. There was a sewing machine, place to put a mannequin, a desk and plenty of space around it. In place of a mannequin was a dais. I put my uniform down on mine and Alexander’s bench which wasn’t far away and then stood on the dais.

“It’s a bit long,” I said.

Camilla shrugged. “You’re short.”

“I do have heels on you know.”

“And you’re still shorter than me,” she said. “Fits alright otherwise?”

“It fits like a glove and you know it.” I might have made the best coat in living memory, but Camilla was the queen of making clothes that fit perfectly the first time around.

She ran a hand through her long, brown hair and rolled her blouse sleeves up. How she was warm I had no idea. I had been wearing a cardigan as well as a long sleeve blouse and the blazer. She scrutinised me and moved the fabric of the skirt around a little and nearly put a couple of pins in, but then decided against it.

“Hey, Miss, do you mind if I get a head start?” Alexander asked from the door.

“Sure thing,” Mrs. Kemp said.