I was practically skipping by the time I walked through the front door of my flat. Despite it being nearly midnight, my roommates were all crowded around the television watching a horror movie on Netflix with French subtitles for Chantel. One of the major things I had to adjust to when I first moved to Paris was how late people stayed up and consequently how late they slept in. Most businesses didn't even open until around ten A.M.
"Someone's in a good mood..." Chantel raised a strawberry blonde eyebrow in my direction.
"Seriously, what gives?" Rox asked, glancing up from her steamy sexting exchange with her boyfriend Mike long enough to take in my flushed cheeks.
"I have news." I said, flinging my purse onto the pale pink beanbag chair in the corner. It was funny how over the past year we all had our assigned seats. Rox and Fi always perched on the tweed oatmeal couch, Chantel on the sapphire velvet arm chair, and me sinking deep in the pale pink beanbag chair.
"But first, Fi how was Fendi?!" I asked a little surprised she was already showered and changed into comfy clothes, and not out at some elaborate after party. Paris Fashion Week was known for it's parties.
"It was good. I loved my dress, it was this heavy black and silver beaded number, and I walked somewhere in the middle with this huge fake bird thing sticking out of the side of my head."
"Cool." I shrugged out of my pea coat and hung it on the hook in the corner of the room. "I figured you'd be at their after party..."
"Fuck that. I'm tired." She giggled, not including the fact that this was her third show already this week. At least she pitied me some. Chantel would've openly bragged in her unintentionally tactless way. "Plus Cara was walking too."
"Bitch." The collective expletive hissed across the room.
"Ooooh..." I laughed, accepting the glass of white wine Rox offered me. Cara Calloway was the supermodel of the moment. The girl that dated all the famous men and closed all the best shows, all while looking overwhelmingly bored doing so. Rumor had it she was downright nasty and vindictive backstage, not that I would know. I hadn't walked any shows to find out. Any shows...yet. My mind snapped back to the business card slightly crumpled in my palm.
"Well...guess who booked her first show tonight..." I teased and they were all on their feet in a heartbeat.
"You didn't!" Rox screamed.
"Alexander Wang?! About time!" Fi shrieked.
"Congratulations!" Chantel said as enthusiastically as she could.
I took turns hugging each of them, pulling back to explain my time at the gardens and meeting my fashion fairy godmother. I left out select details, mainly including the croissant. I knew a room full of models would not be supportive of me shoving my face with anything including butter and carbs.
"So whose show is it?" Rox asked, taking a generous gulp of her own glass of white wine. I knew her show with Michael Kors was tomorrow and made her almost as nervous as Mike seeing her walk in it.
"I honestly don't know..." I admitted, biting my lip as the thin blonde girl was being murdered in the horror movie on the television.
"What do you mean you don't know?" Chantel raised an eyebrow, ignoring the screaming on the screen.
"She just told me to be in hair and makeup around five tomorrow and wrote down the address on her business card." I held out the card to Chantel, and Fiona and Rox were quick to crowd around her to read it.
"You can't be serious...." Fiona plucked the card from Chantel's thin fingers. "Seriously. Holy shit!" She screamed louder than the girl on the screen and I jumped a little.
YOU ARE READING
The Sweetest Summer
Romance**COMPLETE** Elijah West was everything, and I was just...Avery Adams. The tomboy, the girl next door, the friend zone occupant. The girl who somehow grew up while he was gone filming his television show. But this summer he's back, and the sparks a...
