A Perfect Fit

4

Isabelle

I glance at the little red 'publish' button in the bottom right corner of my computer screen, my heart rate speeding up.

You can do this. You've got this.

Taking a deep breath, I do another quick check of the preview on my screen, and then hit publish.

A confirmation message from Eventbrite pops up informing me that my event has been successfully published, and I let out a relieved breath.

Then, I'm staring at my computer screen grinning like an idiot.

This is only the beginning.

This year, I decided to take a leap of faith and host my own small-scale fashion show event as part of the upcoming New York Fashion Week, which is now less than seven months away. Whilst it's not part of the 'official' NYFW proceedings per se, I couldn't be more excited. It's always been a dream of mine to host my own fashion show, and the mere thought that I'm one step closer to achieving that dream now is enough to cause tingles all over my body.

Truthfully, I'd been deliberating on whether to wait a few more years to do it but after a few motivational quotes on Pinterest, calls with my accountant about budgeting, and TED-worthy speeches from Jen, here we are. Hopefully, my flea markets booth can also serve as a marketing channel for the event.

Glancing at the mile-long to-do list in front of me, the only items I've ticked off so far are locking in a date and time, booking the event venue, and publishing the event online. With my budget, I managed to hire a cute warehouse in Manhattan for the night; it's not the largest space but it's a nice, modern setup with enough space for me to set up a runway and chairs on either side. Aside from that, there's still a ton of logistics left like finalizing my designs, booking models, finding a photographer, putting together a playlist, and so on. I know I still have plenty of time, but I want to look back on it and be proud that I put in my all.

I open up Instagram on my phone and am about to switch to my business account to do a marketing post for my event when something at the top of my feed catches my eye. It's a graphic post by Lydia Walsh (one of Cherrybrooke High's school captains in the year I graduated), plastered with the words 'Cherrybrooke High Reunion' in large red block letters.

A high school reunion? This was a first.

Curiosity gets the better of me and I click on the post to read about the event details, before scrolling through the comments. The one from Aaron tagging Jackson's Instagram handle stands out: "Just in time for Jackson's arrival back in town *crown emoji*".

I suppress an eye-roll. Jackson technically didn't even graduate from Cherrybrooke High since he moved to London for boarding school in junior year. It wasn't really something anyone at Cherrybrooke High had seen coming. 

My gaze drifts to his Instagram handle again and curiosity bubbles up in my stomach. Don't do it. Don't be tempted. Don't give in to the temptation. Don't let the temptation get to you. Don't.

My finger betrays me and promptly taps on his Instagram handle.

So much for not giving in to the temptation.

The majority of his pictures are various group photos from his time in London and in true Jackson Carter style, he's wearing a suit in most of them. There are also several architectural-type photos I'm assuming he took. I didn't realize he liked architecture and photography, although based on his pictures, he certainly has a good eye for detail.

As I scroll down to his older posts, I notice that there's only one photo of his time at Cherrybrooke High—a smiling shot of him at one of our school's debate tournaments. Interesting. I remember stalking his Instagram back when we were in high school (for research purposes) and he definitely had way more posts then, meaning he must have deleted the majority of his pictures relating to Cherrybrooke High. I stare at the debating photo closely, wondering why this one made the cut, and that's when I notice something else.