Page 113 of Say It Isn't So

Walking through Central Park with Rina, I pushed all those thoughts aside and turned my attention back to our date.

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” I confessed as we continued walking. The last time I’d walked through the park was probably when we’d first moved to the city.

Rina had liked coming out here. So today it had felt like as good a place as any for our date.

She looked down at our hands on the sides of us. “I want to hold your hand,” she said, looking up at me as though waiting for my permission. It was the first time she’d verbalized such a desire.

In all our time together this time around, we’d never been physical. We’d always stayed in our lanes, our hands never even brushing. No urges to touch her, hold her. No kisses. Nothing.

I felt bad, it shouldn’t have been this way, but if I was being honest, as easy as things could be with Rina, they were also awkward. Like this moment where she’d had to say she wanted to hold my hand.

Not that I let any of that stop me from giving her what she wanted. I forewent addressing her comment and took her hand in mine, lacing our fingers together.

“Much better.” She smiled.

I didn’t share the sentiment, but didn’t pull back, either.

We went minutes without talking until finally I broke the silence. “Are you going to London for Men’s Spring/Summer?”

She gasped. “Why, of course! I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Are you going to go to all of them?”

“Absolutely! Stefan,” she paused. “You remember my mentor, right?”

I nodded.

She went on, saying, “He’d always told me to attend all the fashion weeks so that I could get a better idea of the industry and the competition. Also, trends”—she held up a finger—“those are important to see firsthand.”

I nodded. “I didn’t know you were doing men’s clothing. Do you see all of the other designers as competition?”

She tucked a lock of her red hair behind her ear and shook my hand that was holding hers. “Do you mind if we stop holding hands? I thought I liked this, but yours are slightly calloused like you work outdoors all day, and the texture is driving me up a wall.”

I cocked a brow, but dropped her hand as she wanted, decidedly ignoring the new judgment I was getting from her. Not sure what to do with my hands, I thrusted them in my pockets. I hated to admit it, but it was like I couldn’t win for losing with her.

“What we were talking about?” she asked, shaking her head.

Refreshing her memory, I replied, “Competition,” and sighed.

“Oh, right.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “Yes, every other designer is competition. I mean, how can they not be. They’re quite literally making clothes just like me and trying to gain the population’s attention and get them to hand over their hard-earned money.”

That was a cynical way of looking at it. “I buy clothes from a lot of different stores and brands. I believe most people do. I’m sure there’s a place for everyone.”

“Say that to the designers that flop after a couple of years and go back to a boring desk job.” She rolled her lips. “That, honey, will never be me. I’m not going to be a failure, a loser story that everyone talks about with pity in their voice and frowns on their faces.”

Not sure what to say, I nodded.

“Oh, poor Rina Levana, she tried so hard, but got nowhere fast. She didn’t leave a mark and soon she’ll be nothing more than a memory,” she said in a low voice full of mockery of someone who I assumed she thought would be from the media.

I cleared my throat. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think you’ve already done a great job making a name for yourself.” Couldn’t she see that? When was good enough for Rina?

“Yeah, for today, but what about tomorrow? I have to keep one-upping myself. It’s the way of this industry.” She bumped into the side of my body purposefully. “You should know that.”

Maybe I should have, but I didn’t believe what she said to be true. I didn’t like the idea of seeing everyone as competition because who did that leave you to befriend? It wasn’t a healthy way to look at the world and as much as Rina seemed to want to convince me it was the only way, I wasn’t changing my point of view.

I angled my head toward the carousel we were coming up to. “That carousel holds some memories for us, doesn’t it?” I asked, trying to change the topic now.

Maybe we needed to focus on the things we did see eye to eye on. When us being together made sense. Perhaps that would help us move forward. I didn’t know how, but that was the only plan I had at this point.

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