Page 23 of Beauty
Either way, the way they meet in a soft dance reminds me of silky fabric, and suddenly, a design creates itself in my mind and I’m itching for a sketchpad so I can get it down before the details evaporate. I grab my phone from my clutch and power it on. Ignoring the slew of texts that flood in, I tap on the app I use when I don’t have a pad handy. Quickly, but with precision, I bring the image in my mind to life.
School was never easy for me. Even peopling takes effort, since I’ve always had a role to play. But this—drawing, envisioning, designing—is second nature. I can’t imagine what I’d do without it.
Feeling lighter than I have all day, I take a screenshot, then send the image to Cat. This way, I can all but guarantee she’ll have the fabric in Paris when I arrive. A design like this is too beautiful not to be shown off by a woman like her. No, it shouldbe shown off by Cat and Cat alone. There isn’t another woman in the world like her. She’sit. And she loves my designs.
I’m still pinching myself over that.
My phone buzzes almost immediately, so I slide my finger over the screen and accept the FaceTime request, expecting her to tease me about working while I’m on vacation.
When my brothers appear on the screen, I shift, ensuring they’ll see the sunset behind me rather than the hotel.
“Settle a debate for us,” Aiden, the youngest of my brothers, says. NoHi, noHow are you?
Maybe I don’t have to bother hiding where I am. At least not with Aiden. He’s barely paying attention.
At twenty-six, he’s still got a boyish look about him. I’m not sure he’ll ever grow out of it, honestly. It might be the way his hair curls at the ends or the permanent sparkle in his eyes and the smile he’s always wearing.
For a second, I find myself wondering what it’s like to always be that happy. I envy him for the way he can make even the worst days enjoyable. If I’m tired, he’ll break into a song about how it’s a bright sunshiny day, though he usually changes the lyrics to make them more fitting for the occasion. If I’m sad, I can always count on him to tell a joke or force me to my feet to dance.
“What’s the debate?” I find myself smiling. It’s hard not to with my happy-go-lucky brother.
“Thatdoesn’t match, correct?”
He squints at the screen, and a second later, the camera is flipped, and I’m looking at another man from the waist down. Like this, I can’t tell who it is. I almost don’t want to know anyway. All the men my brothers hang out with play hockey, and I’ve always kept myself far, far away from them.
Mostly because my brothers would kill me. But also because if I dated a man affiliated with the Bolts or the Revs, I’d neverknow whether he was interested in me or the connections he could make because of me.
Noah mentioned playing hockey. Does that mean he plays professionally? If so, that’s one more huge reason to avoid telling him my last name.
Though why would I even have the opportunity? The man has made it abundantly clear he’s not interested in me.
After the room swap today, I probably won’t see him again anyway.
Aiden appears on the screen again, wearing a frown. “Well? It’s awful, right?”
I chuckle. “I only saw the bottom half, as in black pants.”
“It’s the sandals!” he yells as he flips his phone again and zeros in on a pair of very white, very large feet in blue slip-on sandals.
I make a face. I can’t help it. That’s just…no.
“Ha,” my brother says, loud and obnoxious. “Told you.”
“She didn’t see the whole thing,” the man in the sandals complains. “Show her everything.”
“No, because if she sees all yourWarhotness, it will negate the sandals issue.”
I snort. “I assure you, no one is hot enough to negate those sandals.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“Show her my face,” the man taunts.
Oh, he’s a cocky one.
“Not happening.” Aiden gives him a death glare that, on him, doesn’t look even remotely threatening. “All right, beautiful Sienna, what are you doing?”
His refusal to let me see his friend sparks a hint of curiosity inside me. Now I want to know what the cocky guy looks like.
