Chapter Three

Julian

I picked at my chicken pecan salad at lunch on Tuesday while scrolling through comments on the TikTok video some thirsty user had made about Christopher. They'd even given him a nickname—the Darling Detective. I didn't even want to know what the private messages looked like on his social media accounts. I grew more sullen after reading each comment, knowing it was just a matter of time before one of these ardent fans found someone who knew Christopher and would wrangle an introduction. And just when it seemed like something was blooming between us too. Snuggling into Christopher while watching television wasn't new, but him holding me while I slept for two hours was.

I woke when the credits started rolling, surprised I was still at Harper's and even more shocked to find myself in Christopher's arms. I'd bolted up quickly, and that's when I noticed the wet spot on his shirt. "I'm so embarrassed."

"Nah," Christopher said with a twinkle in his eye. "You've been drooling over me for three years, and now you're drooling on me."

I grinned at him as my usual sass surged to the surface. "Excellent point."

Harper let out an exaggerated yawn and aimed a death glare at Christopher. "I think it's time for you fellas to go to bed. Julian teaches his first class tomorrow, and Topher will need his energy to run from all the single ladies."

"So, your bed or mine?" I teased huskily. "Harper told us to go to bed, but she said nothing about going to separate ones."

That earned a flash of dimples from Christopher. He opened his mouth to say something, but he glanced over my shoulder, and the humor slid from his face. I turned to see what Harper was doing, but she just smiled innocently. So I kissed her cheek, blew Christopher a kiss too, and shuffled home only to discover Harper's prediction had come true the next morning. It was like my girl had summoned a hoard of horny demons. Then again, it didn't take clairvoyant vision or other paranormal persuasions to deduce Christopher would become an overnight sensation. He was the real deal—looks, intelligence, and a kind heart. And some lucky girl was going to get to enjoy all of it.

Reed Davies, my fifty-year-old fairy godfather, tailor extraordinaire, and employer at A Cut Above, sailed into the break room just as I released a heavy sigh that was dramatic even for me.

He stopped and placed a hand on his hip. Reed was tall, debonair, and always impeccably dressed. Today's dove-gray suit featured a deep purple waistcoat and a top hat to match. The color combo accentuated his gray hair and made his light blue eyes pop. "Why so glum, sugarplum?" Reed asked. "If you tell me, I can help you fix it."

I wasn't ready to admit how out of hand my crush on Topher had gotten. I'd never allowed myself to fall for a straight guy, but one look at him and I'd been a goner. My infatuation only intensified over the years when I learned his character was even greater than his looks.

"You could teach my environmental ethics class," I suggested.

"No way, darling."

"You'd be great," I countered.

"Of course. I'm fabulous at everything, but that wasn't what I meant." Reed placed a finger on his chin and studied me. "I know full well you're not intimidated by the students. Hell, it's only been a few years since you were one of them."

"A lot has changed since I graduated from college six years ago," I replied.

I'd worked in Milan, Paris, New York City, and Atlanta as an intern, an associate designer, and a fashion buyer. I'd even appeared on The Next Face in Fashion , a reality television show intended to boost the career of a bright new designer. Each opportunity had left me feeling more jaded and alienated in the toxic fashion industry. I'd had my ideas stolen by one fashion house, been verbally abused by another, and Greer Spalding, my last employer in Atlanta, had ensured no other designers would work with me. What crime had I committed to get blackballed? I'd dared to dream. Greer had made her feelings about the reality show crystal clear: join the cast and lose my job. I already knew I didn't have a future with her, so I rolled the dice, finishing runner-up on the show. I hadn't crawled back to Greer on my hands and knees as she'd claimed, but I had tried to find a position with other fashion houses, only to have the doors slammed in my face.

Professional disappointments had spilled over to my personal life until I felt suffocated, fractured, and untethered. Then I'd moved to Savannah. I loved working for Reed and appreciated the freedom he afforded me to pursue other ventures. It was through his connection at the Savannah College of Art and Design that I landed the teaching gig. I'd obtained my MFA through SCAD's Atlanta campus, but that alone wasn't enough to get me an interview.

Reed crossed his arms over his chest. "Spill the tea."

"Things between Christopher and I are…strange." I tilted my head and tasted the word on my tongue, and it wasn't right. "Not strange. They're different."

His mouth curved into a wry smile. "Now we're getting somewhere, baby. Different how?" Reed didn't need to ask who I was talking about because he was thoroughly versed in all things Christopher Carnegie.

"Well," I said, still shocked by the words about to come out of my mouth, "he's been flirting back, and I've caught him staring at my mouth and ass. He's always let me invade his personal space, but he's never held me while I slept for two hours."

Reed arched an impeccably shaped eyebrow. "Interesting. And what do you make of these changes?"

I grimaced. "That's part of the problem. It seems like maybe Christopher feels something for me other than friendship. But now? After three years? He's never dated men in all that time, and I'm pretty sure I would've heard if he'd dated them before my arrival."

Reed sighed and shook his head. "We both know sexuality is a fluid thing and operates on its own timeline. Men and women older than him have opened their minds and bodies to exploration. How old is Christopher?"

"Thirty-six," I replied.

Reed nodded sagely. "Still so young in the grand scheme of things. He might be eight years older than you, but you're probably lightyears ahead of him in this arena. You're crazy about this guy. Why aren't you happy?"

"It can't be real."

"Why? Because you're afraid the man you've been mooning over for three years might return your feelings? Listen, kid, you've been teasing the guy mercilessly."

"Never when he was involved with someone," I clarified. "I've always been respectful of the women he's dated."

"Because you're a doll. But stop and think for a minute. Christopher would've shut you down long ago if he didn't like the attention you've showered on him. I think there's been something between you all along. Don't let fear run the show."

"He's found a house to rent and will be moving out of Harper's apartment in October."

"No time like the present to make your move, doll," Reed said.

My phone pinged because I'd foolishly set up an alert for posts about Christopher. Several other notifications followed the first. I'd have to turn it off, or I'd lose my mind.

"What's that all about?" Reed asked, pointing to my phone.

I told him about the interview Christopher had filmed for Channel Eleven and the hysteria it had created. Reed snatched up my phone and played the video. When he finished, he held my phone against his chest and looked at me with heart eyes.

"Are you just going to roll over and let these ladies snag your man?" Reed asked.

"I'd like to roll over, grab my knees, and pin them against my chest for him."

"Scamp," Reed said, sounding shocked by my lewd comment, even though he encouraged it every chance he got. "Listen, don't live a life full of regret. If he tells you he's not interested in you like that, at least you'll know where you stand and won't be asking what if for the rest of your life." Shadows crossed over his eyes as they often did whenever we discussed matters of the heart. I wondered who or what had scarred him. "Trust me when I tell you it's miserable."

"Yeah," I said. "I know you're right."

The bells over the front door chimed. "I'm up," Reed said. "Put down your phone and eat your lunch. See you out on the floor in a bit."

I deleted the alert I'd set, tucked my phone away, and finished my salad. I'd need the fuel to get through the rest of my workday and power me through my first lecture. Luckily, there were no tailor emergencies at the shop, so the day went by fast, which put me in front of college kids quicker than I was ready for.

I'd received a text from Topher right before I entered the classroom. You've got this! It was short, sweet, and endearing. I wanted to reply with a flirty response but went with a simple thank you and kissy lips instead. I always ended my texts to him like that, and he'd be suspicious if I didn't.

The class was already full when I walked in, and several students greeted me with friendly smiles. None looked bored or pissed, which I thought was a huge win. Then again, environmental ethics in fashion was an elective class for the BFA program, and there were plenty of other electives available if a student didn't have interest in this topic. No one had forced these students to take the course.

I'd put together a PowerPoint presentation for my introduction, and I'd included some witty graphics and silly jokes, which seemed to land well with the group. Their positive feedback made me a little bolder, and I allowed my personality to shine through. As I moved through my goals for them, I talked about my roles in the industry and how I drew from my experiences to tailor their class.

"That brings me to your semester project," I said. "Everything I'm about to tell you is in your syllabus, but I like to hear myself talk. Lucky you." I advanced to my next slide, a side-by-side comparison of Vivien Leigh as Scarlett O'Hara in her green dress made from repurposed draperies and the Carol Burnett skit where she'd also worn repurposed drapes but with the rod still in them. It was doubtful these kids had ever heard of either woman, but the image received a lot of laughter.

"Your challenge, if you choose to accept it, and you will unless you want a third of your semester grade to be an F, is to create an original design made from entirely eco-friendly materials or completely repurposed materials such as my friend Scarlett in the photo. A list of acceptable materials and due dates are in the syllabus, so I strongly suggest you read it thoroughly. The first deadline is in two weeks when you will submit your concept to me for approval before you start the actual design. Concepts include color sketches and a list of items you will use and where you plan to source them. Every detail must be eco-friendly, and I mean down to the thread and the enclosures. It can be men's or women's fashion, but it must be an original piece. No replicas of existing gowns or costumes made from repurposed materials. I want to see what you're capable of creating. Any questions so far?"

A few hands went up, and I noticed the other students remained engaged while I answered questions. Afterward, I went around the room and asked what they hoped to gain from the class. By the time I finished the round, I was thoroughly impressed and happy I had taken a leap in teaching the class.

After the last student left, I turned off the light and headed to my car. I'd already told Harper I'd pick up pizza for the three of us. Christopher wasn't there when I arrived, and Harper informed me he'd be late. I tucked his pizza inside the refrigerator and joined her on the sofa. She wanted to hear about the class and squealed with delight when I told her everything. By the time I finished eating, I'd worked up the courage to ask what had been on my mind since I'd arrived, even though dread tied my stomach in knots.

"So, did Christopher strike gold with the plethora of ladies vying to be Mrs. Carnegie?"

Harper snorted. "Hell no. He's so annoyed." My nerves eased when Harper threw her head back and cackled. "He said if he wanted this kind of attention, he would've tried out for The Bachelor . Topher's checking out the tips that have come in through the hotline. He sounded optimistic about them."

I let go of all the tension and swirling thoughts that had pervaded my mind lately and just enjoyed time with my best girl. I went home at nine to start planning content for my YouTube channel. I received a text about an hour later from Topher, thanking me for the pizza. He ended his message with the same kissy face emoji I always sent him. I stared at the brief message for a long time. He rarely used emojis in our text exchanges and never blew me kisses.

Hope, dangerous and intoxicating, unfurled in my heart.