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can’t go out with you. I cannot be seen in public with you. I do not need the media craziness that will come with being associated with you.”
    “You’re Grace Veronica’s daughter. They photograph you getting a coffee for fuck’s sake!”
    “And that’s why I don’t need any more attention!” She runs her fingers through her blond hair. “I just don’t, okay?”
    “Why? It makes no sense.”
    “It does to me.” Her eyes soften and she wraps her arms around her waist. “It’s dangerous for me, okay? I can’t explain why, so you have to accept that as it is. You have to take my no for a no and just leave it alone.”
    “See, that’s where the problem is. I can’t,” I say, moving closer to her. She doesn’t move. “I wanted you the moment I saw you in the bar. I wanted to fuck you, Leah. I still do. I’d love nothin’ more than to have your body beneath mine right fuckin’ now. But you turned me down with that sassy mouth of yours, and now, I’m intrigued by you.”
    “Intrigued by me? There’s nothing to be intrigued by. I’m pretty boring.”
    “You’re wrong,” I mutter, dipping my face close to hers without touching her. “I want to get under your skin, darlin’. I want to consume you. Even if it’s only for a night. I want to finish what I set out to start when I walked up to you in that bar.”
    “You can’t.” She swallows.
    “I can and I will,” I say, echoing her words from earlier. “I won’t leave you alone, Leah. I will pursue you until I get what I want. Until I get you.”
    “You won’t. Get me.”
    I cup her jaw and brush my nose along it. “I want you, Leah. And I always get what I want.”

“Y ou look like you got attacked by a swamp rat.”
    I look up at my mom, my mouth full of Cheetos. I chew and swallow and shrug. “I’m working. All day. Which means I’m staying in my pajamas and eating a whole bunch of junk food.”
    “So I see.” She casts her eyes over my bed, which happens to be littered with various full soda cans, bags of chips, and candy.
    “Hey, I showered.”
    “Thankfully. Quinn said he’d e-mail the photos over at four this afternoon.”
    “Awesome.” I add a capped sleeve to the dress I’m designing then erase it.
    “Macey left a message on the phone. She might come by after work.”
    “Cool.” I shove a Cheeto into my mouth.
    “Ada is at the community center all day.”
    “Mmhmm.” I crush my design into a ball and throw it in the general direction of my trash can. I miss.
    Mom picks it up and drops it in. “Leah!”
    “What?” I whine, turning around. “I’m trying to work!”
    “I know, but I only want to talk for two seconds.”
    “Fine.” I put the pencil down. “What is it?”
    “Corey’s on the phone.”
    I glare at her. “That better be on hold.”
    She nods.
    “Good. I’m not here. Okay?”
    “Leah.”
    “I said I’m not here. Okay?”
    She sighs but nods. Then she brings the phone to her ear. “Sorry, Corey. She’s not here. I must have missed her… All right. I’ll tell her… Bye, hon.” She throws the phone on my bed and looks at me pointedly. “He said he’ll call again later.”
    I turn back to my pad, grab another Cheeto, and put my pencil to the page. “And I will still not be here.” I shove the fluffy, orange chip in my mouth.
    “Good grief,” Mom mutters before shutting my door.
    I don’t even glance over my shoulder. I focus on the scratch of my pencil against the page, of the forming of the dress as it filters out of my mind and into reality. The shape of the skirt, the flare of the hem, the tuck of the waist, the dip of the neckline. I watch it take shape, become a real design, something I can change and manipulate until it resembles black-and-white perfection.
    But it’s not right.
    I tear the page off, ball it up, and throw it toward my trash can. This time, I sketch a jumpsuit. Flaring the pant legs, I scratch up the page until I reach the neckline. Low, low, lower… I