The Boyfriend Bracket

by Kate Evangelista

  Instead of responding, she pulled out her phone and showed him the screen. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  And there it was. An article announcing the deal he’d inked with Vertigo. It detailed everything, including the expedited release schedule. Thank God Cam wasn’t into social media of any kind, or Will and Stella would have been in a world of trouble.

  “This article came out a day after winter formal,” she said before he could say anything. “That means you knew even before then. Right?”

  There was genuine sadness in her eyes. He wiped his hand down his face, leaving an ink streak on his cheek. “I was going to tell you during the dance, but…”

  “We never went to the dance,” she finished for him.

  “And you were upset about Parsons. I thought that was the absolute worst time to tell you.”

  She ran to him, got on her knees, and threw her arms around his shoulders. “It would have been the absolute right time to tell me, you idiot.”

  “What?” He looked into her eyes. What he had mistaken as tears of sadness at first were actually tears of joy. “You would have been happy for me?”

  “I would have been so happy for you.” She kissed him. Then pulled back just as quick. “I’m totally happy for you. This is it, Will.”

  He was in awe of her. If there was a time he thought he couldn’t love her more, it was that moment. “You drove all this way.…”

  “Just to knock some sense back into you.” She held his head between her hands. “No matter what I’m going through, don’t you ever keep something this huge from me again. Or I will never forgive you!”

  He nodded as best he could while she held him. “I promise.”

  They kissed for the longest time. Only fear of Cam walking in on them brought them to their senses. Stella and Will got to their feet, holding hands.

  “So we’ll both be busy for a while, huh?” she said with a bit of longing in her tone.

  “But it’s a good kind of busy.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Why don’t we set up a time each night where we can talk? No distractions.”

  She smiled, dazzlingly bright. “I like that.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Are you headed back to Oak Hills? We can have lunch first.”

  “Franklin’s with me.” She gestured toward the door. “He’s waiting in the parking lot. We plan on heading to fabric stores after here.”

  “I see. There was a hidden agenda to your good intentions,” he teased.

  “You do have the best fabric stores here. I’d be dumb not to take advantage of that.” She must have seen through his brave face because she added, “But I can definitely squeeze in lunch. Something off campus, of course.”

  His chest swelled. All was right between them again. It was exactly what Will needed. Now he felt like he could work and everything would be okay.

  FIFTEEN

  SINGLES AWARENESS DAY

  The freaking dress was not cooperating! The bodice was all wrong. The skirt was hideous. Who was she to think fuchsia was an awesome color choice? And silk? Was she completely insane? She might as well be working with neoprene.

  Franklin was off putting the finishing touches on his dress, and she hadn’t seen or heard from him in a week. Which was frustrating, because she wanted to bounce her idea off someone, but her usual sounding board was also hard at work.

  The only thing keeping her mostly sane was her nightly call with Will. Between nine and ten p.m. every day, she was able to breathe again. They hadn’t seen each other since she’d dropped in unannounced at his dorm room. She missed him terribly and told him so every time they spoke. He too was hard at work on the edits for Morla. Although what he still needed to fix was beyond her. The comic was perfect in her eyes. She wished she could say the same about the stupid dress.

  Stella yanked the incomplete garment off the dress form and flung it over her shoulder. It was the second dress she had rejected. Tim Gunn’s voice in her head kept saying it wasn’t working. The combination was terrible. The construction work shoddy. And that she was running out of time. His buttery accent didn’t make the truth any less real.

  All around her room were scraps of fabric and drawings of dresses. None of them were good enough. Big enough. Grand enough. Worth a scholarship to FIDM. She needed a pow! A knock-their-socks-off moment on that UCLA runway. But inspiration was being fickle. This was a first for her. Usually, the first dress that popped into her mind’s eye was the one.

  Shoving her hands into her hair, she closed her fingers around the strands and pulled. Even the prickling pain on her scalp wasn’t working. She turned. And paused. The dress she had discarded had landed on Will’s head and shoulders. Apparently he had been in the process of entering her room at the time she’d thrown the silk monstrosity over her shoulder. His hand was still on the knob.

  A giggle burst out of her. She covered her mouth with both hands. Her shoulders shook from the effort of trying not to throw her head back and laugh. Will reached up with his free hand and pulled the dress off his head. He wore a rueful smile on his lips. Then he said, “Hey, Slappy. Guess this one didn’t make the cut?”

  All the mirth in Stella vanished like a morning mist. No matter how much she wanted to leap into his arms, the reality of her situation kept her from doing so. She rubbed her face, then slapped her cheeks. Maybe she needed coffee. Or an energy drink. Or both mixed together. Yeah, that was it.

  “Look, I love you being here,” she said, her eyes darting from one rejected sketch to the next. “But you have to go.”

  “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  She froze. “What?”

  When she looked back at Will, he had a rose in his hand. Red. Single stem. Like the one he had left her on the playground. Had he tucked it away in his back pocket or something? Because he sure hadn’t been holding it when he had come into her room.

  He handed the beautiful bloom to her. “It looks like you need a break.”

  She accepted the rose and brought it to her lips. She inhaled its heady perfume. The velveteen petals tickled her lips.

  “I don’t have time,” she whispered.

  “I’ll go if that’s what you really want,” Will said, tilting his head toward the door.

  The word no hovered at the tip of Stella’s tongue. It was so good to see him. His handsome face. And hearing the sound of his voice IRL. He was the sun, and she was the sunflower needing his light. His warmth.

  “What about your edits?”

  “Done.” He clapped his hands once. “All done.”

  “Really?” A wide smile transformed her face. “Oh, Will! Congratulations!”

  “It’s just the first round. I’m waiting to see if there’s a second one.”

  “But you’re done!” She was so happy for him. Now if she could only be happy for herself, that would be swell.

  “It really looks like what you need is a break,” Will insisted. “Grab your stuff. I have something to show you.”

  Stella didn’t move at first. Half of her said she had to stay. She needed to start a new sketch. Maybe another trip to the fabric store. The other half reminded her it was Valentine’s Day. How could she have forgotten? And Will was here. He’d driven three hours to see her. Will. Her perfect Will.

  Missing him won over her need to work. It was what pushed Stella into action. It wasn’t like she was getting anything done anyway. Might as well spend the rest of the day with him.

  * * *

  AN HOUR LATER, Stella was surrounded by the most glamorous dresses in fashion history.

  “I had dinner plans, but I decided the Icons of Fashion exhibit was a good pit stop along the way,” Will said, spreading his arms wide.

  They were the only ones at the museum. The rest of the world filled restaurants and movie theaters. Stella wasn’t hungry anyway. Fashion fed her. Recharged her.

  “Will,” she breathed out. Her eyes jumped from one dress to the next.

  There were gowns from all the big names in fashion
. Her eyes feasted on the myriad fabrics, ranging from classic to avant-garde designs. She stood in front of a black Valentino gown with white piping detailing and a tulle train.

  “This is the dress Julia Roberts wore when she won the Best Actress Oscar,” she said, in awe of the simple yet elegant design.

  “How do you know that?” Will asked, coming to stand beside her.

  “My mom watches the Oscars for the stars. I watch for the fashion. Even the shows from earlier years are on YouTube.” She moved to the next dress. The name plate read JACQUELINE DURRAN. “This one Keira Knightley wore in the movie Atonement. The awesome thing about it is that the designer took elements of the twenties and the thirties to make the dress, even if the movie was set in the thirties and forties.”

  “I like the color,” Will said simply.

  “You can never go wrong with emerald-green silk.” Stella sighed, basking in the dress’s beauty. “And this one,” she pointed to the next. “Halle Berry wore to the 2002 Oscars. Burgundy taffeta skirt with an embroidered net top. It’s daring yet sophisticated.”

  “You really know a lot about this stuff.” The awe in Will’s voice was unmistakable.

  “Fashion is my life,” she said, the ache in her voice all too real. “We live in fashion. I feel like I’m nothing without it.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “But it’s true.” She turned in a tight circle. “Just look at this room. All these beautiful dresses. I need this in my life, Will. I need it like my lungs need air. One day one of my dresses will be in a room like this, showing a girl with a dream that she too can make art and have someone wear it.”

  Then her eyes landed on the most magnificent dress of all. It took up so much space, it practically engulfed the mannequin it was on. The spotlight above it shined so bright.

  “That’s it.” Stella ran to the dress. Will followed in her wake. “This is the kind of dress I need to make.”

  “It’s huge.”

  “It’s the dress Carrie wore the night she was waiting for Petrovsky in Paris.” At his blank expression, she added, “When we were in eighth grade, Franklin and I used to sneak episodes of Sex and the City. We watched that show for the fashion. This dress is Versace. A Cosmo editor described it as acres and acres of tulle and chiffon in a darkly romantic color. The kind of dress that takes you out of reality. The kind of dress that makes the world a better place just by being in it.”

  As if a light bulb went on in her mind, Stella saw, clear as day, the dress she needed to make. She had to sketch it right away. But before that, she threw herself into Will’s arms. It took him a second to understand what was happening before he reacted.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Her toes curled at the sweetness of it. Then, like the darkest chocolate, it turned rich and lush. Will pulled her against him like a man starved. She fell into the kiss, fed off it. Needing the power of its magic.

  “Does this mean it’s back to leaving you alone?” Will asked after he’d set her back on unsteady feet.

  She cradled his sad face in her hands and looked him in the eye. “First, you’re taking me to the fabric store.”

  His eyebrow went up. “I am?”

  She nodded. “Then you’re taking me to dinner.”

  “Really now?”

  “Then you’re taking me home and helping me with this dress.”

  “Only if you ask nicely.” But the smile on his lips was unmistakable.

  “I’m going to need all the help I can get. Get ready to sew like your life depends on it.”

  His grin grew wider. “I like the sound of that.”

  Stella shifted to her toes until her forehead pressed against his. “Real talk?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I was scared.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of not becoming successful at my own thing.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “I never said I was sane.” She shifted back on her feet so their gazes locked. “I wanted to show you and the world that I can do this.”

  Silence wrapped around them like a wool blanket. Stella waited for what Will was about to say. His expression grew serious.

  “Then we’ve got a ton of work to do,” he said.

  The statement was better than any encouragement he could have given her. It drove her to say, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  Will gave her a lopsided grin. “Best Valentine’s Day ever.”

  “Shut up!”

  “I did good?”

  “You did good.”

  SIXTEEN

  SPRING NOT-SO-BREAK

  Will hissed as the needle made friends with his finger. A drop of blood leaked out of the punctured skin. He quickly put the tip into his mouth to keep from staining the giant dress in front of him.

  “Again?” Franklin asked, exasperated.

  “I’ll get the kit,” Stella said, walking out of her room.

  “It’s the last one without a Band-Aid.” Will studied his finger. “I was going for symmetry.”

  “Well, congratulations.” Stella strode back in and kneeled before him. The compassionate smile on her pretty face slayed him. She took his hand in hers and said, “Thank you. You didn’t have to spend your spring break sewing a million beads into this monstrosity.”

  He kissed the tip of her nose. “You look hot in your glasses.”

  Stella adjusted the black frames. A blush covered her cheeks.

  “More sewing, less flirting,” Franklin admonished.

  Will leaned back on his other hand. He had been sitting on the floor of Stella’s room since he’d got back that morning. The sun had since gone from yellow to orange. He hadn’t moved an inch.

  “Franklin’s right,” he said while Stella wrapped a bandage around his last un-pricked finger.

  “I’m always right,” the neon-haired Korean confirmed.

  Will and Stella both rolled their eyes.

  “It’s going to be an awesome dress.” Will looked up at the voluminous confection.

  “I’m not even done with the top half.” Stella placed a kiss on Will’s finger, then pushed to her feet. “Boning a corset isn’t easy. Especially with this new technique I’m trying. The audience won’t see it—”

  “But it’s worth it.” Franklin’s needle flew in and out of the fabric on his side of the skirt so fast, his hand was a blur.

  “How are you so good at that?” Will asked, truly impressed.

  “Practice,” Stella and Franklin answered like twins.

  “Remember that time we were learning how to sew sequins on a dress?” Stella asked, returning to her side of the skirt.

  “Mine was so crooked, I practically invented my own design.” Franklin cut the thread, knotted the end, picked up a bead, and started a new section. “This floral design is divine.”

  “I was inspired by the rose Will gave me on Valentine’s Day.” Stella winked at Will.

  “Gag me.” Franklin actually gagged. “I take it back.”

  Unfazed, Stella said, “Thank you for helping me.”

  “I’m here for you.”

  “Me too,” Will piped in, feeling left out.

  “More sewing!” Stella and Franklin barked at him.

  * * *

  BY MIDNIGHT, Stella had called it a day and sent everyone home. When even she and Franklin were pricking their fingers, it was a clear sign to stop. The last thing she wanted was traces of their DNA on the dress before it walked the runway. Exhausting herself and those helping her wouldn’t get the dress done any faster.

  Will left through the front door but came back through her window.

  “What are you doing?” Stella whisper-hissed, even if she was happy that he was in her room again.

  Will shrugged. It was like the earth moved when his shoulders did. “Wasn’t ready to say good night yet.”

  Stella had no argument for that. Instead she climbed under the covers of her bed—the only area free of
clutter—and patted the space beside her.

  “You sure?”

  “Cuddling,” she said, serious as a heart attack.

  His features softened. “Cuddling.”

  It wasn’t like Stella hadn’t thought about doing it with Will. She’d caught herself daydreaming on more than one occasion, wondering what it would be like. She just wasn’t ready.

  She shifted to her side, fitting her back against his front. He gathered her into his arms, pulling her close. He nuzzled the back of her head.

  “I’m addicted to your shampoo,” he said, voice muffled by her hair.

  Giggles came out of her like champagne bubbles. “You like coconut. Noted.”

  “That pie your mom makes…”

  “Buko pie. Apparently, it’s famous in the Philippines.”

  “Have you ever been?”

  “I plan to. My aunt and uncle still live there. I was thinking the summer before college. But now, with everything so up in the air … I don’t know.”

  Will nudged her. “Don’t think like that. You’ll get in.”

  “I won’t hear back from the others until after the competition,” she said with a sigh.

  “Then we’ll focus on the dress for now.”

  “Why are you so good to me?”

  “Because you’re easy to be good to.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “What?” he asked.

  “Stay positive all the time. Even with Cam, you always seem to have the answers. Like nothing ever bothers you.”

  “I don’t always feel that way.”

  “Oh?”

  There was a pause. It was heavy and thick. Like Will was gathering up the courage to tell her something. When the words came, they were enough to push Stella into a seated position.

  “We need to tell Cam.”

  “What?” Her eyebrows climbed up to her hairline. “Where’s this coming from?”

  Will pulled her back down. This time she was facing him. A blush crept across her cheeks. The position seemed so intimate. There was barely any room between them. He was so close, she could kiss his neck and jaw and chest. If she wanted to. She was tempted. Oh, she was tempted.

  “Hear me out,” Will said, breaking her thoughts. “I know we agreed we had to keep this from him.”