The Boyfriend Bracket

by Kate Evangelista

  When Franklin sighed, his once-confident shoulders slumped. “Yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Then he walked out, head held high.

  A part of Stella had regretted her words as soon as they’d left her mouth. Franklin didn’t deserve what she’d said. But—and it was a big but—she’d show him. The sleeves looked damn good, and the votes from the crowd would prove she was right.

  With renewed determination, Stella dabbed at her cheeks. Her focus needed to be on finishing the hand-painted roses she had planned as accessories. She could worry about Will and what was left of their relationship after she’d won the competition.

  * * *

  THE NIGHT BEFORE the competition, Stella sat in front of her sewing machine, making the adjustments. Her model was bustier than she had previously accounted for. She was so tired. Her eyes kept losing focus, so she kept blinking them. She developed a crick in her neck from hunching over so much. But she had to keep going.

  She glanced at her bed as she fed fabric through the machine. Her sheets called to her. She resisted the urge to lie down. She could sleep after she’d won. The whirring of the machine didn’t help. It was too hypnotic. Too consistent.

  “Are you ever going to talk to me?” Cam said from behind her.

  The jolt of surprise from her brother’s sudden appearance woke Stella up like a triple shot of espresso. She breathed through her frantically beating heart. Then she lifted her foot off the pedal to keep from accidentally ruining the dress.

  “Not until you stop being a jerk and let me live my life,” she said, breaking her no-speaking-to-Cam policy. With Franklin deserting her in her hour of need and the continued radio silence from Will, Stella had a few things to get off her chest.

  “Come on, Stella. I’m just looking out for you. You don’t know guys—”

  She dropped the corset of the dress, cutting him off with, “How am I supposed to learn if you don’t let me?”

  “Don’t be that way.”

  Fed up, Stella pushed away from her machine and faced her brother. “Like what, exactly? Someone genuinely pissed off because you’re keeping me from the guy I’ve liked since I was a kid? You throwing that same guy out of the house because he happens to feel the same way about me?” She pointed at him, causing Cam to shut his mouth before he could rebut her claims. “And don’t even say that Will is like other guys. You and I both know he’s not.”

  “I wasn’t going to.” He pushed away from the doorframe he had been leaning on and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his cargo shorts. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “You think Will is capable of hurting me?” Stella asked incredulously.

  Cam stayed silent. As he should.

  “Okay.” She breathed hard and ran her fingers through her hair. The oily strands reminded her she needed a shower. “Are you saying you’re really willing to give up a shot at the majors for the sake of protecting me? Because that’s exactly what needs to happen when I go to college. There’s no protecting me if you’re not with me all the time.”

  Her brother finally dropped his gaze. A muscle jumped on his jaw. Stella could see the internal war he was fighting caused by the truth in her words. If this was the only chance she got to knock some sense into him, then by God she was taking it.

  “Before Dad died, he made me promise to protect you and Nanay,” he said.

  Stella’s face softened at the mention of their father. “That you did. In fact, you did such a great job that I couldn’t experience life anymore. Do you think that was what Dad wanted when he asked you to take care of us when he couldn’t?”

  His shoulders came up. “I might have overdone it. A little.”

  “Ya think?”

  She approached him and touched his bicep. He met her gaze. Confusion and protectiveness was evident in his hazel eyes. She went with a gentler tone when she spoke again.

  “Cam, I spent most of senior year standing on my own two feet. Sure, some things didn’t go my way, but I got up, dusted myself off, and kept moving.” For the most part, anyway. But Cam didn’t need all the details. “I can take care of myself.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” There was a definite gruffness in his voice that she hadn’t heard before. It was like he was trying his best not to be overcome by his emotions.

  Stella smiled. “I appreciate you looking out for me. I really do.”

  “Then—”

  She shook her head, cutting him off. “You have to allow me to find my own strength, Cam. I won’t learn from my mistakes if you keep shielding me from them. Getting hurt sucks, but how will I find out how to deal if you don’t let me go?”

  “But…” The rest of what he wanted to say trailed off.

  “But,” she continued for him, “if I do find myself brokenhearted, I give you permission to hunt the guy down.”

  “Promise?”

  “I expect nothing less.” And she meant it too. That was, if she and Will still had a chance. But she feared that it was too late.

  She pushed the thought away, not allowing herself to get distracted from what was important in that moment. There was no point in thinking of a future with Will if Cam didn’t understand what she needed.

  Cam cleared his throat. The tip of his nose grew red. Stella’s heart melted. She wrapped her arms around her brother’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug. In seconds, Cam was returning the hug.

  “When did you grow up, little sis?” he asked as he held her at arm’s length.

  Her spring of tears welled up. “Being away from you does that.”

  “Ha-ha.” He rubbed the heel of his hand against his eye. “If you tell anyone about this…”

  “My lips are sealed.” She giggled, blinking back tears.

  “Do I want to know what that’s about?” He pointed at the bracket.

  Stella stepped in the way, hopefully blocking his view of the board. “Let me shield you from that.”

  He took a deep breath and nodded. “Fine.”

  “Now get out of here.” She turned him around and nudged him out of the door. “I need to finish this dress for the show tomorrow.”

  Cam let her push him out into the hallway, but before she could shut her door, he said, “Are we good?”

  She smiled again. “Yeah.”

  Then she closed the door. For the first time in a long while, Stella felt her shoulders lighten. A load lifted off them. She allowed herself a moment to sigh in relief. It really seemed like Cam understood what she wanted. But it still felt good knowing he was there when she needed him.

  Done basking in her small victory, Stella put her game face back on. If there was ever a time she needed to push through, this was it. Imagining Tim Gunn giving her encouragement, she strode back to her sewing machine.

  NINETEEN

  LIFE IS A CATWALK, BABY

  After getting a couple hours’ sleep, Stella packed everything into her car and drove to UCLA as the sun came up. Thinking she would arrive early, she was surprised to see the makeshift backstage area of the Ackerman Grand Ballroom was already teaming with activity. Models were in hair and makeup, production staff were running to complete one task or the other, and designers were putting final touches on their garments.

  Stella found her designated area. Beside her name was the Polaroid of her model in the dress. Once the garment was out of its box, she proceeded to the hair-and-makeup station and instructed the stylist on what to do with all the hand-painted roses she’d brought along as accessories. When she returned to her station, two assistants appeared as if by magic.

  Just then it finally hit Stella. Her first real fashion show. Soon her creation would walk the raised runway she had passed on the way backstage. She inhaled the acrid scent of hair spray permeating the air. It was real. The first step to her dreams coming true.

  She gave quick instructions. The assistants hopped to it. Steaming the dress. Preparing the rest of the roses that would go around the model’s neck and arms like a floral chai
n. It gave her dress the over-the-top avant-garde push. Stella’s model joined them twenty minutes before the show started. She wore a crown of teal roses on her head.

  Stella didn’t bother scoping out the competition. She had this in the bag. Although, once in a while, she’d look out for Franklin. She missed her best friend terribly. She promised herself she’d make up with him after she won.

  * * *

  WILL BARELY LEFT the dorm after Cam moved out. He knew in his heart that nothing would feel right with Stella if Cam hated them both in the process. The last thing Will wanted was to drive a wedge between siblings. But he also knew that he needed Stella in his life, despite Cam’s feelings on the matter.

  He needed to fix things with Cam. He didn’t know how exactly yet. He hoped once he was done with the comic he was creating, the answer would come to him. He’d been working on the comic every day, even ditching class just so he could finish.

  He was so engrossed with inking the final pages that he didn’t notice the door had opened and closed behind him. Cam’s empty bed beside him squeaked. He took his eyes off the comic for a second.

  “Did you come to finish the job?” he asked Cam, who sat forward until his arms rested on his knees. Equal parts joy and fear coursed through his veins. “If so, can it wait? I just need to finish this.”

  Cam said, “I’m not here to punch you.”

  “Oh, good,” Will replied, allowing himself a breath of relief. Then he waited. No matter how much he wanted to speak. To apologize. To beg for his forgiveness the way Nana had taught him. He waited. He knew Cam well enough to know that his friend did nothing without reason. If he’d come back to the dorms to see Will, then there was something he wanted to say. In the meantime, he continued with his inking.

  “I talked to Stella,” Cam finally said.

  Will lifted the pen for a moment, debating if he should stop, but decided he had to finish, so he continued working. “And?”

  Cam sighed. “She said I need to understand that I can’t always be there to protect her. That she needs to learn what it feels like to be brokenhearted.”

  “I would never—”

  “Stella is my sister.” Cam sat up straight. “I will always feel protective of her.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  Cam growled in annoyance. Will zipped his lips and threw away the key. Cam shook his head. Will knew it wasn’t the time to be silly, so he nodded for his friend to continue.

  “Stella actually gave me permission to hunt you down if you ever hurt her.”

  Will kept his mouth shut.

  A long beat of silence followed Cam’s statement. Will didn’t doubt the truth of it for one second. Cam’s gaze seemed far away. As if he was thinking. Will filled out the final word bubble on the last page of the comic.

  “But if there was a guy who I trust will keep her happy, I suppose that’s you,” Cam said. He turned to face Will fully.

  Will did the same, maintaining eye contact as he spoke. “I wasn’t kidding when I told you I love her. I don’t know how it happened. To tell you the truth, she’s the one who has the power to break my heart, not the other way around.”

  Cam grimaced. “I don’t remember you being this mushy before. Stella do that to you?”

  Wiggling his eyebrows, Will added, “And so much more.”

  “Ugh!” Cam slapped a hand down his face. “Stop! That’s my sister you’re talking about.”

  Will grew serious. “Real talk?”

  “What?”

  “That’s what Stella and I say when we’re about to say something important.”

  Cam rolled his eyes. “You two are so gross.” Will stared his friend down until Cam was forced to nod. “Fine. Real talk.”

  “I’m sorry for not telling you,” Will said.

  “Nothing would have happened if you did. I would have shut you down like a drug mule going through TSA.” Cam pointed at him. “Just keep the PDA to a minimum when I’m around. And if I hear even a whisper of Stella unhappy, I’m coming after you with my bat wrapped in barbwire named Lucille.”

  “A Walking Dead reference. You are serious.” Will pressed his lips together and reached out a hand. “Deal.”

  Cam looked from Will to his hand, then back again before taking it. But instead of a handshake, Cam pulled him into a back-slapping hug. Will went willingly, feeling a weight slide off his chest.

  “Does this mean we’re good?” Will asked when they pulled apart.

  “Yeah.” Cam grinned. “We’re good. Now, what the hell are you working on?”

  “It’s a comic.” Will handed the newly finished book he’d stapled himself to Cam, who flipped through it. “Oh, by the way, I think you should also know, in the interest of being honest, that I created a popular online comic with a character based on Stella. Vertigo is publishing it.”

  “Jesus H. Christ!” Cam buried his face in his hands. “How far does the deception go?”

  Will retrieved the comic he had made before Cam could crumple it in a fit of rage. It was the only copy, and Stella needed to see it. “That’s the last one, I promise.”

  “I didn’t have to know about that.” Then Cam took a deep breath. “No. I promised I’d be cool. You made a comic about her, fine. It’s getting published. Good for you.”

  “Wow!” Will’s eyebrows rose. “She really did it. She really put the fear of God into you.”

  “Shut up!” Cam screwed up his face. He stood from the bed and walked to the door. “Now come on. We better make an appearance at that show. She needs our moral support.”

  Tucking the comic into the back pocket of his jeans, Will stood from his desk and left the dorm with the biggest smile. His cheeks actually hurt.

  * * *

  STELLA WOUND A length of thread around her finger as she watched other dresses walk the runway on the monitor provided backstage, anxiously waiting her turn. A producer came to her workstation and gave her the five-minute warning. As one, Stella and the producer guided her statuesque model to the line of other models waiting to walk.

  All eyes were on her dress. Pride mixed with fear in her chest. Doubt crept in at the last second. What if Franklin had been right? What if the sleeves were all wrong? She had been grieving. She hadn’t been thinking straight. Hence the fight. Usually she listened to him.

  “Breathe,” she told herself, closing her eyes and imagining Tim Gunn standing right beside her the way he did with all the finalists when their collections walked on Project Runway.

  The line inched closer to the opening that led to the runway. Stella made eye contact with her model. She winked at Stella. A quiet calm spread over her as her dress rounded the corner and disappeared.

  Immediately, she shifted her eyes to the large monitor. Seconds later her dress walked out. The full skirt moved despite the layers and layers of tulle and chiffon. The crystals caught the light and glinted like stars in a teal sky. The corset gave the model a waist, and the sleeves that had worried her were the right touch, giving the dress an old-world feel. Fantasy come to life.

  Stella brought her clasped hands to her chest. Tears stung the corners of her eyes. Her nose grew stuffy. Her dream. The dream of every budding designer. Watching her dress walk the runway. It had come true. She pinched herself just to make sure she was awake.

  The camera moved with the model and caught two knuckleheads cheering enthusiastically. Beavis and Butt-Head back together again. Her brother was whooping while clapping his hands. At his side was Will. He’d come. Will was there, with his fingers in his mouth, whistling so loudly she could hear it all the way from where she stood. The tears she was holding back rolled down her cheeks, but unlike the ones she’d been crying for the past week, these were hopeful.

  Applause followed the exit of her dress. Stella saw nothing else as her model returned to her side. The tall woman leaned down and kissed both Stella’s cheeks. The words “They loved it” were whispered into her ear. All the blood in her body seemed to rush to her h
ead. It was too much. The emotions. The sensations. The idea that she’d just achieved something.

  Almost numb, Stella worked on autopilot, helping the model back to her workstation. All models had to stay in the dresses until the winner was announced. She fanned her own hot face with a piece of paper. It wasn’t enough to cool her down.

  Gasps and exclamations caught her attention. Actually, everyone backstage was watching the monitors. A massive black dress—more like an architectural piece—walked the runway.

  The skirt was made of studded leather. A giant wire-frame ball formed one shoulder. Spikes stuck out of the other shoulder. The makeup was black and fierce. The hair was styled into a spire on top of the model’s head. The bodice was a cage of some type of wire; Stella’s best guess was corrugated. She had used some once for an unconventional challenge with …

  “Franklin,” she breathed out.

  It was his dress walking the runway, and everyone was enamored with its beauty. It combined savagery and grace. The very definition of avant-garde. It was the future of fashion.

  Stella found herself moving to the front of the backstage area. Her eyes spotted Franklin’s neon-streaked hair. She stopped to stand by his side.

  Without taking her eyes off the screen—because how could she when something so beautiful walked?—she clasped Franklin’s hand in hers and said with the deepest sincerity, “You’re going to win.”

  “You think so?” asked her friend, voice shaking.

  Stella gathered him into her arms. He fell into her embrace and held on tight. Soon her shoulder grew damp. She held on tighter and whispered into his ear.

  “I’m so sorry for being so self-centered. It was unfair just to be thinking of myself. I should have been there for you.”

  “You were going through stuff,” Franklin said against her shoulder.

  “That doesn’t excuse the fact that I wasn’t there for you. Forgive me?”

  Franklin pushed back to look her in the eye. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

  Stella ran her thumb beneath his eye, catching one last tear. “Fashion should change minds. Do you remember who said that?”