Redesigned

by Denise Grover Swank

  “That’s great,” I say, trying to find some enthusiasm. I’m not sure why she couldn’t announce this during the meeting.

  “She said if you want to tell the other students to coordinate a time to come and take measurements, that would be great. But she told me that you had e-mailed and said you were using children for all of your designs, so she said you could come tomorrow afternoon if you like.”

  I nod. “Thanks. That’ll work with my schedule.” I start for the door.

  “Caroline, wait.”

  I pause, my back to her.

  She hesitates. “About Friday night.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. Oh, God. Did Reed tell her something happened between us? “Lexi, I don’t really want—”

  “I wasn’t trying to steal your date.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. I turn around with a tired smile. “Lexi, please don’t worry about it. Brandon is an awesome guy, but there was something missing. I just didn’t feel it with him.”

  “Because you feel something for Reed.”

  I feel light-headed and press my back to the door. “Why do you say that?”

  “I can see there’s something between you two.”

  I’m not sure how to answer her. She’s right, but I refuse to admit it and I refuse to deny it. I decide to risk my pride and ask the question I’m dying for an answer to. “Where’s Reed today?”

  She glances down then back up at me with a half-smile. “He’s sick.”

  That’s a lie, and we both know it.

  What did I expect? I reach for the doorknob. “I was serious when I said I don’t feel anything for Brandon. I hope he asks you out.” I swallow. “Is there anything else? Because I’m seriously behind on my project.”

  She blinks. “Sure … no….”

  I leave the room and hurry across campus to the design lab. I spent most of Saturday night and Sunday sketching and I have seven semi-completed designs. I groan, realizing I should have asked how many boys had volunteered. I can work on figuring the seven girls’ designs and then determine the rest when I know who my models are.

  I try again to push Reed from my mind, but it’s impossible. My imagination runs wild with reasons why he didn’t show up today and none of the conclusions are good. Part of my problem is that I’m not sure how I want this situation resolved. Do I want to date him? Doesn’t that question alone make what we did even more despicable? But whenever I think about Friday night there’s a tiny bit of guilt and the rest is molten desire.

  The answer is that I do want to sleep with him. That alone isn’t a basis for a relationship.

  For now, I need to focus on the fashion show and providing outfits for ten children who need a bright spot in their life. Nothing else matters.

  ***

  The next afternoon the October rains move in, coming down in sheets. I’ve forgotten an umbrella so I stand at the door to the Human Environmental Services building and wait. But I’m running late already. I need to measure ten children by five o’clock. My appointment is scheduled at four and it’s already three-fifty. Considering that it’s a fifteen-minute drive with no rain, I’m in trouble.

  I make a run for it, holding the canvas bag that holds my notebook and measuring tape over my head. It does little good at keeping me dry.

  My clothes are soaked by the time I get in my car. My long gauzy skirt twists between my legs and my white blouse is plastered to my skin, revealing every detail of my lacy white bra. I toss the bag into the passenger seat and turn the ignition. Nothing. I try again and realize I left my headlights on when I drove in this morning.

  Closing my eyes, I lean my forehead against the steering wheel and groan.

  My life sucks.

  There’s no way my car is going anywhere until I get a jump, and I can’t jump it until the rain lets up. I really need to measure the kids today. With the crazy tight schedule to get things done in time, I should have measured the kids last week and already had one design completed. I haven’t even begun to make patterns. Using children for all my designs is great in theory. But since I have no idea how old the children are, let alone their clothing size, I’m behind. At least there are standard model sizes for women and you only have to make adjustments for the fitting.

  I pull my phone out of my purse and call Lexi. “Hey, Lexi. This is Caroline. Can you call Evelyn and tell her I can’t come today? My car is in the student parking lot and the battery is dead. Maybe I can make it tomorrow.” My words are heavy with disappointment.

  “Wait.” She pauses. “The problem is your car, right?”

  “Yeah….”

  “I’m done with classes for the day. I’ll just pick you up and take you. Then you can get their measurements today.”

  “I hate to bother you.”

  “Oh, it’s not a bother at all. Besides, Evelyn said the girls were excited. You don’t want to disappoint them.”

  I don’t and I need to get started. I push my guilt ovr=er inconveniencing her away. “Okay.”

  “Great! I’ll call Evelyn and tell her that you’re running late because of the rain. I should be there in about fifteen to twenty minutes. What do you drive?”

  “A blue Ford Focus.” I’m embarrassed to tell her. It’s a clunker. I give her directions.

  “Okay, just sit tight in your car, and I’ll pull up right behind you. When I stop, hop out and run into my car. It’s the black Altima that we drove to the charity.”

  “Sounds great.”

  I spend the next fifteen minutes with my sketchbook. I have a couple of ideas for boys if any volunteered, but I also have an outfit in mind for Desiree. While the design theme is Everyday Living, I’m stepping out of the guidelines for her. Desiree wants to look like a princess and I’m going to make sure that happens.

  A car pulls up behind mine and idles. I can’t easily see through the rain, but it looks like Lexi’s sedan. I grab my bag and run for the door, climbing in. “Thanks, Lexi. I don’t—” I turn toward her and realize it’s Reed.

  Gasping in horror, I reach for the door handle. My worst nightmare has come true. I’m stuck in an enclosed space with Reed Pendergraft. My pulse races and my hormones spring to life, my body hyperaware of his and what he can do to me. What I want him to do to me.

  “Caroline, wait.” His hand grabs my arm and holds me in place.

  The skin where he touches reacts, my hair standing on end, and all I want to do is throw myself into his arms. I force out my words. “I was waiting for Lexi.”

  “She came by to get the car keys, but I told her I’d take you.” His words are clearly enunciated and seem carefully chosen.

  I take a deep breath in a desperate attempt to calm my jolted nerves. “Don’t you have a math lab now?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize he’ll know I’ve memorized his schedule. Just like a stalkerish jilted lover. Great.

  But he doesn’t seem to notice. “I got someone to cover it, so I have the afternoon free.”

  Scarlett works in the math lab, so I know how it works. There’s no way he could have found someone that quickly. “You didn’t have to do that.” Defensiveness rises to the surface. “I can go take the measurements tomorrow.”

  “I wanted to come, Caroline.” His voice is soft and pleading.

  I turn to him in surprise. “Why?”

  “We need to talk about what happened—”

  I bolt for the door handle. “No! No we don’t—”

  His fingers tighten their hold. “Caroline, we do. We can’t leave things the way we did Friday night.”

  I close my eyes and press my head against the seat. “I can’t do this now, Reed. I can’t risk getting upset before I go and measure these kids.”

  “It’s okay. We can talk afterward.”

  I nod. I might agree, but I hope I can find some way to permanently delay our discussion.

  Reed releases his grip and my arm screams in protest. Scarlett’s right. I have it bad, which is why being this close to Reed and alone in
the car is the worst idea ever. I’ll just make a fool of myself again.

  But I remind myself I’m a grown woman with a semi-functioning superego, even if my id tries to overrule. Self-control and I have been lifelong friends. I can’t let it abandon me now. I fold my hands in my lap, twining my fingers as we ride in silence. The only sound is the Coldplay album playing on the car audio system and the thump-thump of the windshield wipers.

  He’s stiff in his seat. He looks nervous.

  I cast a glance at him, but keep my body facing forward. “Tucker said he told you that he’d beat the crap out of you if you so much as talked to me. Tucker doesn’t make idle threats. Are you willing to risk it?”

  His mouth presses tight. “I’ll take my chances.”

  The rain has let up slightly when we reach the tutoring center, but Reed has an umbrella. He’s out of the car and holding it over my head when I get out.

  My hair has begun to dry, but my clothes are still damp and stuck to my body. I glance down and see that my white blouse is still transparent, giving Reed a perfect view of my bra.

  But he doesn’t look down. In fact, he keeps his eyes averted. “I have a jacket in the trunk. I can pull it out if you want to wear it inside.”

  I don’t want to take anything from him. I don’t want him to be so nice to me. It’s hard to be mad at him, and he deserves my anger. Still, I can’t go inside flashing my bra to a group of kids. “Yeah, thanks.”

  He leads me to the covered front porch then runs back to the trunk, pulling out a khaki jacket. When he reaches me, he holds it up to help me put it on. Reed, ever the gentleman. Until he looks at you in disgust after fucking you in a storage room.

  Stop. Just get this over with.

  When we walk in, the excited squeals coming from down the hall make me smile despite my anxiety over my personal life. Once again, I need a reality check. There are bigger problems than my own.

  Evelyn isn’t in the tutoring annex, but the tutors are expecting us. One young woman looks familiar. I think she might have been in my French class in my sophomore year.

  I extend my hand. “Hi, I’m Caroline Hunter, and this is Reed Pendergraft. We’re both on the fashion show committee. I’m also a design student and I’m here to take measurements of some of the children.”

  The girl shakes my hand, then Reed’s, her eyes lingering on him. She gives him a flirty smile. “I’m Bethany, and we’ve been expecting you. The kids are very excited.”

  A twinge of jealousy stirs in my head. I’m the one measuring the kids. Why is she talking to him? Because Reed Pendergraft is one sexy man, especially since I know what’s under that blue dress shirt and I know what he can do with what’s hidden beneath his gray dress pants.

  “Are you okay?” Bethany asks. “You look a little flushed.”

  Great. Now I’ve been caught daydreaming about Reed’s body. “I’m fine. It’s a little warm in here.”

  “Do you want me to take your coat?” she asks reaching for it.

  “No.” If I stop thinking about Reed, I’ll be fine, but that’s hard to do when he’s standing so close to me. “I’ll keep it for now.”

  “Okay.” She looks around the room. “Where would you like to do this?”

  “We can do it anywhere. I’m measuring over their clothes so there won’t be any modesty issues.”

  “Very good. We’ll just take you to a classroom and bring the students to you. Evelyn has already assigned them to the design students.” She leads us to Desiree’s room, which is empty. “We thought this room would be easier because there’s more space. Margery is getting the children now.”

  The girls pour into the room, giggling with excitement. Reed stands in the corner watching the children like they’re hyenas about to attack.

  I set my bag on the table and pull out my notebook, pen and tape measure. I’m excited to see two boys in the group, but I notice Desiree is missing.

  “Where’s Desiree?”

  “She’s sick today,” one of the little girls answers.

  I hide my disappointment. I’ll just come back to measure her. It’s not convenient, but I’ll make it work.

  I study the excited group, trying to figure out whom to start with. The girls are giggly, but the boys have begun to roughhouse. “Why don’t we measure the boys first, then send them back to their rooms?”

  Bethany laughs. “Great idea. You must have worked with kids before.”

  “Nah, I had a brother.”

  Bethany looks over her shoulder. “Mark, you’re first.” He approaches with a shy smile, refusing to look at me.

  “Hi, Mark. I’m Caroline, and I’m going to take your measurements.”

  He nods, but he looks nervous.

  “How old are you?”

  “Nine.” His eyes dart from me to Reed in the corner.

  “It won’t hurt at all, okay.” I hold up the measuring tape. “See? This is all I’ll use and then I’ll write the measurements down.”

  Reed moves next me and pulls out a chair, sitting on the tiny seat. He looks like a giant in Lilliput. His dress pants, blue dress shirt and yellow tie make him look even more out of place. Several of the kids snicker.

  Reed makes an exaggerated face to make them laugh and looks around in mock surprise. “What?”

  I stare at him for a moment. With his gruff exterior, I never expected him to tolerate children, let alone entertain them. There’s more to the guy than I expected.

  Mark keeps his eyes on Reed.

  “That’s Reed. He’s going to watch.”

  Reed reaches over and picks up the notebook and pen. “Reed is going to help.”

  I give him a questioning look. “You don’t have to do that. Your responsibilities only include playing chauffeur.”

  “I want to help. I’ll write down everything you tell me to. I promise I won’t screw it up.” He glances at Mark and grimaces. “I mean mess it up.”

  Mark continues to watch Reed and he’s less fidgety and stiff. Reed’s helped the boy relax.

  I lean close to Reed. His scent fills my nose and goes straight to my head. If I was standing, my knees would go weak. Over his scent. I give myself a mental shake. Get yourself together. I avoid looking into his face as I point to the paper. “Okay, but write these vertically: shoulders, chest, waist, hips, torso, legs, shoulder to floor.”

  Reed writes them down without comment in tight, legible script. I was worried I’d have trouble deciphering his handwriting later, but it turns out Reed’s handwriting is neater than mine.

  I turn to Mark and spin him around so I can see his back. “Are you excited about the fashion show?”

  He shrugs.

  “You look more like a sports kind of guy.” Reed says, tapping the pen on the notebook. “Do you play soccer?”

  “Yeah,” Mark answers as I measure his shoulders.

  I tell Reed the measurement, then spin Mark to face me.

  “Do you know Tucker Price?” Reed asks.

  Mark’s eyes light up as I slip the measuring tape around his back to measure his chest. “Everybody knows about Tucker Price.”

  Tucker was Southern’s claim to fame—acclaimed soccer star who got recruited by the Chicago Fire his junior year. The entire town would show up for Southern’s home games just to watch him play.

  “Well, Caroline is good friends with Tucker.”

  Mark’s mouth drops. “You are?”

  I wink. “I am. In fact, I just saw him a couple of days ago.”

  His mouth forms a disapproving frown. “Why’d he quit the Chicago Fire?”

  I wrap the tape around his waist. “Professional soccer is a lot of work and it wasn’t fun for him anymore.”

  His eyes narrow as he considers my answer then his eyes light up. “Math’s not fun. Can I quit it?”

  I laugh. “Good try, but I should warn you about this guy”—I point to Reed with my thumb—“He’s going to school to teach math. I think you might have insulted him.”

  Ma
rk looks unimpressed as he turns to Reed. “What about you? Are you friends with Tucker Price?”

  “As a matter of fact,” Reed pauses, writing something in the margin. “I met him just the other day and he promised to let me get to know him even better.” He gives Mark a smirk.

  I watch Reed for several seconds. He fully expects Tucker to enforce some type of physical punishment. And yet he’s here anyway. Why?

  “Cool….” Mark’s impressed with Reed’s answer, oblivious to what he meant.

  Reed snorts and shakes his head.

  We finish Mark’s measurements then Bethany sends over the next boy.

  By the time I’ve measured seven kids, Reed and I have worked out a system. He writes down measurements, and I notice that he’s adding notes about each child’s age, personality and interests.

  We finish measuring Brittany, a twelve-year-old girl who wants to be a model when she grows up, and the crazy thing is that she has the frame and face for it. “Brittany, could you wait a second?” I ask. “I want to draw a quick sketch.”

  I reach for the notebook as Reed hands it over, our fingers brushing and sending a jolt to my core. No touching.

  But I quickly forget Reed as I study Brittany, sketching a skirt and fitted shirt with ruffles, matched with a pair of boots and a purse. She looks the drawing over when I’m done and squeals. “Is that what I’m wearing at the fashion show?”

  I laugh. “I’m not sure yet, but you definitely have the figure of a model so I’d like to make sure you look like one when you strut down the runway. Let me see your runway walk.”

  She looks self-conscious as she walks across the room, bowing her head.

  “You can do better than that,” I tease, standing and handing the notebook to Reed. “If you want to be a model, I’m sure you’ve watched America’s Next Top Model.” My shirt has dried and the room is stuffy with so many bodies in a small space. I slide Reed’s jacket off and lay it on the table.

  “Yeah….”

  “What would Tyra or Ms. J say about that walk? You need to look fierce.” I lift my chin. “Head high, shoulders back, then walk with a strut, moving your hips, but not too much, crisscrossing your feet as you walk. Like this.” I put my hands lightly on my hips and walk, a stern look on my face, and the girls giggle. I walk back across the room, demonstrating how to pivot. “Now you try it.”