I should have known my day was going to end on a terrible note when it took me two hours to fall asleep. I was half stuck on my frustration over being trapped with a strange driver who existed on a high plane of annoyance, with his weird nicknames for everything and his insistence that he worked in a karaoke car, and half distracted by the memories turned into nightmares that the love letter had brought to the surface.
The images all swirled around in my head until I found myself in the thick of dreams that felt so real that I could almost taste the tears that set the scenes to a blurry backdrop. Have you ever had dreams where the visuals aren't clear but the emotions that try to swallow you whole are impossible to ignore? That's what it felt like. It hurt to breathe, to feel, to be anything at all.
The doorbell rang, loud and insistent, yanking me from my deep, mind-numbing sleep. It blared through my apartment, echoing loudly as the doorbell rang over and over demanding to be heard. Rubbing my eyes, I scrambled from the bed, and threw the front door open with little thought to who was going to be on the other side.
"WHAT?!?" I hissed, angry at being woken up five minutes after I had finally managed to fall asleep.
Tate stood there, immaculately dressed in a deep blue suit and a deep red tie that sat slightly askew. His eyes went wide when he saw me. I instinctively looked down and realized I had answered the door wearing a large white t-shirt and nothing else.
The shirt did little to hide my bare legs or anything under the shirt. It was just long enough to cover my butt. OH MY GOSH...
He yanked his eyes away from my outfit and focused on my face at the same moment that I yanked down my shirt. "Is this a new fashion look or something?" His cheeks betrayed his amused tone by taking on a slightly pink tint.
Reaching over to the couch next to the door, I tugged a fuzzy blanket around my shoulders, draping it around myself like an anti-gawking cloak. "What are you doing here?" I asked staring at his shoes, beyond embarrassed.
"If you are going to drag me out of bed at an unholy hour, the least you can do is show up."
"What are you talking about? What are you doing here?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.
"What do you mean what am I doing here? You asked me to pick you up thirty minutes ago!"
"IT'S THREE IN THE MORNING. WHAT ARE YOU ON?" I snapped.
He narrowed his eyes, holding up his phone. "What are you on? It's seven."
"Ah, Frick!" I groaned whirling and running back into my apartment. "Sorry."
Tate leaned against the doorframe, watching me run around my living room. I was torn between hunger, needing a shower, and wanting to just slam the door in his face.
"Come in. I'll be ready in five minutes!" I promised. Lies! my brain shouted in response. "Want coffee?" I asked, pulling the blanket tighter around myself.
Tate shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels watching me run around, a ghost of a smile on his face. "Sure."
"Good. Make some. I'll be right back." He snorted as I ran towards my room, leaving him to figure out how to get the coffee maker to work.
I didn't have time for a shower today. I had to be at a fashion shoot in forty minutes. Instead, I threw off my blanket like an evil villain revealing their identity and chucked clothes around my room like a fashion hurricane, trying to find something quick and comfortable to wear. How I wish I could show up to work in sweats! If it were any other kind of job I would.
Yanking on a blue jumper, I added a red belt to synch it in. Then I pulled my hair up into a bun and added a red headband to finish off the 1940's fashion statement. Pulling on black ankle boots, I slapped on some mascara and prayed it was enough to not look like the frazzled, out of sorts, chaos dragon of fashion that I was.
Then, bolting back out of the room, I found Tate in the kitchen. He had removed his suit jacket and sat at the kitchen counter in his white button-down shirt. One set of long fingers were wrapped around a black coffee mug, while the others lifted the last of a donut up to his mouth.
His eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the last of a chocolate glazed donut. His lips had a small smear of chocolate on them, drawing my attention to two things. One. He had a very nice mouth. And two, I was hungry. I felt like I had walked in on a private moment. And I didn't feel that guilty about it.
My stomach growled loudly, destroying my unseen moment of staring. Tate's eyes flew open to find me staring. "Want some of this?" he asked.
I coughed, shocked by his forwardness. "Um... what?"
He held up a bag of donuts I hadn't seen. "I have more donuts if you want one."
"Oh, that." I let out an uneasy breath, laughing. "No thanks."
He tilted his head, eyes sparking with amusement. "What did you think I was talking about?"
I waved my arm, trying to end the conversation. "Nothing."
He leaned back on his stool, analyzing me for a moment. Beautiful green eyes searching mine. "I wasn't offering myself up on a silver platter Allie."
I rolled my eyes. "I know thaâ"
"What kind of guy do you take me for?" he asked in a teasing tone.
I walking towards the coffee machine. "A crazy one," I muttered.
The coffee pot was empty. He had drunk it all. "Don't get me wrong, I am flattered, but we barely know each other," he continued, trying not to laugh.
"I get it!" I snapped, whirling around.
I suddenly came face to face with a coffee thermos. "Thought you'd want yours to go. Didn't add anything to it though. Don't know what you take your coffee with." I pursed my lips, irritated that he had done something nice. It made it harder to be mad at him.
"I take my coffee black," I replied dryly, taking the peace offering in coffee form.
His eyes went wide. "That's insane." Aaaaand the anger is back.
I narrowed my eyes. "Anything else to add to my list of faults?"
The amusement left his eyes, replaced with an unreadable expression. "I'm not trying to piss you off."
I crossed my arms. "Really? Because you are very good at it. In fact... it seems to be the ONLY thing you are good at!"
Surprise flashed through his eyes, there and gone in an instant, replaced by a smile that didn't fully reach his eyes. "Ouch."
We walked to the elevator in awkward silence. The silence grew to uncomfortable heights until I suddenly didn't know what to do with my hands. How to stand casually. Everything felt weird until the elevator opened, letting us out of our awkward little box and back out into the world. "You really don't like me do you?" Tate glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes.
I sighed. "Don't take it personally, I don't like most people."
He snorted but didn't say anything. I shoved my hands into my jumper pockets and closed my eyes, embarrassed by how quickly he had rubbed me the wrong way. By how fast I lashed out. New record. "I... I shouldn't have said that," I murmured.
Tate waved his hand, washing away my comment like water off a ducks back. "It's fine. Let's just get you to where you need to be."
As the car arrived at my office, the lack of smiles and irritating conversation was almost worse than the deeply uncomfortable silence. It felt like someone had sucked the sunshine right out of the world. You did that, you idiot. You killed the freaking sunshine.
All I could think about was the flash of surprise that filled his green eyes. The smile that hadn't reached his eyes.
Susan quickly yanked open the front door of Winters and began to push dozens of outfits on a clothing rack out towards the car. "Oh good. You're here!" Susan said between deep breaths as she tried to yank another clothing crack covered in our fashion shoot clothes out the front door.
She rolled both clothing racks up to Tate's car as I got out. "Will all this fit in the car?"
I jumped when I heard Tate's voice behind me. He had gotten out of the car and proceeded to tilt the first clothing rack until it could slide into the back seat. Adjusting the hanging clothes, he reached out his hand for Susan to pass him the second one. "Yeah, it will be a tight squeeze but it'll fit," he answered.
Tate quickly maneuvered in the second clothing rack and then turned to smile at Susan. "Hi, I'm Tate."
She smiled brightly at him as he held out his hand to shake hers. Her cheeks turned pink as his hand enveloped hers. "Hi..." she breathed. "I'm... I'm Susan." She giggled uncontrollably for a moment.
I cleared my throat, pulling her back to her senses. "Oh... I'll meet you at the fashion shoot, Allie." Susan shot Tate another smile, a little flushed "Bye." Then she bolted back into the building.
I had never seen her so out of sorts. "She seems nice," Tate said, turning back to me with an amused grin. "You ready to go?"
"Yep." I moved to climb into the back seat, but Tate reached the door handle before me, blocking my effort.
"There's no room for you."
I stared up at him, confused, trapped between the door and Tate. The smell of his heavenly cologne wafted over me as he looked down, forest green eyes glinting with mischievous intent. "Um... what?" I breathed. "You saidâ"
"I said all the items would fit. Not you."
Anger rolled through me, barely controlled. "Are you serious?!?"
He nodded. "You'll have to take another car..." He stepped back offering me a chance to breathe as he walked towards the front of the car. "That is, unless you are okay with sitting in the passenger's seat upfront?" He opened the door for me. "I know being in my presence irritates you to no end so... choice is up to you."
Dimples flashed across his cheeks as his smile grew, dark green eyes appraising. "You can always call one of those Ubers or Lyfts that you love so much."
I walked up to him, eyes ablaze as I stopped a foot away, chin tilted up in defiance. "You are not going anywhere with my clothes."
He chuckled. "Then I suggest you get in Fire Hydrant Girl. Your nondamaged chariot awaits."
"I hate you," I muttered, yanking the door free from his fingers and climbing inside.
He leaned over the door frame, chocolate brown strands falling into his face. "I know. But I am determined to change that." Then he closed the door, cutting off my protests.
Stupid joking hot driver.
...
We arrived at the warehouse where the fashion shoot was being held after another awkwardly silent ride. The large brick building had tall windows, filling the large space inside with glistening natural light. Tate moved to climb out of the car and help pull the clothes out of the back seat. I waved him away. "I got it."
"You sure? They are packed in there pretty tightâ"
I snorted, and raised a brow at him. "I'm pretty sure I can handle pulling some clothes out of the car, thank you very much."
But as with everything else that seemed to go wrong in Tate's presence, it wasn't as simple as pulling some clothes out of the back seat of a car. The clothing racks were packed in tight, making it nearly impossible to tilt one through the door. I stared at the rack, angry at its existence. Angry that I had so quickly dismissed Tate's help. But most of all, I was angry that he was watching me stare at the trapped clothes like a helpless idiot. CRAP!
So, instead of relenting and asking for help, I struggled uselessly to get the first rack of clothes out of the car. I could feel Tate's eyes on me, waiting for my inevitable failure. Waiting for me to ask him for help. Stupid Tate. Stupid clothes. Stupid stubborn Allie.
I refused to ask for help. I was determined to find the right angle to get the clothes out. Even though having him watch me struggle to yank one of the clothing racks out of the car was almost as embarrassing. HOW DID HE GET THESE IN HERE?!?! FREAKING NINJA!
After nearly falling over on my butt, when I lost my grip on one of the racks and stumbling backwards, I finally turned to Tate with gritted teeth. He was watching me struggle from the front seat, head tilted to the side, sporting a knowing smile. "Did you need something?"
I swallowed a string of curses. "Just help me get these things out of your stupid car."
He salluted me before slipping out of the car. "You're the boss." He moved past me, adjusted the clothing racks, and had them out in one easy slide.
I stared at him, dumbfounded. "How...?" It was like watching magic. He made it look easy. Irritatingly, fantastically easy.
Tate laughed, as he began to push both clothing racks towards the warehouse, his voice filling the air, delighted. "Impressed?"
I rolled my eyes. But couldn't seem to bring myself to lie. "A little."
"Good to know."
I opened the door to the warehouse, so he could push the racks inside and was immediately bombarded by panicked tones. Susan nodded silently as the photographer flailed his arms in angry protest. He sported a red scarf half flung over his shoulder and thick green spectacles. "I REFUUUUUUUSE TO WAIT ALL DAY!" he shouted for the whole warehouse to hear.
Spotting me, Susan broke away and ran up to me, her eyes wild. "We have a problem." She didn't wait for me to ask. She knew better now, panic-talking as fast as she could to get me up to speed. "The models didn't show up. They were sniped by Laurence Royal."
I swore internally. Laurence Royal was our direct competitor. A complete jerk face who did everything in his power to irk me, steal my ideas and now he was trying to sabatogue my shoot by stealing my models. "We need replacements as soon as possible." Susan tilted her head slightly, referring to the photographer behind her who was stamping around in a dramatic outrage. "He's gonna lose it if we don't start shooting soon."
Something caught Susan's attention over my shoulder. "What about him?" I turned to watch Tate adjust one of the pully's bringing it to a stop next to the makeup counter.
"What about him?"
Susan's eyes grew bright with delight. "He could totally model!"
I shook my head. Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no way.
"Why not? He's the right build for the clothes." Susan openly stared at him, drinking him in like a girl about to die of dehydration. "And he's got striking eyes. You can get lost in the green if you aren't careful."
"Sounds like you are already lost." Lost your mind.
Susan looked back at me, suddenly embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry. Is he your... umm... your..."
I waved my arms, in a panicked gesture. "What? No way in hell. He's just my driver."
She looked relieved, clearly getting ideas. "Let's give him a shot!" She looked him over again, her light brown eyes trailing up and down his figure. "After all, we won't be able to get another model today..."
She was right. Tate was perfect for it. And although the idea of him sticking around for the shoot wasn't my favorite, I had too much pride in my company to let my personal feelings of awkwardness ruin everything I had worked for.
After a beat to mentally prepare to watch him grin like an idiot at my request, I waved him over.
"How do you feel about modeling for us today?" Susan blurted, seeming incapable of controlling herself around Tate. If there was a way to use Tate to help people confess to crimes they had committed, I was very tempted to monopolize it. It could be very useful...
Tate looked between Susan and me with a raised brow. "Are you serious?"
Unfortunately. "Yes," I said after a pause.
"We are kind of in a bind. And you would be saving our butts," Susan continued, with ZERO attempt to look anything other than completely desperate. Girl chill!
Tate suddenly looked flustered. "...I don't know." He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away.
"I'll owe you," I said trying to sound more in control of the situation than I was.
He sighed, a war going on in his mind as he stared off, brow furrowed. He shoved his hands into his pockets. "I really don't think you want meâ"
"OH WE DO!" Susan cried, making her post-work hour intentions blatantly clear. Then she cleared her throat. "It would be a great service to us."
Tate looked over at me, searching my face. "Is there anyone else?"
I shook my head, feeling the panic pool at the center of my stomach. If Laurence Royal had thought to snipe my models, I already knew he would have the foresight to snipe anyone else on my list. "Not on such short notice."
"You'll look great in the clothes. Completely irresistible. Allie's taste is amazing," Susan offered, hoping to win him over.
I took in a deep breath and used the only move I had left. Something I never used. I let go of my pride, my anger, my desire to keep a bitter wall of protection around me and just... asked. "Please, Tate." My voice came out surprisingly soft. So quiet that I was surprised when a strange look of surprise came over Tate's face.
"I would really appreciate your help."
Tate looked at me for a long moment, making me nervous under his gaze as he seemed to read something inside of me that I wasn't ready to share. I was fully prepared for him to reject my request. I didn't normally ask. At least not in such an open way.
And just when I thought he was going to make a joke, or run off, terrified of the idea, he swallowed and nodded, relenting. "Okay."
Before I could respond, he was ushered off towards hair and makeup, shooting me a look of uncertainty as he was swarmed by several makeup girls, holding up different foundations to his face.
I couldn't help but laugh. Okay, maybe this will be fun.
Susan turned to look at me. "You down?"
"Down for what?"
"We need a female model... Both of the models got sniped."
I swore, thinking about how incredibly awkward standing for hours under hot lights next to Tate would be. Especially since I had been such a jerk earlier. "Is there anyone else? Want to do it?" I asked Susan, knowing how much more the idea would appeal to her.
She shook her head, looking terrified. "No way. Please don't make me." She looked like she was going to throw up, her face paling at the idea.
I patted her back awkwardly as she doubled over to get more air into her lungs. "There, there..." I said in what I hoped was a soothing tone. "That's okay." I wasn't very good at making people feel better. I tended to be the one causing the emotional turmoil, not fixing it.
I forced the next set of words out of my mouth, wishing the day was already over. "I'll do it."
Susan looked relieved, even if still a little pale.
"Just don't pass out..." I warned. "I need your eyes. If I can't watch the shoot, I need you to." Susan stood up straight, surprised.
Excitement sparked in her eyes. "Really?" she squeaked. "Are you joking?"
I crossed my arms. "I don't joke about work." She nodded, trying to hide her smile.
"You've seen me run a shoot enough times. The photographer will be calling the shots, but make sure he gets shots that show off the clothes, not just... the models." The last set of words were incredibly painful to say. I didn't want to be ordered around in front of bright lights for the next several hours.
"You'll do great!" Susan insisted. "Your clothes are amazing and if any of us can pull it off, it's you." She began to push me towards the changing room.
I nodded, doubtful. "Let's see how this goes..."
---
Thank you for reading chapter four! I hope you are enjoying the story! Or are at least curious to see where it goes!
UPDATE DAYS - A NEW CHAPTER EVERY FRIDAY!
How do you think the fashion photoshoot will go?
Will Tate be a good model? Why do you think he was so nervous about the idea of being a model?
How will Allie do?
What kind of clothes do you think they will be wearing?
Will both of them work well together on camera, or will it be a total disaster?
Do you think Tate is always all smiles, or do you think he just pretends to be as happy as he is?
CHAPTER QUESTION - Have you ever been stuck in an awkward silence after an argument? Were you able to make it better or did you just sit in the awkwardness?