Dear Journal,

I think I might be on the right path.

Tonight, I invited May over to my studio. After our talk at the fashion show, I wanted to help her find that new outlook we discussed. The studio, usually my private sanctuary, felt more alive with her presence, her curiosity and energy breathing new life into the space.

May arrived looking a bit apprehensive but determined. I greeted her with a smile, trying to ease her nerves. We settled in, and I showed her my current projects before diving into her designs. She had brought a portfolio, full of raw ideas yet they were brimming with potential.

I couldn't help but wonder if James was blind, or just stupid. (He's both by the way.)

We spent hours going through her sketches, me giving pointers here and there, suggesting tweaks and encouraging her creativity. Her passion and vision were clear, and I became more and more captivated by her talent. She had an eye for detail and a sense of style that was uniquely her own.

As the evening wore on, we lost track of time. My stomach growled, and I realised we hadn't eaten. Apologizing for my lack of culinary skills, I ordered takeout from a nearby restaurant.

May laughed when I confessed my ineptitude in the kitchen, and the sound was like music to my ears.

While we waited for the food, we continued to work, the studio filled with the soft glow of lamps and the hum of our conversation.

When was the last time I felt at peace? A nice conversation and warm, relaxing atmosphere?

She wasn't what I was expecting...I couldn't help but notice how lovely she looked, her focus intense as she made notes and adjustments to her designs.

I'm a man. I have needs but I'm not going to impose them in May. I was trying to lure her to my brand, not into my bed. That would go horribly wrong, I'd have nothing left to rescue from the ashes. I would get away scorched but she would be burnt by a crisp. I'm not above using people to get what I want but it just didn't seem fair to me.

A thought crept into my mind: would this woman be my undoing?

My plan was simple. I was supposed to enter her life bit by bit till I gained her trust and eventually her talent.

Where did it go wrong?

May is a complex woman, layered and intricate. She knows what she wants, even if she sometimes doubts her ability to achieve it. The vulnerability she's shown me feels like a gift, something precious and rare. But I can't help but wonder: does this make me special to her, or am I simply a friend she trusts in a moment of need?

The takeout arrived, breaking the spell of our creative flow. Thank god because I don't want to go down that train of thought.

We ate on the floor, amidst sketches and fabric samples, laughing and talking about everything and nothing. It felt natural, and comfortable, like a glimpse into a future I hadn't dared to imagine.

As the night drew to a close, I walked her to the door. "Thank you for tonight," she said, her eyes reflecting the warm light of the studio. "It meant a lot to me."

"It was my pleasure," I replied, meaning every word. "We should do this again soon."

She smiled, a hint of shyness mixed with gratitude. "I'd like that."

Would it be shameless of me to admit that my gaze lingered on her lips—covered in red gloss, strawberry flavoured I assumed—and then her warm eyes? If I tempted her to stay...would that be too much?

Do I want that?

Before I could do something stupid, she walked past the threshold of my door, a bright smile on her face.

I watched her walk down the hallway, a mixture of emotions swirling within me.

It's definitely true, I'm fucked.

There's a connection and I'm certain she felt that too.  It felt both exhilarating and terrifying. I couldn't predict where it would lead, but for now, I was content to let it unfold naturally.

Now I'm back in the empty studio, the quietness felt different—less lonely, more filled with promise. May had left an imprint on this space. She wasn't supposed to make a dent but I could feel her presence like a ghost.

Even now, I can still smell her perfume.

Much to do,

- Alexander