My favorite part of Project Runway was when Tim Gunn walked around the room and critiques the designers' work. He offered up helpful advice and a different perspective. Seeing how the contestants took his critiques was always entertaining.

Being on the receiving end of that—with not one, but three Tim Gunns— was not as fun.

In the few hours I had while they were at practice I drew up a few new designs based on the trends I saw at school. The sketches were rushed and lacking my usual flare. But I needed something to show them and the previous designs weren't going to cut it.

My usual designs were a mash up of patterns and textures. They were loud compared to what the people at school wore. If I wanted the fashion show to be a success, and to actually make a profit, then I had to stick to what was trending now.

The girls talked excitedly as they looked over the few designs I had. They seemed to like them. However, that didn't stop the voice in my head telling me that the designs were trash.

"These are really good." The compliment broke through my negative thoughts, chipping away at some of the doubt I had.

The praise came from Jem, who wore a wide smile on her freckled face as she placed the sketches back into the folder.

"Thanks." My voice was barely above a whisper, if I spoke any louder, they probably would've heard how shaky it sounded.

It was nice to know that they liked the designs. But what if no one else did? What if no one bought them and we couldn't raise the funds for the new uniforms?

"Loren, that was a compliment. You're not supposed to look like you're heading to get root canal," Chelsea commented, taking another bite of her salad.

I straightened up in the chair, trying to look like I wasn't in distress as I forced on a smile.

"No, it's just that there's so much to do in only a few weeks," I told them, sipping on my soda to cure my dry mouth. "There's still a lot to do with picking models, choosing a theme and setting up bidding."

"Don't worry, we have that all under control," Kimber announced, pulling out a glittering, pink planner. She opened it up, showing me her detailed plans. "Everyone has their individual tasks. Chelsea is working out the pricing for the tickets and clothes. Riley is working on the stage, lighting, etcetera. Jem's looking for models. I'm doing promotion and making sure everything goes as planned," she said, all in one breath. "Oh, and all you have to worry about is making the clothes and if you need any help—"

"I prefer to work alone," I cut in, quickly. If last weekend was any indication of what was to come, I didn't want anyone around to witness any self-loathing and possible tears.

"Are you sure? Because I can have two girls at your side to help with the sewing," she offered.

"I'm sure."

She nodded, jotting something down in her planner. "Well, now that we have fashion plans done we—"

"Oh my gosh," Chelsea's mouth gaped open, a fork full of leafy greens hung in mid-air. "Is he being serious?"

When I turned around, the first thing I saw was a giant, white bear, dressed in a Christmas sweater. It grabbed the attention of everyone in the diner.

Owen's face peeked out from behind the bear that was nearly bigger than him. Chelsea let out an exasperated sigh, her chair screeched loudly as she stood up. The smile Owen wore faded as she marched over to him, tugging him out of the diner by his sleeve.

Owen had been apologizing to Chelsea every day since I've gotten to Westbrook. It was unclear what he did. Whatever it was must've been serious because Chelsea showed no sign of forgiving him. But he showed no signs of giving up.

"That is so sad," Kimber frowned, watching the couple as they had a very serious looking talk right outside the diner. "They're, like, perfect for each other. And Chelsea is letting one tiny little hiccup keep them apart."

Jem's dark eyes seemed darker as they shot over to her sister, an incredulous look on her face. "'A tiny little hiccup?' You're kidding right?"

Jem then turned to me. "Tell me, Loren, if you told someone you've been dating for almost a year that you loved them and they said nothing back, would you continue in that relationship?"

I blinked, unsure of how to answer that since I'd never been in that situation. Fortunately, my answer wasn't needed because Kimber cut in.

"Just because he didn't say it doesn't mean he's not in love with her," she argued. "I mean, you really think he'd be doing all of this if he didn't love her?"

She made a good point. Last week Owen hijacked the morning announcements to apologize for the hundredth time. My knowledge of Owen was limited to his perverted sense of humor, but he didn't seem like the type of guy to look that desperate for a girl he didn't care deeply about.

"If he loved her he'd back off and let her decide if she wants him back," Jem retorted. "He wouldn't try to force her to take him back."

Jem also made a valid point. If I had to pick a side, I'd side with Jem.  Being left alone to sort everything out would've been better than constantly being bothered with gifts and apologies.

"If he left her alone how would she know he cared?" Kimber defended.

"If he cared he'd give her some space," Jem bit back, collecting her purse and standing. "Not that you would know anything about that."

With that she left, leaving her sister slightly stunned. I don't think I've ever seen them have an argument. And I didn't feel like that one was completely about Chelsea and Owen. It felt like a bad omen.

Kimber tucked some of her platinum strands back behind her ear, brushing of whatever bad vibes were left behind in Jem's wake. "Was there anything else we needed to discuss regarding the fashion show?" She asked, getting back to business.

"No," I replied a little too quickly.  Everyone else had already left and with that not-so-subtle argument she just had with Jem, I doubted that she'd want to keep talking about the show.

"I guess this meeting is done," she announced, grabbing her bag. "See you at school."

+ + +

"Oh, Lo, you haven't changed at all," Nikki laughed over the phone, which I had on speaker as I laid on my floor working on my history homework.

I'd just finished telling her about what happened with Miles on Friday.

"What are you talking about?"

"You get mad possessive over the guys you like," she told me and I snorted. That was a lie. "You know it's the truth. You did it with Jerrell. Now you're doing with Miles, and you're not even with him!"

I scoffed, offended by her accusations. "That's bull."

"Why else would you be tripping over him talking to other girls?"

I did get annoyed whenever she was brought up. It wasn't because I was possessive or jealous. It was because she was vindictive and sneaky. Anyone would get a headache at the mention of her name.

"You haven't met her," I said, drawing a mustache on the picture of some old, foreign leader in my text book. "And you haven't seen the way Miles acts around her. She says 'jump' and he asks 'how high?'."

"And they're not together?"

"Not according to Miles," I sighed, erasing the mustache from the picture. I wasn't getting fined for that.

Nikki sucked in a sharp breath. "Well, cuz, you have two options: Forget about your little crush or tell him and see what happens. My vote is for the second option."

"I'll go with option one," I told her, brushing eraser bits from my book. "Boys are not on the agenda."

"Why the hell not?" She demanded.

"Let's see, last month I made out with my ex who I haven't seen in years," I recalled, the memory making me cringe. "Clearly, I don't do my best thinking when there are boys involved."

"Alright, it's your choice," she sighed. "Anyways, speaking of Jerrell, he was asking about you the other day. He said you been ignoring him since his party."

"Yeah, so?" His messages still sat unread on my phone. I didn't know if I wanted to delete them and block his number or apologize for jumping on him that night.

"You're cold, Lo," she laughed. "Look, I gotta go clean up the kitchen before Mom gets back. But I think you should give Miles a chance. You need to get over your fear of feelings."

After ending the call, I tried to focus on my World History homework. My mind was elsewhere, though. Despite my best efforts, my thoughts were plagued by boys. Specifically, boys named Miles Hanson. 

Nikki was right, I was afraid of feelings. Broken feelings. The ones that felt like open wounds full of salt. If there was a way I could only open myself up to the good feeling, then I would. That's not possible, though. I had to get both the good and the bad. I'd rather live with no feeling at all.

There was no way I was getting any work done. Standing up from the floor I ventured downstairs. Mom was at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee in front of her and her phone in her hand. From the sound effects coming from the device, I knew she was playing a game.

"Hey," I greeted, opening the fridge and frowning at the selection. Closing the door, I let out a sigh. Nothing looked good.

"Hey, how was school?" she asked, pausing her game and looking up at me.

"You tell me, you were there," I half-joked, sitting in the chair beside her. There was a fruit bowl in the center of the table and I grabbed a banana.

She let out a laugh.

"Yeah, you could've offered me a ride home," I said, peeling the fruit.

"I was heading back to work."

"What were you doing at the school anyway?"

"Just following up with a patient." She shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee.

"At their job?" I questioned suspiciously. "Wait, was this patient a man?"

She smiled innocently over her mug. "Yes. And don't worry, he's not one of your teachers."

That was a relief. The two male teachers I had were both married.

"I thought you weren't supposed to date patients?"

"No, I'm not because I'm a pediatric nurse and that would be illegal," she chuckled.

Right, I forgot that small detail.

"So, he has a kid?" I questioned, breaking a small piece of the banana and popping it into my mouth.

"Yes, a ten year old son," she replied. "You always wanted a sibling, right?"

My eyes widened slightly. "You're that serious?"

"We could be, now that you're not—" she stopped herself, her coffee mug unable to hide the regret on her face.

"Depressed and needy?"

"I didn't mean it like that, Loren."

"No, it's fine. I get it." I smiled genuinely.

What Miles said about destiny came back to me. If Mom was meant to be with any of her past boyfriends for the long haul, then it would've happened. Thinking that blocked out the idea that I'd been keeping her from finding love again. "Tell me about him."