Page 32 of Picking Daisies on Sundays

I went back to measuring and pinning, now retrieving the pins from his hands. When his jacket was pinned, I moved to his pant legs, bending down to lean on my knees.

I’ve had male models to work on clothes for before, so this wasn’t the first time I ran my hands against a man’s legs to get a feel for the extra fabric. But, oh my, they never looked nearly as heartbreakingly beautiful as Levi’s. I never thought I’d be so close to him before, let alone on my knees in front of him. And while I was doing my best to suppress every dirty thought that knocked on my head, I knew that it was appearing in the blush of my cheeks.

This was pure torture.

I folded the bottom of the pant so it’s no longer covering his shoe. “How does that look?” I asked.

His eyelids jumped open as if I had shaken him from a nap.

“Perfect,” he commented.

I grabbed more pins, measuring and pinning the bottom the pants.

“How are grad applications going?” he casually asked. Okay, I guess we’re speaking like humans again.

“I had a discussion with my advisor about them today,

actually.”

“How’d that go?”

“Well, they’re all due in a week and a half, but I’m still stuck on one. So, I went to talk to Ethan—”

“Ethan?”

“My advisor,” I explained, “He said that if I included my full name on my app, that I’d have a better chance—"

“What?”

“He thinks I should include my mom’s maiden name on the application and in the essays.” When my parents got married, my mom kept her maiden name because it’s what she was known as in the fashion industry. All of her interviews, the labels on her dresses, and her runway shows included that name.

When I was born, they decided to hyphenate my name, putting my father’s first. Growing up, I just didn’t write my mom’s in at all because it came second. But now, as someone who was trying to get into the same industry as her, I’ve completely avoided the name, wanting my work to lead me to my success and nothing else.

“Dani, that’s horrible advice. You’ve been listening to what he says?”

I pressed my eyes closed. I knew that Levi was studying to be a teacher, but Ethan had experience only few had. “I understand why he says it. He’s been in the industry for a few years—connections are the way to break through.”

“He’s—” he cleared his throat and paused. “Can you stand while we have this conversation?” I looked up at him and realized that I’ve been pretty much talking directly at his…crotch.

Oh mygosh.

I whipped my head away. It wasn’t often that I thought about my minimal sexual experience—actually, I tried to never think about it. But it was almost impossible to avoid it in moments like these.

I stood immediately, holding my skirt to make sure it didn’t rise. I didn’t need another thing to be embarrassed about.

He looked at me without a lick of mortification. “He’s asking you to change your name to get accepted, rather than trusting your work to get you there.” He searched my eyes for a reaction, obviously surprised that I would listen to Ethan’s advice.

But something he didn’t realize was that my workwasn’timpressive. I worked day and night and poured my heart into pieces, but that didn’t make them revolutionary or groundbreaking.

He continued when I didn’t disagree. “I’ll help you with your application, anything you need.”

I bent back down, realizing there was a pin out of place. “We’re done.”

“Excuse me?” he asked as if I had told him I stole his firstborn.

“The suit. It’s all pinned—you can change now.”

“Oh, okay.” I watched as he walks into my bathroom, trying