Page 56 of Picking Daisies on Sundays

I didn’t email it to Ethan for approval or consideration. I pressed submit, attempting to have a little faith in myself.

26

I tried to stop loving you, but along the way, you found your way into

the sound of my laugh, the style of my writing, and the threads

of my clothes

My body was riding on this high since submitting my last application last night. It was finallydone. I wasn’t even phased by the horrifying ladybug that flew into my window when I was getting ready this morning.

Well, I was partially phased. Meaning I didn’t scream. Hopefully it’ll be gone by the time I get home tonight.

Wanting to take advantage of this energy, I got ready for the day: showering, sweeping my hair back with a silk scarf (one with blueberries that matched my earrings), and throwing on linen pants and a tee.

Pulling my things together, I ran out the door into the warm air where trees brushed brownstones and mothered daffodils.

The wedding was two weekends away and my capstone was due in one, along with the end-of-the-year runway show where they would be presented, which was days after the wedding. I didn’t have a dress for either, but hopefully I’d solve half of that problem today.

There was a small fabric store not too far down the street from

where I bought my bagels from Marty. It differed from the larger stores in the city because it only sold thrifted fabric; no two fabrics would be the same. It often wasn’t my first choice since I required enough material to fix my mistakes, and there almost was never full rolls of fabric available. But I hadn’t found what I needed in the city.

Walking into the store, the small space was suffocated by fabric. Every surface on the walls was covered in scrap pieces that had no home because they weren’t enough to make a dress or maybe even a hair bow.

I headed to the back of the store where they kept their larger rolls, hoping to find what I had carefully created in my mind. It was so specifically imagined that I avoided asking anyone for help because it’d require a ridiculously long, complex answer, along with a look at my Pinterest board.

A fabric that resembled sunlight and ruffled like sand dunes when draped. The painting Levi had shown me the day at The MET, “Love Letters” by Jean Honoré Fragonard, had this warmth to it that I hadn’t stopped thinking about since I saw it. I already had the silhouette in mind; something I had sketched the day we were there together. It would be perfect to tie together the last of my pieces for class.

Running my hands over the rolls of fabric, differing textures and patterns that could’ve been from curtains or couches, were all too dark. Floral patterns that were too similar to my first dress, and colors that were too neon to blend in, were all I found.

“Ugh,” I sighed. I dropped my bag on the ground to free my hands and began tugging the rolls away from the wall. There had to besomethinghere. I piled them all into my hands: forest green, crimson red, black and white chevron, grey swallows—orange. I jerked the roll out in excitement. It was a crinkle fabric; light and soft, making it perfect to blend in with the other soft patterns and draping techniques I was using. The color wasn’t an orange you’d imagine on a rainbow, but rather a shade deeper that would appear in the curvatures of the sun. It would complement my first gown, which was made of a watercolor fabric that I had custom made, with whites, yellows, and oranges, inspired by lantana flowers.

This last dress though would be simple. Nothing as complex or time consuming. But its simplicity would be its beauty—hopefully.

There wasn’t much fabric left on the roll, so I hauled my bag over my shoulder and carried the roll to the register. Placing it carefully on the counter, I felt more excited and confident about a design than I had in months.

“I’ll take all of it,” I said with a smile.

I don’t know what had gotten into me—the new fabric shoved in my bag probably—but I texted Levi while pulling together a flower arrangement for a birthday bouquet in Daisy’s. Blue and purple hydrangeas (a favorite) with white baby’s-breath.

And he just texted me back.

Dani: Dinner tonight?

Levi: Always—am I picking you up at Daisy’s?

He had responded within seconds, not keeping me waiting. I felt relieved at his casual response.Phew.Maybe I was right, maybe we could just pretend like nothing happened. It was an act anyways, of course it wouldn’t be worth mentioning. However, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I wanted him to be acting a little weird as proof that last night had an effect on him too.

Dani: I’ll take a cab, don’t worry :)

The last thing I needed was to be alone in a car with him when last night was all I could think about.

My phone buzzed again. I finished tying twine around the flowers and placed them in a ceramic vase.

Levi: I’m not letting you pay for a cab, that’s ridiculous.

Dammit, Levi.