Sewing buttons onto jackets and pants the next day was a welcome distraction from the pain I felt. James hadn't spoken to me at all that morning, so I'd ran into the closet after he went to makeup, and busied myself with whatever needed doing. For the first time, I didn't ask Maggie what needed to be done; I found things. Fixing up shirts, and mending headbands, hanging clothes up, rearranging them, and so forth.

I didn't pay attention to the models that came in, and I didn't pay attention to the models that left. I used 33% of my mind to work, and blocked out the noise, and people, and Maggie's yelling. I was in the zone. Until a someone stopped next to me and held out a jacket.

"Maggie pointed over here when I told her this ripped. I'm guessing that means you can fix it?" Neil asked in a flat tone.

I took it from him, removing the garment I was mending from the machine. "Uh, yeah. One second." I tried to sound happy. But I couldn't look at him. I didn't want to see the anger he felt for me.

It took some time to locate the tear, my fingers fumbled so much, but I found it under the arm. I wondered why the clothes were so flimsy. Were these the same garments that were sold to people? They weren't very good quality. I must have muttered the fact under my breath, because Neil answered.

"These are first drafts, I guess you could say. The clothes we have to make look good before they go on sale. The final pieces people buy are better made."

"Oh." I didn't dare say anything else as I passed a needle and thread through the fabric with shaky hands.

The needle pricked my finger, and I held in a hiss, continuing as if nothing happened. I became aware of Neil's cologne, something rich and amazing coming off him in waves, and had to focus to keep my mind from wandering. I had to finish so he could leave. He no doubt hated standing next to me. I finished the last stitch, and handed him the jacket without a word.

"You're bleeding."

I looked down. My finger hadn't stopped bleeding like I'd hoped it would. I wiped it on my jeans. "It's fine. I'm fine."

He started to leave, but paused. "Are you?"

I kept my head level. "Yeah."

He waited a few moments, as if giving me a chance to change my mind, before he thanked me, and left. I slumped in the seat, but my relief didn't last long as another shirt came in to be mended.

* * * * *

It was official: James was pissed. So I sat in the closet with Maggie during lunch. She mended clothes while I ate my salad.

Three days had passed since I'd started dieting, and I was hating every minute. I'd never had to worry about calories or portions before. I had to add up the amount of calories I was eating every single time I ate. It was torture. But it was the only way I could change. The doughnut table beckoned to me every time I entered the break room, and this morning I'd almost gotten one.

I was upset about James being mad, and upset about accusing Neil of something he didn't do. They left me alone during the morning meeting, talking to each other instead, and I'd stood in the corner like the freak I was, waiting to escape to the closet. Now I just wanted to go home. Not back to the apartment. Home. With my parents, and siblings. I wanted to crawl back and beg for their forgiveness.

Maggie sniffed as she worked, and glanced up at me. I smiled, and she looked right back down at her needle and thread, frown still plastered on her face. She never spoke to me, unless she had something she needed me to do. I don't think she even knew my name.

She sniffed again, and I ignored it. But she spoke after a minute, as loud and sharp as if she were giving me an order. "I figure I should start payin' you, girl. You do some good work- you know what you're doin'. I'll give you ten an hour, and that's all."

I grinned. Ten an hour? That was far more than I'd been prepared for. "Thank you very much, Maggie. I'm glad I can help you out."

She sniffed again, and that was the end of it. Ten minutes later I was back to stitching up clothes, and that was my job for the rest of the day. I wondered if the photographer was having the models play football, with the amount of torn clothing that flooded the large room.

* * * * *

I sat in the lobby while I waited for James to finish up a last-minute shoot, sketching another dress. This one was shorter, baggier, and something I could have worn. But I didn't like it. I wanted to be able to wear something fitted. If only I didn't look like a swollen pile of jello. I needed to find a gym.

The elevator dinged and I looked up as two female models exited, followed by a laughing James and Neil. One of the girls stopped to speak to James, and the other left. Neil spotted me and slowed, but kept coming. I tried to keep myself loose, and natural.

"How's your finger?"

"Fine, thank you." I didn't trust myself to say anything else, and glanced up at him through my lashes. What was it with him and staring? Didn't anyone teach him it was rude?

"Why won't you look at me, Christelle? Do you even know what I look like?"

"Of course I do."

He squatted down and tried to look at my face, but I turned my head. I heard him sigh. "Am I that unappealing to you?"

"No!" I winced at my loud tone, and closed my eyes. I sounded like an idiot. "No... but I am."

"You're what? Unappealing?"

I wished James would hurry. When I shook my head, Neil pushed for the answer. "Do you think you're unappealing?"

"Everyone does. It's just a fact..."

Neil stood, and sat in the chair next to me. He put a hand up beside my face, but didn't touch me. He was blocking me from turning away. I still kept my eyes down.

"Look at me," he urged. I wouldn't. "Please, Christelle?"

I gnawed at my bottom lip, and shook my head. I was close to panicking and I knew it. I was going to make a fool out of myself.

"Alright, don't. But I want you to know that's you're dead wrong. You're the exact opposite of unappealing. Or you would be, if..."

I looked up when he trailed off, and he grinned. "If you'd only look at me. Got you."

My lips pressed together as I realized I'd been tricked, to suppress my smile. But my eyes didn't drop again. He moved his hand and tapped my nose. "You have no idea the things people say about you when you're not around."

I could only guess. "Nothing good. I prefer not to know-"

Neil shook his head. "You're really clueless, you know that? Totally clueless. I want to fix that."

"About what I said last night-"

"I understand why you thought that. NOW, anyway. And like I said, I'm going to fix it." His smirk turned smug, and I frowned.

"I'm leaving, Chris," James said over his shoulder in passing, and I jumped up.

"Wait."

He turned, face blank. Still angry. I wrung my hands and opened my mouth, but Neil beat me to speaking. "Cut her a break. She apologized, and I get why she said what she did now. I have a plan."

"A plan?" James raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Do you guys have a gym yet?"

Oh god. I felt the blood drain from my face, and my eyes widened. James shook his head, oblivious, and Neil looked at me. "You guys are joining my gym. We'll all get a discount, since I'm a gold member and I referred you. In fact, you can start tomorrow. I usually don't go until Sunday, but this is important."

"No!" I blurted without thinking. I couldn't join his gym. There was no freaking way in the world I would do any type of physical activity around him. No way. "I'm not going. James will go."

"Chris-"

"I'm. Not. Going. If I'm going to humiliate myself, I want to do it alone. Not in front of a man that's never been laughed at in his entire life."

Neil frowns. "Hey, it's okay... you don't need to be nervous-"

I hold up a hand. I wasn't joking, and he knew it. "You want us to join the gym? That's fine. But I'm not working out in front of you, ever. I've been embarrassed enough in the past few days. That would just top everything off."

I marched past them and outside to the parking lot, standing by the pickup. They followed together, conversing in hushed tones, but I blocked them out. My mind was made up. James was grinning when he reached me, but Neil looked serious. He came straight up to me and lowered his head to my ear.

"Anger isn't a good look for you. You end up looking more adorable than frightening. And when I have a plan, I make it happen. You will be at the gym tomorrow, if I have to drag you there myself. Wear something you don't mind sweating in."

He walked as if he owned the parking lot, all the way to his car, a sleek, silver sports car of some sort, hands in his pockets, and turned back when he opened the door. I could see his stupid grin from where I stood, and glared at him.

"Chris?"

I turned to James, glancing back at Neil, but he got in his car and drove off. James crossed his arms. "Are you okay?"

"I am now. About last night-"

"I'm sorry too. Forget about it, okay? Things seem to be straightening out."

"But I'm not going to the gym. And I can't seem to come up with a dress..."

He shook his head and hooked an arm around my shoulders. "You'll come up with something, and yes, you are going to the gym."