BCBG

On Thursday Morning, I surveyed my outfit in front of the mirror before the BCBG show. I was sporting silk high-waisted black shorts, a BCBG black fitted crop top and a long open tan cardigan with tie up sandals. My long wavy hair was pulled into a side fishtail and by some act of god I had mastered the cat eye. I thought the finished product was pretty good, considering.  

I grabbed Ashley's BCBG envelope clutch that she graciously let me borrow and headed out the door. The show was at 10 o'clock up by the office at Lincoln Center, and I wanted to get there early to scope it out and take some notes for the blog post.

As I walked towards the subway I pulled out my phone, unsurpised to find a text from Dylan. Ever since our conversation Tuesday night he had sent me roughly one text per waking hour. After his message that we "needed to talk" I had set my phone down and agonizingly waited until after work to call him. 

"Hey," I'd said once he answered as I walked my way downtown.

"Hi babe," he had replied, and my heart had skipped a few beats at the pet name. Surely he wouldn't preface the conversation with that if he intended on dumping me.

"So what did you need to talk about?" I had asked, cutting right to the chase.

I heard him sigh before answering, and I pictured him running his hand through his hair the way he did when he was stressed.

"Look, Kara was down the shore this weekend," he had started, and my stomach dropped to my feet. 

"Nothing happened, trust me, nothing. But she still tries pretty hard and we did pass out in the upstairs bedroom on Saturday night. Believe me that nothing happened, we were just talking but Laura walked in on us the next morning sleeping and I guess she kind of assumed.." 

"Assumed what..?" I had asked skeptically.

"I mean we'd all been in the hot tub earlier, so Kara and I were both in our suits and in bed together. I don't know, Laura just gave me shit about hurting you so I think she assumed more happened than really did." 

I had no idea what to say. Laura hadn't mentioned a word to me and even so, he was being way more defensive than normal. So he passed out in bed with someone? That seemed to be pretty much protocol in the shore house where mattress real estate was hard to come by. 

"Okay," I had said, shaking it off (#taytay). I didn't want to start an argument over the phone. "So that's all?" I asked.

"Yes, babe. I just didn't want you to hear anything from Laura and get upset."

I had nodded, even though he couldn't see me.

"Okay, well I'm about to get on the subway so I'll talk to you later," I had said sharply. 

"Wait, how was your day? Are you excited for the fashion show?"

I bit my lip. I wanted to fill him in on my day and act normal, but a bigger part of me was telling me that something was up.

"Yeah. But the next train is in like two minutes so I've got to go," I had said before hanging up.

That was two days ago and I'd ignored his calls ever since, always making excuses about why I couldn't answer. I'd replied to texts but kept the responses to a three to four word maximum. This wasn't even the second or third time that Dylan had made me doubt him and I was starting to get really scared that my heart would be shredded into ten thousand pieces. I had to decide if I was willing to take that risk. 

I hailed a cab on 10th and settled in, trying to calm my nerves for the show. I was equal parts excited and terrified that I would embarrass myself. 

Outside of Lincoln Center, I found Elena looking stunning in a black romper and killer blue heels.

"Hey!" I greeted her with a huge hug. 

"Hi!" she replied. "I think I just saw Shay Mitchell" 

I frantically scanned around, but didn't spot the Pretty Little Liars star. "Let's go inside," I squealed, linking my arm through hers. "I want to get seated so we can scope out the other celebrities!" 

Once we had made it through the throngs of people, paparazzi and security we settled in to our third row seats. I surveyed the crowd, catching sight of a few B-list celebs. The energy in the room was electric, everyone murmuring and looking around anxious for the show to begin. By the time the lights dimmed, I had already filled out an entire screens worth of notes in my phone.

The show began with upbeat music and it was clear from the start that the theme was long, flowing, bohemian pieces. I kept refreshing my Instagram feed to check for the items I could "purchase". Colleen told me not to actually buy anything, but I was supposed to "like" a few of the items and then check to see how the email system worked. 

Elena and I were awestruck by some of the gorgeous filmy garments, all presented in subtle prints and pastel colors. Nearly everything looked like something I would wear, if I had about six more inches on my frame. I tested out the shoppable feature on two of the dresses that I adored, and was almost instantly greeted with an email on how to buy the item. If I was a rich celeb, this would basically be the dream.

By the time the show ended and everyone had applauded, we filtered out with the rest of the crowd and started the slow walk back to the office. I was busy typing notes into my phone as Elena navigated the sidewalk for me, yelling out things like "biker" or "small child" every twenty feet. 

It was nearly noon by the time I sat down at my desk and I was chomping at the bit to write the post and get it up quickly. I uploaded a few of the photos of Elena and I at the show, along with some lower quality ones of the models on the runway. Hopefully if I made this piece good, I could get assigned better topics to cover for the blog. It was getting pretty hard to write about sex and beauty hacks every single day. While furiously typing away, I saw an email notification pop up in the lower right hand corner of my screen from Dylan. Opening it, I saw an Amtrak confirmation for the next day with a small note from Dylan up top.

Come see me this weekend, please?