Young Writers Society

“John, I know what I’m doing,” I assured my manager. “Ana’s clothes are top-notch. No designer in the world can do what she does.”

“She’s amateur and unknown, and you’re one of the biggest stars in the world. You should be dressed by one of the biggest names in fashion, and we have multiple offers to dress you for free from some very big fashion houses,” he pressed.

“I’ve already told you no. The Grammys are in a week and my dress is already done, the hair and makeup artists are already booked, everything is taken care of,” I stood my ground. “You’re not changing my mind on this.”

“If this is a mistake, it’s coming out of your paycheck,” he warned.

“I’m aware. Now, I’m kind of trying to do something, so I’m hanging up. Goodbye.” With that, I ended the call and turned my workout music back on, the drums and upbeat melodies making my heart pound as I ran.

I looked down at the treadmill’s display, and it showed five miles covered. That meant five more to go. Shouldn’t take more than half an hour.

Sweat ran down my body as I pumped my arms back and forth. Muscles across my body ached with use, not yet pushing overuse, but soon they would be. My breath was slightly heavy as I pushed my body harder and worked it more and more.

Ana: lunch is ready 

Lauren: i’m not 

Ana: i know, you’re awol 

Lauren: i’m in the gym running 

Ana: oh. come down when you’re done. 

Lauren: can do

I looked over at the treadmill next to me, where Asher was also running. He saw me looking and smiled, causing me to look down at my feet and blush.

“You good?” he asked, slightly breathless from the running.

“Better than ever.”

“You do this every day?”

“Every other.”

“Damn.”

I laughed shortly, taking our short conversation to mean that he didn’t work out like he had used to. He probably ran a few miles here and there, but he had obviously pushed himself to run with me.

Our banter continued back and forth as we ran, with much the same dialogue each time. As soon as we were done, he stepped off the treadmill and laid down on the floor, exhausted.

“I never want to do something that hellish again,” he panted, soaked in sweat.

“Hey, I enjoy that “hellish” something,” I laughed, throwing a towel at him before wrapping one around my neck. “Now I’m gonna go shower and get some lunch. Join me when you feel like it.”

“Have some mercy! I just ran ten miles!” he whined, covering his face with the towel.

“I also just ran ten miles, and you don’t see me making a scene!” I joked, walking to the door. “But seriously, I’m gonna go shower and then go eat. Ana said lunch was ready like half an hour ago.”

“What’d she make?”

“You’ll have to move to find out.” With that, I left, going to my room and stripping quickly before showering and dressing again.

I headed down to the kitchen, where Ana was cleaning up from her meal. “Smells good in here,” I commented, making myself a plate.

“Thanks,” she replied.

I was shocked - she hadn’t spoken to me in a week. Not wanting to push her any, I sat quietly at the stone island and ate my lunch, and didn’t really react when she came and sat by me.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was a lilted whisper, beautiful in sorrow. “I shouldn’t have blown up like that, and I shouldn’t have iced you out.”

“It’s okay. There’s a lot nobody told you,” I assured her, reaching over and taking her hand.

“I just hate feeling like I’m missing something huge.” Her chocolate brown eyes were glistening, and I sighed.

“Everything’ll explain itself eventually, I promise. I just...it’s hard for all of us to talk about. It was really hard for all of us to go through, and so we like to think it didn’t happen.”

“Well I won’t press,” she promised. “But are you and Asher good?”

I blushed, ducking my head in a bashful way. “We’re better than ever, I hope.”

She smiled and gave me a knowing look. “Gotcha. Now, you need to try on your dress, missy!”

Laughter echoed around the room as she attempted to drag me upstairs to her workroom. “Look, I love you, but you have no muscle, babe,” I managed to stammer out.

She shot me a glare, and through more laughter we made our ways to the practically glass room that housed her work. I slipped into the makeshift dressing room that she had made with fabric samples and mannequins, being careful not to knock any of the precariously perched odds and ends. Stripping quickly, I slid into the sheer dress as easily as I could, which was, in reality, not very.

“Are you in it yet?” she asked, poking her head in with her fingers over her eyes.

“Uhh…”I looked down at the dress, which was halfway on and halfway off. “I’m as in it as I’m going to be by myself?”

She sighed and moved her hands and helped me into the dress. “So for the Grammys, you’ll be sewn in, but for right now, I’m just going to pin it in the back.”

“Whatever works best for you,” I shrugged. “I’ve just gotta be able to move.”

“Good luck with that. You move and one of the pieces of lace is likely to slip.” She was sliding pins into the sides of the dress, making it even tighter to my body than it already was.

“And you’re sure you can’t line this thing?”

“Very,” she replied. “What’s the American saying? Suck it up, buttercup?”

I groaned, and her laugh echoed off the glass walls, the happy sound a stark contrast to the barren, snow-covered mountain that was our view.

She finished pinning the lace, then helped me out of the dress carefully so that I wouldn’t tear something. “Thanks for being my mannequin,” she said, taking the dress back to her table as I pulled my regular clothes back on.

“No problem, thanks for letting me,” I returned.

She smiled, flipping on another space heater and pulling on a fleece. “Shoo. I have work to do.”

I slipped out of the workroom with a small wave and smile to my friend before heading to the living room, where Cullen was stretched out talking to Tristan on the phone.

“Dude, I’m just saying. She’s happy how she is, I don’t think you have a chance with her,” Cullen pressed, not noticing my presence.

“We’ll see. She’s going to the Grammys, right?” Tristan’s voice came back, and I bit my lip. Were they talking about me, or some other girl?

“Yeah, and she’s excited about it. Don’t ruin that for her by bugging her about them. Bray’ll kill you if you do.”

“She and Bray haven’t talked in forever-”

“-but he’s still protective of her,” Cullen cut him off. “Don’t think he won’t get you off her back in a second if you upset her.”

Tris sighed, not happily or unhappily, but more of a frustrated indifference. “You were helpful. See you soon.”

“Bye Tr- he hung up,” he muttered, looking at his phone screen and rolling his eyes. As they traveled across the room, he noticed me and seemed to jump. “How much of that did you hear?”

I shrugged. “Maybe five seconds or so?”

He sighed, relieved. “Good.”

My brow knitted together in confusion. Just what had I missed?