Pencil on paper

"Finally!"

Excitement flowed through my veins. Emir and Clementine had agreed for a virtual show before the actual fashion show for the fall-winter collection. It had been the hardest thing to get them to say yes. While I wanted the entire show to be a part of the Metaverse, they had their suspicions about it and wanted to give it a trial run before implementing it fully.

For the past month, we had been working together with a Metaverse expert and programmer to build a virtual runway show. It was intense and exciting. After the designs had been finalizes, sadly with no output from Emir, we had converted them into a wearable fantasy. It had been a tedious process starting from a wild idea of futuristic fashion, to building virtual textures in the form of real clothing, to making VR mannequins to mirror to putting the show together along with music selection and backgrounds.

Our team was finally ready to produce it's first virtual fashion show to be live-streamed on its website. Anyone in the world could watch. It was a historic moment for the brand which for the first time made it's haute cotoure collections available to the world.

Our eyes we're glued on the huge screen at the office.

"In 1,2,3 and go....."

Jonas, our technician gave the thumbs up.

The background on the screen darkened as heavy bass music created an eerie atmosphere.

One single spot-light shone on the screen.

We held our breaths. The scene changed to the middle of the desert.

Arabian music rose out of the depths of a sandstorm, as sinuous as a serpent.

A hooded black model raised her eyes. Her face was covered with a red cloth. She wore a violent red gown, shimmering with crystals, torn if in strategic places to reveal a hint of thigh.

The next model appeared just after, an olive-skinned bedouin with a loose kaftan, wide-pants, long hair waving wildly in the storm.

Flinty assassins, seductresses, queens and women in formal wear walked through the sand storm on the screen.

The music rose to a crescendo, coiling around us like a snake, hypnotizing us, lulling our senses.

It was magical.

Thirty models walked in various shades of history, colonialism and of days long gone. I could smell the sands, I swear. It was so realistic.

When the last girl had walked and the credits rolled, detailing each outfit, there was a strange ache in my heart. What were the possibilities of such a world and how tremendously could it change fashion?

We could be anywhere we could create anything.

"2 million views in an hour. Jesus! ", Jonas exclaimed. " You guys are famous."

I couldn't get over the slight smile playing on Emir's lips.

___________

"Well done, Ms. Bianchi. It seems we have a substantial increase in orders this year from our commercial collections.", Emir said dryly as the day came to a close at the office.

I was still riding the wave of the high of our massive success.

"It seems we are back in vogue and every major magazines issue wants to cover you as their Le Dame Grande.", he informed me while checking emails on his IPAD.

I just smiled. I had missed this. Having something to call mine. I had missed brainstorming, missed rebellion, missed the smell of creation.

"Congratulations, Sana! You are back in business.", he said softly leaning forward.

" Back with a bang, it seems.", I said wryly.

"Boss Lady's share prices plummets further this week.", he read the article on Wall Street Journal. "Financial growth remains stunted in the latest financial quarter. Jules Bianchi accuses ex-CEO Sana Bianchi of making wrong decisions."

I looked at the LA skyline. Victory saturated the air. A sense of peace had settled.

"Everything you were waiting for, is finally coming full circle. Jules is upto no good and soon the board will have to make her step down."

I savored the moment. The twinkling night lights had lulled me into a strange quiet.

"I give it a month.", Emir said running his hand through his hair. He messed it all over. My favourite disheveled look, if I was willing to admit it.

" One month.", I mused."and I will back on my throne. It's certainly a lot to look forward to. It's about time, the tide turned in my favour. Plus, I will be out of your hair and your devil's lair. "

But, I had said it carelessly. This place, this office- it had grown on me. This place had changed me. I would do my best to change it before I went. I would try to repay it.

"Hey!", Emir said holding my hand from his recliner.

"I like sharing my lair with you.", he said earnestly.

" But, it will be easier to rule when a stubborn, ex-CEO isn't hounding you and questioning every decision. You don't have to pretend that it has been easy for you to share your power."

I liked the truth as cold and hard as it was. Lies made me uncomfortable. I had heard too many of those.

"Anything that comes easy is not worth having.", he whispered, making my heart skip a beat. "You healed me as much as I healed you."

I took his hand in mine.

"Then create for me. Design your collection before I go."

He stepped back from me. Don't turn away, I wished silently.

"I cannot.", he said. "Believe me I have tried. Nothing comes to my mind. I keep staring at the blank canvas."

"Just start. Sketch something. Sketch what I'm wearing now. Change something you want in my dress. The hardest thing is to start."

"I....", he broke off. Words were not coming to him. It broke my heart to see him struggle like this. It broke my heart to see him lose his gift.

But, I wasn't going to give up.

I snatched up a writing pad from his desk and a pencil from the stand.

" Draw.", I ordered. "Draw me like one of your French girls,Jack."

He raised a half- amused and half-curious eyebrow.

"I am not Jack Dawson and you're not Rose. This is not Titanic and you're not naked. No. Definitely not naked.", he asserted.

I laughed out loud.

"Let's make a deal. If you design your collection, I'll pose for you without a single piece of clothing on.", I challenged.

"Now we're getting somewhere.", he said. His eyes gleamed with mischief.

"Feeling inspired yet?", I teased reclining on the couch in his office.

" Your boyfriend wouldn't mind?", he asked tentatively. I could detect a faint blush on the slope of his cheeks.

Good. This was what I wanted. This fun and teasing. I didn't want him empty and void. He would draw again. I would make sure of it.

"It's for the sake of art. Ethan would understand. He knows that I have unusual ways to get to my goal.", I said simply.

Ethan would probably want the picture after he had finished drawing me. I rolled my eyes at the thought.

" It's an intriguing proposition but I need to think on it.", he teased back.

"Oh! Come on! Don't act like you aren't dying to paint me.", I scoffed.

" I am. I am. But, I am enjoying making you wait.", he said. A tiny smile played on the corner of his lips. Damn.

He picked his pencil and slid it against the notepad, the lead left scars on the paper destroying the pristine white.

In many ways, Emir Aslan was leaving those scars on my soul.

I refused to think what we were, what we could be.

I loved two different men across two different worlds with one heart.

Ethan was my rock, my steady home connecting me to the shore, the safe place of my heart.

Emir was my sea, turbulent and Rocky and exhilarating. He pushed me and I pushed him to be better.

Two different loves fulfilling two different sides of me.

I stood on the shore, unable to leave home and unable to deny the call of the sea.

My heart was torn.

Every moment, it became more and more impossible to drown the truth in the noise of my life.

He drew furiously on the paper, expelling all anger and frustration on the curves of my body. He smudged the rough edges with deft motions of his fingers. He drew again, he erased, he created me over and over with the strokes of his pencil. He created me better, stronger and more beautiful.

But, he didn't look at me. He looked through me with a breathless intensity as if trying to unravel my secrets with the quickness of an engineer. He looked at the bigger picture, beyond the messy cubist perspective of colours to seeing something worth putting on paper.

He saw me and he found his muse.

When he finished he was breathing out heavily, exhausted from the emotional turmoil. It was the exhaustion after a good therapy, of being drained after facing your problems. It was worth every second.

"I did it.", he said, his eyes shining. His voice was heavy.

" You did.", I whispered.

With a surprising whoop of laughter he scooped me up in his arms and rotated two spectacular turns and dipped me in a Hollywood style.

I was laughing so hard, it hurt my cheeks.

Then he pressed a kiss on my forehead.

"Es spectacular.", I said. " Me encanta. Gracias, Emir. "

"I don't know Spanish.", he whispered.

"No sé tú, pero yo me estoy enamorando de ti.", I whispered back.

"What does that mean?", he asked.

" It means the picture is beautiful.", I whispered. "It's time for me to go."

I took the drawing and put it in my handbag.

"Goodnight, Emir."

"Night, Sana."

I left with a smile on my face.

I had lied. But some lies saved us from pain.

No sé tú, pero yo me estoy enamorando de ti- I don't know about you but I am falling for you.