They must have heard the sincerity in her voice. Bomber Jacket inclined her head with a smile. “Well, thanks.”

“So are we gonna get hired for the runway?” Pink Lipstick asked dryly, snuggling closer to her partner.

“I wish. That’s…what I want to write about.”

“It is?”

“Yeah.” Jules pressed her lips together and took a risk: “I don’t want to sound weird, but can I take your picture?”

A few minutes later, after showing them her business card and promising she wasn’t a conservative in deep cover, Jules was walking away with a spring in her step and a new photo on her phone. For inspiration. For her work.

The thought wasn’t fully formed. She didn’t know where it would take her. But that was her topic: queer representation in fashion. Specifically, the lack of it.

The fashion industry was full of gay designers, but you could look through mainstream magazines and blogs for days and not find anything that looked like those two women and their lived experiences.

In spite of the cold, she looked at the photo as she walked back to the nearest subway station. Once they’d realized her intentions, the women had given her sunny smiles as they held hands and leaned into one another. She didn’t know their names, probably never would, but the image of them would stay with her for a long time.

They just looked so…happy together.

I wish I had someone to show this to.

The thought was absurd—Jules had plenty of people she could show this to—but she was only thinking about the one person to whom she couldn’t.

What are you going to do? Show Vivian this photo, melt her icy heart, and sweep her into your arms? Time to stop dreaming and start doing.

Jules could do that. She would do that.

Now she just needed to start writing.

Chapter 27

Chapter 27

By the next morning, she still hadn’t settled on a catchy opening line, but she’d made an outline. It would do for a start. This was the best opportunity Jules had had in a long time to do something beyond her job. Something she could carve out for herself.

With Simon’s help, yes, but still. It was a thrill and a half.

She’d gotten about three hours of sleep, and she looked tired—so tired that Ben asked her if she was okay when he picked her up. It didn’t matter, though. She’d pulled more than a few all-nighters in college. She could power through this, and right now she was running on sheer adrenaline.