Design for love

I stared at the mountain of clothes on my living room floor, feeling equal parts of regret and confusion. What on earth had possessed me to hand over my credit card to Julia this morning? I don't know. But I blamed myself.

Julia was quite the shopping enthusiast. Giving her free rein with my card was like throwing a match into gasoline.

"In my defense, you didn't exactly give me a limit." she said smugly as she sipped on the matcha latte that I was pretty sure she also charged to my card. I shot her a glare.

She wasn't wrong about that though. But I hadn't given her a limit because I thought she'd show some restraint, maybe pick out two or three office outfits and call it a day. Instead, I now had enough clothes to last me three or four weeks straight, with no trips to the laundromat.

I picked up a flimsy black-and-white striped skirt from the pile and held it up accusingly. "You know I plan on keeping this job for as long as possible, right? This skirt is going to get me fired the moment I bend over!"

"See, I knew you'd complain about that." she hopped off the sofa and rummaged through the mess, tossing stockings at my face with a triumphant grin. "That's why I got you these!"

I scowled at her. "Remind me to never let you shop for me again."

The truth was, I hated shopping. Always had. My dislike dates back to childhood, when my mom would drag me through London's endless boutiques for hours, hunting for clothes that she'd ultimately decide were "not quite her taste", which was code for "too expensive." Those outings always ended with leg cramps and a stale bagel as my reward for keeping her company.

Julia was meant to spare me that trauma. I trusted her to get the memo: simple skirts, blouses, maybe a bold pantsuit for special occasions. Instead, her haul included an offensively orange scarf that seemed to mock me from the top of the pile.

"Oh, and now that I think about it, I should've gotten you shoes," Julia mused. "There were these cute ankle boots on sale, but the saleslady gave me a nasty look, so I ditched them and got a latte instead. Also, I used your card for the latte." She flashed me a sheepish grin.

I shook my head and went back to sorting through the chaos on the floor. As for the saleslady's reaction, I couldn't say I was surprised. Julia had a strikingly unconventional look. For starters she was bald (thanks to a recent drunken night), she had tattoo sleeves on both arms, she had dyed her eyebrows a striking blonde and let's not forget the generous assortment of piercings decorating her ears and nose. Add in her unapologetic attitude, and Julia was the kind of person who turned heads wherever she went.

"I think I could work with this." I muttered, picking up a decent-looking pencil skirt that actually met my expectations; knee-length, classic, and perfect for pairing with a simple cute blouse.

Julia wandered into my kitchen, no doubt heading for my fridge. "By the way, guess who called me today?"

"Who?" I yelled back, still focused on salvaging usable pieces from the pile.

Julia reappeared holding a box of leftover pizza from two nights ago. "Seriously, why don't you have snacks? Crackers don't count; you know I hate crackers." She wrinkled her nose. "Anyway, Rowan called. He said it was a mistake, but I knew darn well it wasn't. And then he kept reminding me about my dentist appointment on the 26th. Like, who does that? Who remembers their ex's dentist appointments?"

I grinned. Julia's tumultuous relationship with Rowan was... unique. They fought constantly about the littlest things-who left the sink faucets on, who ate the last froot loops, whose turn was it to go grocery shopping (which Rowan always handled anyway). Arguments were their love language. But every so often, a fight would escalate into a "break," only for Rowan to start calling Julia incessantly until she took him back. Then the cycle would start all over again.

Their latest split had led to Julia's drunken decision to shave her head, a look she claimed to love despite my doubts. That's why I'd tasked her with shopping for me, a distraction from her usual post-breakup spiral. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

"I give you guys one more week," I teased, ignoring the scowl she threw my way. "Then you'll be back to arguing over who gets to pick dinner."

Julia rolled her eyes and headed back to the kitchen. "Speaking of dinner, can you order some pizza? Lots of pepperoni and cheese please and make sure it's hot. Last time you ordered us pizza it was cold and tasted gross." She grimaced and I let out a little laugh, my mind drifting again when she walked back to the kitchen to no doubt raid my fridge again.

Tomorrow, I'd be starting my dream job at Prescott & Co. Everything was happening perfectly, except for the chaotic pile of clothes Julia had left me with. I stared at the orange scarf again and sighed. I was so close to actually living out my dream job. Now, if only I could survive Julia's taste in fashion.