Learn From Cigarette Burns

Somewhere nearby a song was playing; whether it was via a laptop, iPhone, or television set, I wasn't sure. I rolled over, keeping my eyes closed tight, and attempted to sink further down into the mattress. After adjusting myself slightly every once in a while, I finally found a comfortable position and settled in for a small nap before I'd have to commit to getting ready for the day.

However, shortly afterward, the bed shifted beside me which was followed by the sound of soft, steady breathing in my ear.

"Babe," John whispered. "Sweetheart, wake up."

"Johno, one more hour of sleep." I muttered into the sheets.

"Sweetheart." He repeated.

When I didn't emit a response, he began placing soft, gentle kisses along the exposed portion on my face and neck.

"Johno," I growled, "get away from me."

The kisses disappeared just as some loud, amused "oooo's" sounded in the distance. The bed shifted once again as my fiancé exchanged a few indistinguishable words with our friends, before I felt a hand upon my knee. John's hand remained there long enough for his warmth to seep through the thing sheets before he sighed softly and removed it.

"Sweetheart," he stated a third time, "I made an appointment for you today for your wedding dress. It's at one o'clock. I'm giving you my credit card and sending Kennedy with you."

"Appointment? Credit card? Kennedy?" I muttered. "What's going on?"

John sighed heavily and then gently picked me up from the bed. Startled, I opened my eyes and then clung to him as he packed me across the hotel room to the table where his laptop was set up. Readjusting me slightly in his arms, he took a seat and then held me close to him as if I were a little kid he was caring for.

"I made you an appointment for a consult." He informed me. "But, I want you to go around and look at other dresses before you meet with him so that you can get ideas for what you want."

"Him?" I questioned. "Who is it?"

"Shh," he mumbled, fiddling around with something on his computer.

"Babe, I already said that I don’t want a big, fancy wedding gown." I sighed, leaning into him for body warmth. "Just something simple."

"I know," he whispered before kissing the top of my head. "Tell him what you want and he'll make you the perfect dress."

"How come you have so much faith in him?" I mumbled.

"You'll see when you figure out who it is." John insisted.

"But - "

"Dee," my fiancé laughed softly, "just trust me on this, okay?"

I let out a low growl before sighing heavily in defeat. "Fine." I grumbled. "I'll go and meet with this mystery guy."

Watching John's reflection, I saw him smile happily before he turned his gaze to the window. Even with his attention diverted elsewhere, the smile still clung to his lips, making me wonder what else was going through his mind just then. I knew better than to ask, however, because I would only get a response that would be merely .05% to the answer I had asked for.

Not that I'm complaining though; I know that he would say the same about me.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Still in a slight disbelief as to the young man standing in front of me, I was barely able to keep myself from stumbling over my words as I told him what I wanted my wedding dress to look like. Although his gaze was focused on the sketch book he held in front of him, he nodded every so often to show that he understood what I was trying to describe to him.

When I finished my description, I stood there, not quite sure what to do next. Nervously, I glanced across the way to Kennedy only to find that he was texting a mile a minute on his cell phone, not paying a single attention to what was going on around him.

"Alright," he young designer said, gaining my attention once again.

I watched as he quickly made his way toward me and then came around to my side to show me what he had envisioned. I gasped softly as I looked at the two very different yet gorgeous designs that he had sketched just within that short amount of time.

"Do you like them?" He asked, a tiny hint of nerves embroidered in his question.

"I love them," I gushed, "both of them. They're beautiful. They're so different, yet they're both exactly what I want. I don't know how that's possible but ... " I trailed off, blushing slightly as Christian Siriano smiled warmly at me.

"Which one do you like better?" He asked.

"Well," I paused to examine both sketches closer. Looking over the pretty halter top dress he had sketched, I moved on to the strapless dress he had sketched out. "I think I like this one better." I said, pointing to the strapless one.

"Yeah?" He asked, looking over the sketch as well before nodding his head. "I think I like it better too." He agreed. "Okay," he said, scribbling some more things down on his sketch book, "let's get your measurements."

Before I had a chance to reply, Christian had his measuring tape in hand and was instructing me to stand in certain positions while he took my measurements. As he measured my bust, I looked up and saw that Kennedy was watching us in amusement. I stuck my tongue out at him and then turned my attention back to the task at hand.

Soon enough, Christian had all my measurements written down in his sketch book and a smile on his face. "Shall we go pick out the fabric?" He asked me.

I gave him a slightly quizzical and confused look. "You have a selection of fabric here?" I asked.

"No," he laughed, shaking his head, "we'll take a trip to the fabric stores."

"Oh," I blushed, "but ... don't you have some other things you have to take care of? I mean," I paused slightly, trying to keep myself from blushing any more, "I know that you're probably busy creating your first line since, you know ... winning Project Runway and all."

"Oh, that," he said, waving his hand as if my remark was somewhat silly, "I've been lazy." He admitted. "I'm happy and excited to do your wedding dress, though. That's how I got started you know? I used to do wedding gowns; that's kind of my thing." He beamed.

Not really knowing what to say in response, I merely smiled and linked my arm with his as he offered it out to me.

"To the fabric store?" He asked.

I hesitated before I replied, glancing over my shoulder to Kennedy. He simply shrugged his shoulders before nodding his head. Turning my attention back to Christian, I nodded my head in agreement. "To the fabric store." I repeated.

Christian smiled happily at my response before gathering his sketch book, tucking it under his other arm, and leading me toward the door. Once outside in the fresh, New York City air, Christian began chatting happily about other little ideas about the dress. Unable to keep up with most of what he was saying, it was all I could do to smile and offer the appropriate response whenever I needed to. Sensing that my mind wasn't totally able to keep up at the moment, Christian changed the topic of the conversation and began asking me all sorts of questions about the band.

After a few minutes of nonstop conversation, I glanced back and saw Kennedy following a few steps behind us, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and an extremely bored look on his face. I frowned softly, feeling bad for dragging him around the city today while he could be off with his friends, causing trouble and flirting with the pretty city girls.

"Is he your chaperone for the day?" Christian whispered.

"Yes." I whispered back. "My fiancé worries about me being alone."

I looked up into Christian's eyes as he tilted his head to the side. "Your fiancé doesn't trust you?" he asked.

"No, it's not that." I said. "He trusts me; he just doesn’t trust anybody else."

"You look like you can take care of yourself." He teased quietly.

I smiled and then shrugged my shoulders. "It's just ... at the beginning of the tour there was an incident," I paused, licking my suddenly chapped lips as I recalled that night to which I had referred, "and if John wasn't there I don't know what would have happened."

"This John beat them up for you?"

"Yes," I smiled, "he totally beat the crap out of them."

Christian raised his eyebrows. "Them?" He asked.

"There were two of them." I replied. "And he took them both on."

"Bare knuckle match?"

I nodded my head. "It was kinda hot." I admitted.

"I wish I could have watched, too." Christian mumbled in an envious tone. "Band boys kicking ass ... that sounds nice."

I stifled a small laugh and then looked across the street so that Christian couldn't see the amused smile on my face.

"Well, this 'John' sounds like he knows how to take care of you," he said, "you gotta give him credit for that."

The smile on my face went from amusement to happiness as I thought about all the little things John did for me, just to make me happy. I give him credit for taking care of me the best way he knows how, and I give him credit for so much more.