Fashioning a Star: A Sapphic Romance

Fashioning A Star A SAPPHIC ROMANTIC COMEDY ABIGAIL TAYLOR Copyright © 2023 by Abigail Taylor All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author. Contents Prologue - Mystique/Jade 1. Mystique/Jade 2. Monica 3. Jade 4. Monica 5. Jade 6. Monica 7. Jade 8. Monica 9. Jade 10. Monica 11. Jade 12. Monica 13. Jade 14. Monica 15. Jade 16. Monica 17. Jade 18. Monica 19. Jade 20. Monica 21. Jade 22. Monica 23. Jade 24. Monica 25. Jade 26. Monica Epilogue - Jade Also by Abigail Taylor Acknowledgments About the Author Prologue - Mystique/Jade PRESENT DAY I stared at the envelope addressed to Mystique Miller, and I cringed. As I ripped it open, I saw an invitation that read: Reunited, and It Feels so Good Please join us for our 15-year high school reunion on Friday, August 11th, at 5:30 p.m. RSVP to the alumni chair by August 1st. I couldn’t believe they were sending these out so early. I guess they wanted a better turnout than the ten-year. Not that I went, but I heard through the grapevine that less than fifty people showed up out of a class of four hundred. Oh well. I sifted through the rest of my mail and tossed the invitation along with the other junk into the recycling. The last thing I wanted to do was subject myself to the hell I endured when I was a teenager. I might have changed a lot since then, but those scars would remain, and there was no need to open them up again. I pushed down those negative thoughts before they took over and got ready for my day. Being a seamstress wasn’t the job I had planned growing up, but it suited me. I could create works of art through multiple facets, which was what I wanted to do with my clothing line. However, that couldn’t happen for a while, so I had to settle for working for others. As I gathered my supplies for the day, my office phone rang, catching me off guard. Most of my clients called my cell. “Hello, this is Jade,” I answered skeptically, prepared for it to be a telemarketer. “Hi, Ms. Miller?” “Yes?” I didn’t know why I said it was a question. “This is Theo Dunbar. I am the assistant to Senator Banks, and he requests your services for his upcoming event.” That was fine and dandy, but I was booked solid. “I’m honored, but I don’t have any openings right now. Please offer my apologies.” He chuckled into the phone. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said ‘requests.’ He demanded I get the best to make his suit, and that’s apparently you, according to City Magazine.” Flattery probably worked for most people, but not me. I didn’t need someone to toot my horn. However, Senator Banks reminded me of every popular kid I’d ever met—an entitled bully—which triggered all those old memories I was trying to suppress. I lost all my bravado as I slipped into the past. The last thing I remembered was saying yes, but I wasn’t even sure to what. CHAPTER 1 Mystique/Jade HIGH SCHOOL “Excuse you,” Tara laughed as she knocked my books out of my hand. I had been rushing to get to my next class on the third floor. Now I would be tardy and probably get detention. I sighed as I went to pick up my stuff. “Did you need some help?” Tara looked around, and all the other cheerleaders were there, watching, including the pack leader—Monica, who stood there like the goddess everyone, including myself, thought she was, but none of them said a word. Even though Tara wasn’t in charge, she was the loudest and did all of Monica’s dirty work. Tara bent down, pretending to help, but instead, she grabbed my sketch pad and waved it in the air. That was the last thing I wanted her to see. Drawing was how I escaped this hell known as high school. Whoever said these were the “glory days” never had to deal with constant ridicule. I was a non-conformist, so it made me an easy target for people like Monica and her gang to pick on. Not to mention my mom thought giving me a “unique” name made me special. Mystique wasn’t what I would’ve chosen for myself, and most people thought it was funny to call me “Mistake” instead. There were so many things people could pick on me for, but it would get much worse if Tara showed everyone who my muse was. As I lunged for my drawings, Tara held them higher. “What do you have hidden in here?” She taunted, but Damon, the star quarterback and Monica’s boyfriend, came up behind her and ripped the book out of her hands before she could open it. “Here.” He handed me the pad back. Then he turned to Tara, “Why don’t you fuck off? Look at her. She’s scared shitless. Leave her be.” He wrapped his arms around Monica and planted a kiss on her lips, which seemed to signify that the show was over. Everyone scattered while I collected my things. “Thank you,” I called out to Damon as I ran to physics. I didn’t have time to wait for his response because I only had a minute to get up three flights of stairs. Mr. Watson was a stickler for the rules, and handing out detention was like a Christmas present to himself. As I was on the final stair, I heard the bell go off, and there was no way I would get out of this. I rushed through the door to grab my seat, but he already had a slip in his hand. “Ms. Miller, this is your third tardy, which means a week’s detention.” He had a bright smile as if that had made his day.