Chapter 114: Hilarious Introductions
"Gather around, everyone! I'd like to introduce the new assistant for Blaine's Style Studio," Blaine Jackson announced loudly. As if by magic, the designers scattered around the room, busy tidying up makeup kits or cleaning workstations, converged at lightning speed. The sheer quickness of their response left Claire Grace wide-eyed in astonishment.
"Hi, everyone. My name is Claire Grace. You can call me Claire or even Cee if you'd like." She offered a warm smile as she introduced herself to the team.
Before she could say more, a chorus of introductions erupted, each more surprising than the last.
"I'm Louis! They all call me Lou!"
"I'm Dave… but everyone here calls me Dummy."
Laughter rippled through the group, a mix of camaraderie and genuine amusement.
Another voice chimed in, clearly trying to top the humor: "I'm George Zhu… but somehow, they all call me Pork Chop."
This elicited even louder laughter, the kind that brought tears to a few eyes.
"Alright, enough of the comedy show. Now that the introductions are over, get back to work," Blaine instructed, waving his hand dismissively at the group. As they dispersed, he turned to Claire, holding a pink mini dress in his hand.
"Claire, change into this dress and stand by the display window. I need to see how it looks in action."
"Wait, *now*?" Claire pinched the edge of the dress between her fingers, her face scrunching in dismay. "Blaine, can we pick something… longer? Just a little?"
She thought back to the last time she had to wear a short dress at a department store event. Lucas Zeller had nearly lost his mind over it, chastising her for hours. This dress was even shorter—and brighter! If Lucas found out, he might just explode.
And besides, she needed time to prepare herself mentally. At least she'd want to wear something practical underneath—like safety shorts.
"Claire, the whole point is to evaluate the silhouette, especially your leg line. A longer dress would defeat the purpose," Blaine replied with casual indifference. He then reached over and swept her hair back into an elegant twist, exposing her slender, alabaster neck.
"You should consider updating your style. Don't keep yourself trapped in the schoolgirl look forever. Even without makeup, you could turn heads if you put in just a little effort."
Despite his praise, Claire remained unconvinced. "But this dress—"
Before she could finish, her phone buzzed insistently.
"Blaine, I'm sorry, I need to take this." She handed the dress back to him and quickly answered.
"Snail Girl, where are you?" Lucas's voice came through, anxious and urgent.
A knot formed in Claire's stomach. She had a bad feeling about this.
"What's wrong, Lucas? I'm at—"
"I'm at County General Hospital. I don't have time to pick you up tonight, so get home safely on your own. If you're nervous about being alone, ask Sarah to stay with you. Be good. I have to go." The line went dead before she could respond.
Claire stood frozen, the phone still pressed to her ear. *He's at the hospital? Why? Is he hurt?* And Sarah? Why would she need Sarah's company unless something serious had happened?
No, she couldn't just go home knowing Lucas was in the hospital.
"Claire, where are you going?" Blaine called out as she abruptly turned and bolted for the door.
"Claire, wait! If you're going somewhere, let me drive you," he insisted, catching up to her. Gently but firmly, he grabbed her by the arms. "Who was that? Tell me what's going on, and I'll take you there."
Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over as she finally spoke. "Lucas—he's in the hospital. I need to get to him!"
"Don't cry," Blaine said softly, pulling her into a brief, comforting hug. "Stay here. I'll grab my car and drive you."
Claire nodded, sniffling, as Blaine dashed off to fetch his car.
---
The operating room light clicked off, and a surgeon emerged, pulling off his damp mask and tossing it into a nearby trash bin.
"Doctor, how is my sister? Is she going to be okay?" Lucas demanded, grabbing the surgeon's arm.
"You're the patient's brother?" The doctor cast him a detached glance before speaking. "She's stable. Her injuries include superficial abrasions on her face, back, and arms, along with a third-degree ankle fracture and a dislocated elbow."
Lucas's brow furrowed. "Wait. A third-degree fracture? A dislocated elbow? And you're calling this *stable*?"
The doctor cleared his throat, clearly unfazed by Lucas's rising anger. "For someone who survived being hit in traffic, these injuries are relatively mild. She's lucky. No amputations, no traumatic brain injury, and no vegetative state—"
"You think that's *mild*?" Lucas exploded, his voice booming. "What kind of doctor are you?"
The doctor blinked, clearly startled by Lucas's volcanic rage. He took a step back before muttering something unintelligible and scurrying off.
Lucas clenched his fists, trembling with fury. He would deal with the surgeon's indifference later. For now, his sole focus was on Blaire Zeller. She was still in the operating room, and he wasn't leaving until he saw her with his own eyes.