"You. did. not." Rose laughs when I repeat what happened today in the breakroom.
"I felt so stupid."
"Surely he's overheard worse about himself. Wait, what was he wearing today?"
Rose only cares because she's a stylist. That's why we refer to him as Dior. One night when I was inevitably talking shit, I Googled 'Edward Cullen' to show her what he looks like. A photograph of him at some high-society bullshit event appeared.
Rose gasped. He was in some suit from some season by Dior.
I tuned her out.
But that photo of him stayed burned in my memory.