Chapter 47
(6)
Then he uncrosses his legs and stands. “I was going to give you the pleasure of keeping you company while you fixed the dress, but since you’re leaving.” He shrugs and then waves. “Bye, April.”
He leaves before I have a chance to say anything.
I slump against the wall behind me, still gripping the carcass of my dress. I close my eyes, and a lone tear rolls down my cheek.
I want to go home.
I’m so tired–of all the drama and pressure.
But…
I look down at my dress. The bodice is salvageable; the ripped part could be repurposed to some kind of distressed theme. And the ripped wings are thin enough to be used as-
I sigh. “Shit.”
Damaged as it is, the dress is salvageable.
And, ugh, it would be so satisfying to see the look on Valerie’s face when she sees she didn’t win.
I groan loudly. “Peter!” I yell.
The door opens half a second later. Peter sticks his head in, grinning. “You bellowed?”
I roll my eyes. “Sit down. You’re helping.”
His grin widens as he plops down. “My pleasure, Chaos Queen.”
*訂專
“Spring!” June gasps when I stumble into the room at five pm the next day. The same day? I don’t know; I lost track of time.
She stands up from her stool where she’s being primped. “Where were you? Nobody would tell me anything when I asked, and they all looked sad and on edge.”
I pull my sister into a hug, stifling a yawn. “I’m sorry, I should have come check on you. I’ve been busy all day.”
She pulls away from me and eyes the bundle in my arms.
“What’s that?”
I give her a bleary–eyed smile. “My dress.”
She gapes. “What happened? Why does it-”
1/2
13:03 Fri, Oct 3
Chapter 47
cup. And
“You need to get back to hair and makeup. And 1-” I’m cut off as a loud yawn takes me over, and at the corner of my eye, I see one of the stylists wrinkle her nose in disdain.
I ignore her. She doesn’t know what I’ve been through. She can’t imagine how I feel after spending the last twelve hours putting a dress back together by hand while listening to an obnoxious Ashford tell me tales of his summers in the Hamptons and how much he’d rather go backpacking through Europe.
June looks at me suspiciously as I set the dress gingerly down on the bed and head into the bathroom.
My first instinct is to run myself a bath, but I know it’ll be too soothing, and I’ll either fall asleep and drown or fall asleep and miss the ball, which would render all my hard work vanity.
So I opt for a quick shower, letting the water soothe my weariness and all the dried tears on my face.
By the time I’m out of the bathroom, the stylists are antsy. Thanks to how late I was returning to the room, we’re on a time crunch, and if they don’t hurry, we’ll be late.
I try my hardest not to fall asleep as they make my face up, and they finish at exactly six–fifty. This gives me five minutes to put my fragile dress on as gently as possible.
June’s jaw drops. “Spring-”
“I know, right?” I grab her hand. “But no time to waste, come on.”
We’re the last two to arrive at the entrance of the ball, and I end up at the end of the receiving line.
All the Ashfords are inside, personally greeting each contestant as we file inside.
The line is already moving, and I take a deep breath to calm my nerves.
Here goes nothing. Tonight could either be the most amazing night of my life yet.
Or I’ll wish I never listened to Peter Ashford and got out when I could.
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7 days ago
I hope Peter and Eliza fall in love…
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