After a minute, she breaks the silence. “I know this is weird,” she says softly, “but I actually wanted to meet you properly, get to know you. Without Chels and Blair around.”
I furrow my brow, careful not to disturb her work. “Why?”
She shrugs, curling my lashes. “Because I think you’re interesting. You haven’t tried to suck up to anyone, and you don’t seem terrified by the Kings.” She smirks, like she finds that both dangerous and amusing. “Most girls either want to be them or fuck them. You don’t really want either, do you?”
I shrug. “Honestly, I just want to survive the school year.”
Stella’s gaze meets mine in the mirror. “You will.” She says it like a promise, then softens. “Look, I know you think I’m just another bitchy rich girl. But unlike Chelsea, I’m not cruel for the sake of it.” She hesitates, then sets the makeup brush down. “I didn’t even go to that stupid Halloween party. I told Chels it was a bad idea, but she does what she wants, and Blair just follows blindly.”
I study her, trying to see the cracks in her veneer. “Why do you hang out with them?”
She shrugs, picking up the mascara wand. “We’ve been friends since we were four. At a certain point, it’s just easier to keep the status quo.” She leans in, coating my lashes. “But I don’t like hurting people. If I can do something to help, I do it. Just… quietly.”
She steps back, surveys her work, then nods. “Perfect.” She gestures to the mirror.
I pivot, staring at my reflection. I’m not sure what I was expecting– sabotage, maybe– but Stella’s work is flawless. My eyes look huge, lips full and soft, skin dewy. It’s… kind of a shock, honestly.
“Thank you,” I breathe, blinking at my reflection in disbelief.
Stella smiles at me in the mirror. “You’re welcome.” She gestures toward the bathroom. “Go change. I’ll do your hair when you come back.”
I grab the dress off the bed and a nude slip from the drawer, heading for the bathroom and shutting the door behind me. As I shimmy out of my leggings and t-shirt, I hear Stella’s voice through the door.
“Seriously, though… how are they treating you? The Kings, I mean.”
I pull on the slip, then the dress, smoothing it over my hips. “Depends on the day,” I call back. “Wes is the nicest. Ford is a pervert, but at least he’s honest about it. And Raf is… complicated.”
Stella laughs. “Yeah, that tracks.” She lowers her voice. “If Wes ever gets to be too much, just tell me. I’ll make his life hell.”
I snort. “He’s fine, really. He actually brings me coffee every morning. I think he’s trying to be, like… a good boyfriend, or whatever.”
There’s a pause, then, “He likes you.”
I open the door to find Stella standing right outside it, arms folded, looking at me with something close to affection. “He does,” she says, nodding. “It’s a problem, actually.”
“Why?” I ask, wrinkling my nose.
She sighs, then motions for me to sit on the vanity stool again. I do, and she stands behind me, fingers moving deftly through my hair as she starts a French braid. “You know our family history?”
“Just what’s on Wikipedia,” I admit.
She laughs, low and bitter. “Then you know our dad was a finance broker until he lost everything. Total humiliation, public scandal, lawsuits, the works. Our mom left two weeks later, never even looked back.”
I twist, craning my neck to see her. “I… didn’t know all that.”
She shrugs, tying off the braid and tucking a stray strand behind my ear. “Wes took it hard. Never really recovered, honestly.” She gives me a searching look. “So go easy on him, okay? He doesn’t have a lot left to lose.”
The words hit me in a soft spot I didn’t know I still had. “I’ll try,” I whisper, swallowing past the lump in my throat.
Stella steps back, inspecting her work. “You look amazing,” she declares. “Are you ready?”
I stand, smoothing the skirt of the dress, then look at myself one last time in the mirror. It’s not just the makeup and the hair. I look older, sharper. Maybe even a little dangerous. Almost like I actually belong here amongst the children of elite society.
“Yeah,” I say. “I think I am.”
Stella moves up beside me, her reflection just over my shoulder. She gives me a sly smile, then leans in, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Kill it, Ava. You hold all the cards. Remember that.”
For a second, it’s easy to imagine us being friends.
