19
Don’t Put on the Dress — Adelaide
“Mia, I’m not going.”
“But it’s Halloween!”
“I hate holidays!”
“But you have to come!”
“No, I don’t!” I raced away from her. We were running in circles around the fountain outside Buckingham Palace—our favorite place to sit and have breakfast before our shift on Saturdays.
I was surprised we hadn’t startled any guards yet. (We definitely spooked a few tourists.) Maybe we looked too idiotic to be worth the hassle of being dragged to the dungeon.
“Why not?” she whined, stopping.
I halted, turning around to face her from several feet away. “Because there’s only six weeks left of the semester and I have—”
She took several rushed steps forward. “No, no, no. What is it really ?”
“What do you mean?”
“Right there. That. You’re pulling at your earring. You’re hiding something.” She pointed at me with narrowed eyes.
I crossed my arms. “I am not that easy to read.”
“Did something happen last night before I got home? Yes! That’s it. Explain. Now.” She took a seat on the edge of the fountain, waiting.
Reluctantly, I joined her. The water pinged behind us as a child threw a coin in.
“Did you and Dorian get into a fight?”
“Possibly.”
“What was the fight about?”
I covered my face. “Boutuskissing.”
“Huh?” she leaned in.
“Itwasaboutuskissing.”
Her gum fell out of her mouth. “You kissed!”
“Be quiet!”
“ You kissed and waited this long to tell me?” She stood and began to pace.
“There’s really no need to pace. It’s only been like twelve hours.”
“I can’t believe you kissed him. Again!”
“Well, he kissed me, if we’re going to get technical about it.”
She paused her pacing. “I knew he liked you. I just knew it. This changes everything. Before it was just some one night fling. But now you two know each other and you’ve kissed with all of this knowledge of another and prior intimacy—”
“Are you done?”
“Wait. How did it lead to an argument? Was it bad?” She was horrified by the idea.
“I wish.” I massaged my temples. “He asked me to be his date tonight.”
Realization swept her face. “This is why you won’t go? You told him no? Why would you do that!”
“Why do you think?”
“Shit.” She paused. “Maybe it’s time to tell her, Addy.”
I thought about telling Sabrina constantly. I thought about what she would say. How she would react. How maybe it was possible she wouldn’t hate me and would understand the situation. But now I had kissed him knowing .
The pictures of him and Victoria destroyed her. There were so many tears; her lipstick drying up and falling off her lips like dead rose petals.
How would she feel knowing that her best friend had been doing the same thing?
“She’ll hate me, Mia.” My voice thickened.
Her eyes softened. “She could never hate you.”
“I hate me.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. “Did Dorian take the rejection well?”
“As well as he could’ve. I said some horrible things though. And he just … stood there and took it. He probably hates me too. It’ll be better this way though. We can return to hating one another until the semester is over.”
“I think you’re underestimating the power of tension.”
Ten hours later, the pads of Mia and Sabrina’s feet were smacking against the hardwood floor as they rushed to get dressed. Trying one another’s shoes on, swapping purses, asking for advice on which teardrop earrings looked better with their masks. (Diamonds on Mia, emeralds on Brina.)
Hairspray and perfume pinched my tear ducts. They zipped back and forth into my room, searching through my thrifted accessories. I watched from the couch with my June edition of The New Yorker reading a story on “The Dread of Getting Dressed.”
“Dreadful it is,” I hummed, watching Brina take her vintage silk-wrapped headband off for a tenth time. I shoved myself further into the couch cushion, letting my hood knot my hair.
“Ta-da!” Mia announced, tugging Brina (who decided on the headband) into the hallway.
The theme of the ball was black-tie with jewel tones. Sapphire, crimson, emerald, et cetera.
Mia had her box braids pulled into a low bun to show off her backless magenta dress with a halter neckline. While Sabrina stood in a deep emerald dress made of chiffon.
I clapped. “You guys look beautiful! Why are you moping?”
“Because you should be coming.” Brina’s glossy pink lips turned down.
“I’ll be—” The buzzer inside the apartment went off. “Did you invite someone?” I sat up abruptly. They exchanged a look but showed no sign of opening the door.
Pushing myself out of the crack of the cushions and putting my slippers on, I opened the door.
“James?” I asked, perplexed. He had sage green suit on, and his hair was pushed back. He always looked dapper, but he managed to upstage himself now.
For his party. That he was supposed to be at right now.
I turned for an explanation, but my roommates had disappeared.
James took in my appearance with a confused look. I brushed down my hair with my hand. “Where is your dress?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“The masquerade ...” The space between his eyebrow crinkled with confusion. “I came to get you all.”
“Did Dorian not tell you I wasn’t coming?” I whispered, gripping the door as I leaned forward. That stubborn, persistent, rigid man.
“He did. But I thought Mia had convinced you to come.”
“She didn’t.” The energetic look on his face slipped. “I’m sorry. It’s really better if I stay back.”
“That’s ridiculous. You have to come.”
Mia shouted from down the hall, “Addy, you turn twenty-two in two weeks! Have fun, live your life. We’re in London!”
“What Mia said,” he agreed.
“Even if I wanted to come, I don’t have anything to wear.” I turned to walk away but was stopped by Sabrina and Mia.
“So … we did a thing. It doesn’t exactly match the theme, but we thought you’d look beautiful in it.” As she finished, she pulled her hands from behind her back, revealing a dress. It was a floor-length silver gown made of silk. Almost like something out of a Roman museum. It looked like stone with the bateau neckline and a completely open back.
I looked to Mia for help. I couldn’t accept this.
Say yes , she mouthed. Her eyes creased at the sides with care.
“Go get dressed,” Sabrina said lovingly, handing the dress off.
The skin on my back was left entirely exposed, from the nape of my neck to the bottom of my spine. The cold leather of James’s car seats chilled my shoulder blades for the entire drive.
I anxiously adjusted the strands of hair hanging outside my low bun. This was a horrible idea. A dreadful idea. It was being jotted down in the book of poor decisions. Right beside dying my hair blond when I was fifteen and returning Dorian’s kiss.
“Wow,” Sabrina and Mia sighed harmoniously as we pulled up to the property.
When Dorian said the masquerade was taking place at James’s mother’s home, he had failed to mention that the home was not a house.
We were pulling up to a mansion that was surrounded by acres of rolling grass and a driveway that ran the length of the home.
We followed a line of cars that were dropping guests off in jewel-toned gowns and velvet suits, all donned in masks.
My heart pounded louder each time a new guest stepped out. My eyes scoured every head of hair and jawline, questioning if Dorian would come.
“Adelaide.” James’s voice cut me off. He was holding my door open, giving me his hand. His green mask was already in place.
I pulled the small silver mask over my face and took his hand. “Thank you.”
“You alright?” he whispered.
I nodded. I needed to get my eyes on Dorian before I could relax.
“You never mentioned that you lived in castle,” I commented.
He laughed. “Maybe it’s because I don’t live here.”
“But you used to,” I guessed.
“Well, yes I did grow up here,” he said unwillingly.
“Why move? It’s not too far from campus.”
“Living with one’s mother while also trying to have a social life and build a career isn’t exactly ideal.”
“I don’t know, I think the idea of having a mother who wants to know about those things sounds like a gift.”
“You’re telling me you enjoy having your mother meddle in your business?”
“If she ever had, I would’ve welcomed it.”
He looked at me with a long, weighted stare. The solemn stare the moon gave me every Halloween as kids ran by the house; parents holding onto pillowcases and disregarded capes.
A look that pulled at the corners of my lips. The same regretful look professors gave me when they asked if my mom was proud of my high test scores.
The sooner the uncomfortable questions came up, the sooner we could file this topic away as One to Never Speak Of.
His words were rickety, shaking like a fence with a rain-rotted picket. “I didn’t mean to—”
I took his hand. “Don’t let me trip up the stairs. This color would be impossible to get stains out of.”
With Mia and Brina behind us, we followed groups of guests as we ascended the staircase that opened up the home. A high-arched ceiling with a skylight greeted us at the entrance. We passed painted portraits and framed photographs of runway shows and …
Holy shit. I forgot.
I spent my entire life cutting out dresses and purses and perfumes from Beverly’s newest campaigns to add to my mood boards above my bed. I dug through every pocketbook section in every thrift store in hopes of finding an original Beverly. I even did last year’s branding project on Beverly’s re-introduction of their 90s shoulder purse collection.
And now I was in the home of the longest running Chief Designer of Beverly.
I drank each image in, trying to memorize them all. Photographs of the 95 Autumn/Winter show. Of the original design of their crescent purse. Of their newest campaign with Luna Aldridge. Private, personal images seen only by the people in those images and this house.
I pressed my hands against the silk on my hips to dry my hands.
I should’ve taken more time to do my hair. Paid more attention to the way I styled myself. I should’ve worn my signet ring or maybe just more deodorant. I didn’t even match the theme for God’s sake. I was a flute of champagne in a room full of lavish red wine.
James welcomed guests, shaking hands every few minutes as we made our way to the end of the grand hallway where we were emptied out into a Cinderella-sized ballroom that bled into a dining room. It was filled with spinning fabric and bright smiles. Feathers, sparkles, silk. Open balconies peppered the sides of the room, looking over the rolling green hills.
“Finally, Jameson! I’ve been waiting for you. What took you so long?” A woman in a ruby red dress and black lace mask immediately approached us.
I stopped short. Cressida Breyer was in front of me. Chief Designer of Beverly Cressida Breyer.
“I was picking up Adelaide and her friends, remember?” James gestured to us.
I prayed she couldn’t see the beat of my heart through the silk.
“ Oh.” Her attention turned to me.
I stretched my hand forward with a smile. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Breyer, you have a wonderful son.”
She smiled. It was James’s smile. Sweet and kind.
Large diamonds overtook my palm as she returned my gesture. “What a lovely dress.”
Cressida Breyer likes my dress . “Thank you,” I responded as if I was a sane person.
“If you don’t mind, I need to find Dorian so I can make my announcement. I left that poor boy with my notes.”
Sabrina’s entire presence beside me crackled like a firework. I didn’t have to turn to see her blush.
“I’m going to find the bathroom,” I lied.
With haste, I made for the first balcony I spotted.