Renegades (Hotbloods #3)

“Have your dresses arrived?” I asked, moving to the walk-in wardrobe where Lauren was waiting, her mouth hanging open as she gazed in wonderment at the gown with her name attached. It was an unusual amethyst shade that perfectly complemented her brown eyes and coffee-colored hair. On the counter beside it were two boxes. One contained a stunning necklace with a central teardrop diamond as long as my pinky finger. Tiny amethysts surrounded the teardrop, highlighting the vivid tone of the gown. There was a matching bracelet to go with it, though these diamonds were circular, with a single amethyst in the center of each one.

“Lauren, that is stunning!” Angie gushed, as Lauren continued to stare. I grinned, knowing she would look beautiful, especially as the color of the gown made her glasses look like the perfect accompaniment. Tucked away below the gown was a matching pair of shoes, glittering as though they were crafted from solid crystal.

“Which one’s yours?” I asked Angie as she moved into the wardrobe.

A tag with her name had been placed above a beautiful aquamarine gown. In a box beside it, there was an exquisite diamond necklace in the same style as Lauren’s, with surrounding gems of blue topaz and aquamarine. Instead of a bracelet, she had a matching ring, with the matching shoes tucked away in a box underneath.

“You’re going to look so beautiful, Angie,” I said, and Lauren nodded in agreement, still speechless from the sight of her gown.

“What about yours, Riley?” Angie wondered, a thrilled grin on her face, as we moved over to mine. It had been zipped up in a protective case. As I slowly undid the zipper and pulled away the case, I understood why. In front of me was the most gorgeous dress I had ever seen in my entire life.

It was made of a fine, gauzy material, in a sort of blushing, dusky golden tone, the whole stretch of fabric glittering with tiny diamonds. A train flowed downward, intertwined with thin strands of rose gold. It looked like the wings of a butterfly, so fragile and delicate, yet holding a remarkable beauty. In the box beside it was an elegant necklace, with one large, oval-cut diamond in the center, and smaller ovals running all the way up to the clasp. In a second box lay a ring with a huge yellow diamond in the center, and a bracelet of oval diamonds, just like the necklace. Glittering shoes sat in a box below, sparkling like they belonged to Cinderella.

Angie whistled. “Never mind Brisha—you’re going to look like the queen!”

I blushed. “Eh… You guys are going to look prettier.” I pulled Lauren’s dress down from the rail. “Now, I say we crack open another bottle of that sparkling stuff, and we get ready like it’s the end of senior year!”

We brought the dresses and accessories into the main living space. Angie did the honors with the bottle of sweet, fizzy stuff, while Lauren undressed and stepped into the stunning amethyst gown. With my help, we shimmied it up onto her shoulders, and I set to work fastening all the buttons that went up the back. Somehow, it fitted as though it was custom made for her, though nobody remembered anyone coming to take our measurements.

“Lauren, you look incredible,” I said as I took in the sight of my beautiful friend. She looked so slender and sophisticated in the gown, the straps thin on her shoulders, the neckline flatteringly cut, the waist hugging her slim frame.

Darting back into the walk-in wardrobe, I grabbed the full-length mirror and staggered to the living room with it, placing it against the wall so Lauren could look at herself. Even she gaped as she took in her reflection, turning this way and that, smoothing down the silky fabric.

“Hey, I found these!” Angie called as she reentered the room, clutching an armful of peculiar-looking objects, then freezing as she saw Lauren. “Holy crap, Lauren, you look like a movie star!”

“What are those?” I asked as Angie crossed the room, dumping the peculiar objects on the sofa.

“There was a note that said, ‘Use these for your hair and face’, so I’m guessing that’s what they’re for.” Angie shrugged, picking up a strange, helmet-looking device and placing it on her head.

Lauren smiled. “Ah, so that’s what she wanted me to write that for,” she said.

Too engrossed in the device to listen to Lauren, Angie pressed a button on the side of the peculiar helmet. The whole thing lit up yellow for a moment, before fading to black. “Get this thing off my head!” she shouted, suddenly panicking.

“Hold on, hold on!” I grabbed the sides of the helmet and lifted it up, my eyes widening in surprise at the sight beneath.

“What is it? Is it awful? Oh God, tell it to me quick,” Angie said.

I grinned. “Go look in the mirror.”

She hurried across to it and took in her reflection, seeing the stylish up-do the machine had done with her natural curls. It had softened them slightly, making an elegant chignon with the length, so that everything was neatly and beautifully tucked away.

“Where has this thing been all my life?” she muttered.

We settled into our routine of getting ready, throwing devices to each other, and helping one another with buttons and clasps and ribbons. Angie discovered devices in the pile that could apply perfect makeup. All you had to do was flick through and pick a look, and it would put it on your face, just as requested.

My dress was the trickiest to put on, with a series of buttons up the back and ribbons dotting the sides and front, which needed to be tied shut, so I didn’t end up flashing something I didn’t intend to. It took both Lauren and Angie to get it fastened.

“Do you feel like you’re getting ready for prom?” Angie asked.

“Yeah, I feel like Freddy Mercer should be coming to my door any minute, to stand awkwardly in the hall, while Roger goes full Spanish Inquisition mode. Poor guy.” I laughed, remembering his ill-fitting tux and slicked-back hair, and our nervous slow-dancing.

“Hey, at least it wasn’t Michael Russo, who seemed to think I’d given him permission to run his snaky little hands all over me,” Angie said, shuddering dramatically. “I had to shower, like, twenty times after the prom, to get the grossness off.”

“My date wasn’t so bad,” Lauren chimed in, a wistful look on her face.

I smiled warmly. “Ah yes, Seamus Barton, the love of Lauren’s life.”

Angie grinned licentiously. “You guys kissed for the first time, didn’t you, that night?”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I liked him. Still do,” she admitted. “We met up just before we all went to Texas, and we talked about making it work while I was at Stanford, but with him at NYU, we both realized there wasn’t much point. I think about him sometimes, though… wonder what he’s up to and stuff. He was supposed to be going to Europe with his brother and his brother’s wife, so I guess he’s probably still there, seeing the Eiffel Tower or something.” She sighed. “I can’t even remember how long we’ve been gone. Do you think our parents are worrying right now?”