Page 66 of Picture Perfect

At least everything is still covered. Even if the fit of the dress leaves little to the imagination.

"Addy, you look...wow." Gen's voice is filled with honest admiration as she steps back to appraise her work.

I swallow hard, attempting to reconcile the reflection with the girl I've always been. The soft waves in my blonde hair frame my face in a way that feels both foreign and enchanting. My green eyes, usually dulled by memories of past torment, now sparkle under the artistry of Gen's makeup skills. "I don't know if I can do this," I confess, my voice a whisper of uncertainty.

"Hey," Gen says, her hands on my shoulders, grounding me. "You're still you. Strong, brilliant Addy. Just...with a little extra shine." Her grin is infectious, and despite myself, I feel the corners of my lips twitch upwards. "Besides, I'll be there every step of the way. And, if you really don't like it, we'll leave. It's no big deal."

"Okay, let's do this," I say, more to myself than to her, as we make our way downstairs.

The descent feels like an eternity, each step amplifying my nerves. What was I thinking agreeing to come out tonight? The hardwood floor of the foyer greets us, and there they are waiting. For a moment, their silence slices through me. Do they not like it?

"Shit," Dre mutters under his breath, the silence stretching taut like a wire before snapping with Gen's giggle.

"Close your mouth, Chess, you'll catch flies," Gen teases, and I follow her gaze to see Chess, his jaw slack with surprise, admiration etched into his features.

"Saint, Dre..." Gen prompts, nudging them playfully. "Anything to say?"

Dre, leaning against the wall with his shoulder-length hair and ice blue eyes shadowed by the dim light, shifts uncomfortably, his hand not-so-subtly adjusting himself. Despite the heat creeping up my cheeks, I can't help but notice the raw intensity in his gaze.

"Fucking delicious," Dre finally says, his voice gruff, betraying the composed facade he always tries to maintain.

"You look nice, princess," Saint adds, his own approval clear even without words.

"Addy, you're stunning," Chess finally finds his voice, stepping forward with an open sincerity that warms me more than any dress or makeup ever could.

"Thank you," I manage, my heart thrumming a chaotic rhythm. They're looking at me not with the scorn I've grown accustomed to but with something akin to wonder. It's unnerving yet exhilarating.

"Let's not keep the night waiting," Gen announces, her arm linking with mine, pulling me toward our awaiting evening.

Every fiber of my being buzzes with anticipation and anxiety, but as I step out with Gen by my side and the boys' eyes following me, I realize that tonight, for the first time in a long while, I feel truly beautiful.

The SUV's engine purrs to life under Saint’s steady hands, the vibrations a soothing hum in the background. I slide into the backseat, sandwiched between Gen and Chess, whose hand finds its way to my bare thigh. Gen commandeers the radio before we've even left the driveway, her fingers dancing over the dials until the car fills with the high-energy beats of an upbeat party anthem.

"Turn it up!" Gen hollers over the music, her excitement palpable as she cranks the volume higher.

"Jesus, Gen, are you trying to make us deaf before we get there?" Saint complains, though the smirk on his face betrays his true amusement.

"Live a little, Rhett," Gen flicks his shoulder, leaning forward to catch my eye with a mischievous sparkle in her gaze. "Tonight's about letting go."

"Easy for you to say," I murmur, my words nearly lost in the cacophony of sound.

"Hey," Chess says, turning his full attention toward me, his hand squeezing my thigh gently and sending a wave of heat straight to my pussy. "You good?"

I nod, but it's a lie. The truth is, I'm moments away from being swallowed whole by nerves. But this is what normal teenagers do, right? They go to parties, they dance, they laugh. They don't flinch at every sudden movement or look over their shoulder for threats lurking in the shadows.

"Addy," his free hand cups my cheek and turns me to face him. I can feel Saint's eyes watching me in the rearview mirror.

Chess runs his thumb over my bottom lip, pressing down until I release it from between my teeth. His eyes search mine as he leans in and brushes his lips against my own. "You really do look beautiful."

"Thank you."

He's about to lean in further when we start to slow. The SUV pulls up to the curb, and the scene before us is instantly overwhelming. The house is ablaze with lights, silhouettes moving behind gauzy curtains, the thumping bass of the music bleeding out into the street. Laughter and shouts mingle with the soundtrack of the night, creating a symphony of chaos.

"Here we go," Gen says, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze as we step out of the vehicle and into the fray.

It's only a party, not a battlefield.

"Stay close," Dre advises, his presence immediately behind me both comforting and unsettling. I can feel the heat of him, smell the faint scent of his cologne that doesn't quite mask the underlying tension.

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