Chapter Six Continued...

The running shower is audible from her bedroom. Several nightclub dresses have been laid out on the bed. I gulp when I see them. They're sexy and made of a soft expensive fabric. Curious, I lean over to check the tags. They're French. I gulp again. 

I've never seen Ari in a dress. Most days she looked like a skater girl out of Seventeen or Teen Vogue. Only those girls were styled, Ari just was. But I hadn't seen her wear anything like this. This would be a new side I'd only seen on her Instagram.

"You like? I got them in Toulouse." Ari walks past me with a towel wrapped around her body, and another turbaned on top of her head. The heat from her shower still lingers around her. And she smells like fresh raspberries and sweet vanilla.

"Yes, they're gorg." I pull my eyes away from her and back to the dresses.

"Which one are you wearing?" She asks.

"Oh, I...don't know." But I do know. I have my eyes on a midnight-blue spaghetti strapped dress. It's made of a silky material and looks as soft as butter. Ari sees my longing stare and hands it to me. 

"Try it on. Not without..." She runs over to her dresser and then pulls out a strapless lacy bra. "This." She hands me the bra. "Now go shower."

"Uh...won't your parents find it strange to see us walking around in dresses?" I ask. It was a valid question. My mother would never let me wear these.

"My parents are out of the country." Ari stands in the mirror and removes the makeshift turban from her head. Damp locks fall in wet waves down her back. "Try to avoid my brother. He's on summer vaca. If he catches us this is definitely blackmail material."

I leave her room with the dress, then I tiptoe past her brother's room to the bathroom. I finish my shower and style my damp hair into Ari's favorite messy updo. Why not it worked for her? Then I try on the dress. It fits perfectly.

It's long in the back, flowing down just past my knees. Then in the front, it swoops up only coming up to my mid-thigh. It looks like butter and is creamy soft on my skin. It's the nicest dress I'd ever worn. It's better than the dress I'd be wearing to prom.

I step out of the bathroom and bump directly into a solid figure. My eyes slowly trail up the muscular chest until they meet a set of honey brown eyes. Ari's brother. Damien is standing only a couple of inches from me, shirtless and wearing sweatpants. He looks down at me under bushy eyebrows. His unkempt hair falls in messy tendrils around his face and over his eyes.

He has the same expressive face as Ari, he is startled, and his brow shoots straight up. I start to apologize, but he pushes past me, nudging me out of the way, and slams the bathroom door behind him. I stand in the hall for a moment, put off by his rudeness, before hurrying back to Ari's room.

"I think your brother made us," I say as I open the door.

"I accident..." I stop mid-sentence at the sight of Ari. She looks like a Hollywood star or supermodel on the red carpet. If I'd thought I looked amazing in my dress, then I didn't know the definition of amazing.

"Don't worry about Damien. No biggie." Ari says. She is holding a curling iron to a section of her hair. Her hair cascades over her shoulder in perfect ringlets. Though her hair was done beautifully, it was her dress that had caught my breath. It's made of a similar buttery material to my own but it's tan.

On her, it's nude color. It made me look twice. The dress accented her every curve and made her cleavage look bomb. Like da bomb, seriously. And yet the dress is tasteful. It's long sleeved and has loops for her thumbs so the sleeves don't roll up. The fabric flowed in from each of her shoulder creating a V-neck then rippled down the front and stopped just above her thigh.

"You look fabulous." We say in unison.

"Are you kidding me?" I circle her to see the full dress. "I'm supposed to go out standing next to you. Kim K wouldn't be so foolish."

Ari laughs and brushes the compliment off. "Thanks, you look sexy." Her eyes run up and down my dress. Then motions for me to spin, which I do.

She says, "You're keeping that dress." She sees me about to protest. "No arguments. It's yours. Happy birthday."

"Ari..." I start.

"No arguments." She looks at me through her mirror. "You can have a garment bag to hide it in, your mom will never know. And if you're worried about the price it was free."

"You got these dresses for free?" I say incredulously.

"Yeah. I was hooking up with this guy in France and his mother was a big shot designer." My expression must be strange because she stops and turns her full attention to look at me. She's checking my expression for something, but I don't know what.

I'm probably making the same face I made when she told me a fairytale story of a day she spent on the beach in Athens, with a minor prince. It's not even a lie she had picture proof on her Instagram with over 20k likes.

"What? They didn't make the summer collection; his mom was literally going to burn them. He asked if I wanted them. And I said 'Ouais, putain!'" She said this last part in a French accent.

I don't know what to say. Except, thanks. When she knows I'm not going to put up a further fight, she smiles and continues the finishing touches on her hair.

No one tells you this, and the movies always leave it out, but the best part of going out on a big night is getting ready with your girlfriend. It should be a boring event, bathing, hair, make-up, picking an outfit, jewelry, shoes, perfume, purse. However, getting ready is the entree, the party or the club after is the dessert.

Ari blasts the music, and we dance around the room, talked about prom, and our plans for the summer. We laugh and giggle. What should have taken an hour took three. By 10 o'clock, I didn't think we were going out at all. Which would've been fine by me, I'd already had so much fun and it's a school night. When I mention the time, Ari exclaims in excitement we are early. I'm not sure what galaxy Ari lives in.

Ari grabs me by the arm and pulls me in front of her mirror. She's a young woman; no longer a teen. Her raven ringlets have been shaken out and the loose waves are pulled back on out of her face. Her make-up is soft and warm. Her eyes are smoked and winged. Her lips are plumper, glossier, and have been colored a natural pink-tan.

A simple grey stone hangs on a silver chain above her cleavage. And a series of silver looped piercing along the tops of both ears. And she smells tantalizing. Not her usual aroma, though if I lean in close, I still smell a whiff of her shampoo.

She's extremely intimidating to stand next to. It always was, but it felt especially true tonight. I finally look at myself. I'm not as glamorous as Ari, but I do look pretty and more mature. I pass as an adult—barely. There is an overtly babyish and freshness to my face that can't be concealed by make-up. My body; however, is a whole different story.

The dark fabric of the dress does transforming things to my curves. It accentuates my waist, makes my breast look bigger and perkier. And the heels I'm wearing change the shape of my butt and calves. As I look at the two of us in the mirror, all I can think is jailbait. We are trouble in heels.

What we're about to do is bad. So-so-so bad! This is far worse than buying a pack of beers. This is criminal. I feel queasy in the stomach and mentally list off all the crimes.

Underage drinking, fraud, identity theft, possession...

Ari reaches into her purse and hands me a flask.

Turns out I hadn't been saying the crimes in my head but listing them out loud. I take a large sip of the liquid acid and it burns all the way down my throat.

"Relax, chica. We can't be convicted as adults." She smiles then leans in and jokingly whispers into my ear. "That's next year."

At least I hope it's a joke. I take another gulp from the flask. Ari saunters out of her room like she's on a freaking catwalk. And I follow her not nearly as confident. Our heels clack on the tiled floors as we walk. We're halfway down the hall when a door opens and a fully dressed Damien steps into the hallway. The faded letters of Harvard, on his shirt, are visible behind his crossed arms.

"Where do you think you're going?" He says.

Ari rolls her eyes and scoffs. She doesn't yell at him, not like before. Instead, her demeanor shifts and her lip pouts.

"Damien. It's our birthday." She says. The words come out as a pleading whine. "We're going to a party."

He scrutinizes Ari up and down. He even throws a curt glance at me. Again, it's empty and disinterested. Which sucks because come on, I look great. Maybe he was gay? Or just rude.

"A kickback? Dressed like that?" He points at her dress as if it's the most horrendous thing he's ever seen. "Mom and Dad would...

Ari cuts him off, "What do you want?"

Damien scoffs and throws his hands up dramatically. I want to laugh, he and Ari are so expressive. Drama queens. "I'm only concerned with your safety lil' sis."

Ari squints at him. "I'll do one math assignment next year." She says.

"Two Math and two Science." He responds quickly. "And I want at least an A. None of that B+ shit you pulled last time" 

Ari rolled her eyes. "You had a C average, it had to be believable..."

"Ari..."  He growls.

She rolls her eyes. "Okay, deal."

Damien takes a step out of our path.

"Happy Birthday!" He shouts at us as we pass. "Remember, use protection!"

Ari flips him off without turning around. Then she mutters under her breath. "Thank god, he is an idiot. He's the worst."

I had no objections there. I stop at the front door, but she keeps walking.

"Isn't the Jeep parked in the front."

Ari smile slyly, "Silly, we're not taking the Jeep."  Ari lifts a black key fob and shakes it in the air. "We're taking the Roadster."

I stare at the fob engraved with the silver T-shaped logo dangling from her fingers.

"Ari, no," I say in a harsh whisper.

"Yeesss." She nods her head. "My parents said I could drive it. Otherwise, they wouldn't have left the key for me to find."

She shakes the fob at me again and walks into the garage.

I don't know if her parents actually gave her permission or if she is going by the old adage finder's keepers losers weepers. I don't really want to know. I add grand theft auto to my ever-growing list of felonies.

I follow her into the open garage. I can't help but stare at the cherry red sports car with stars in my eyes. Ari slides into the front seat of the car and leans over to look at me from the open passenger side window.

"Get in."

I open the door. The inside interior is sleek and made of white leather. On the outside I casually sit down in the passenger seat but truthfully, I'm melting into the leather. I can't contain my smile or my excitement. Ari puts the car in reverse and the Tesla quietly purrs as she pulls the car out of the driveway.

TBC...thanks for reading Lovelies.