Burn Out *18+*

Chapter 34

I felt like I was on eggshells as soon as Jasper came back into the apartment and the feeling didn't leave, even while Zara and I were getting ready for her event. It was a little bit of a strange thing. I had a queen getting ready in my home and we were getting ready like teen girls going on a double date. I sat cross legged on my bedroom floor in front of my mirror with makeup and hair products dispersed around me as if they had been dropped out of a hurricane. Zara was racing in and out of the bathroom each time she touched a hot tool to her hair, asking me if she looked okay.

She looked amazing, as usual, because she was literal perfection. but when she pulled out her dress, I was floored.

"Your silence is scaring me," she said, a rare waver of true insecurity flashing through her. She loved my fashion advice, but feared genuine judgement. And, as a queen, there was a chance this dress was going to be the wrong move.

But from a fashion stand point, it was so right.

The pale pink gown made her icy complexion shine as if she was a glowing star and she had only accentuated it was cold-toned make up. But amidst her winter, there was spring. The gown's bodice was covered in embroidered flowers with violet, blush, and mint hues. Above them, hand sewn flowers brought the dress to life, almost like they were growing out of the dress. Paired with a tiered skirt, it was a dress that some designers would kill for. Light and flow, but harsh and untouchable all at once. She was a rose breaking through the last layer of ice.

As a queen, the biggest statement came from the sheer paneling that ran over her midsection.

"There's backing," she blurted when she saw where my eyes had gone. "It just looks like it's skin. But if it's too much, I brought another dress."

Of course, she had because a dress like this could cause a stir in a world where royals were regulated so heavily. But she was the queen of her people, adored by all, and this night was about nothing more than making a statement.

"It's perfect," I promised.

I wrapped up my hair and makeup, giving myself adequate time to slip into my own gown. It fit just perfectly, like I knew it would, and I was thankful that the anxiety was taking away my appetite because I had forgotten to account for comfort during and after meals.

"Holy shit," Zara gasped when I reappeared.

"Is that a good thing?" I asked, though I didn't truly care. My dress felt like my armor now. Its purpose was beyond that of impressing people. It was a release, a sanctuary. My fingers traced the stones over my belly, some spilling upwards over my breasts, others dripping down towards my navel.

"It's a great thing. This is going to be the start of an amazing future for you."

I smiled at the words because that was what was expected of me, but her words were irrelevant. My future was not here, in my apartment, designing dresses. It was out there, doing the dirty work that the public didn't need to know about. It would start when I got back home and listened to all of the phone taps that had been sent to my email.

The gala went as planned. Zara was not the star of the show for once and I can admit to being delighted at some of the creative pieces I saw. Women and men walked into the ballroom with show-stopping creations that made us all pause and whisper before leaping out to ask about designers and materials. The creativity in the room was unmatched and I was pleasantly surprised to find that I wasn't the only person in the room who had created the gown they wore. I even got to laugh with a lovely young woman who confessed to cutting up dozens of thrifted skirts to make her gown which looked like it had come off the runway.

For a brief moment, I wondered if this could be my life. I wondered if the joy that swelled in my chest could be something I woke up to everyday. I could chat with other creators about real struggles and critique new designs with people who were passionate about the same thing I was. I could work with lovely women and men, people like Zara who were in the public eye, people who went through a dozen events a year. I would make enough money to be more than comfortable. I would have a support system like no other. I could go home to dexter every night and tell him about my day. I could live a life that I had carved out for myself instead of one that had been handed to me.

But that was all just a wonderful like fantasy. Because my mother was still out there and I was bringing her back.

~~~Distraction Section~~~

Hello All! Thanks for sticking around for my big news!

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