𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧, young royals

Chapter 30: Final

Until I Found You, Stephen Sanchez & Em Beihold

30: Final

*third person point of view*

Upon tradition, it was the third-years who'd picked the theme for the end-of-year ball: a masquerade.

Masked students swarmed the rented ballroom in puffy dresses and perfectly tailored tuxedos, laughing, hugging.  There was an outlandish and whimsical theme to the room that reminded one of a fairy tale, with eye-catching decorations of flowers and vine.  The walls were adorned with twirling strings of tiny, yellow lightbulbs and fastened synthetic stems.  The big light was off, the sole source of light being that of thin strips of shell-pink, cyan, and emerald green that pierced through the mist of the smoke machines.

It was a gleeful night.

At last, the stress and wrecking nerves of exams were released, disintegrating into thin air as the students prattled with friends of summer plans and expectations for the following school year.  Lovers reunited in their fanciful attires, kissing under the quaint and charming hue of the night.

Stella had never hated being a woman more than when she wore these God forsaken heels.

Her feet were burning, the shoes' leather chaffing the back of her heels, and she was certain she'd see blood by the end of the night.

"God, can we just take these off," she complained, wriggling her toes under the veil of her dress.

Tonight, a silver necklace and stellar pendant hung until breasts, and argent finery embellished her fingers and wrists. Her heels were 5-inches, and they were also silver, coated almost entirely in shining, colourless stones. Her Columbian mask was purple and lined with silver, pointing upward on either sides of her face.  As for her dress, she wore a slimming lilac dress, with dazzling gems scattered from her waist upward, and its linen skirt reached barely just her ankles. It was low-cut, of course, and displayed nearly all of her back.

And it was an absolute nightmare to use the restroom in. Still, she loved the way it made her feel—sparkling, shiny, confident.

"At least, you're not sweating in one of those awful tux like every guy in here," pointed out Maddie.

"Word," said Frederika, raising the hem of her glass. "Cheers to being a woman."

Stella chuckled, tinking her glass.

"Cheers."

Frederika looked absolutely phenomenal tonight, she mused. Her smaragdine dress of silk curved on her body perfectly and matched with her eyes, simple but so beautifully so. Chestnut curls cascaded down her bare back, and gold-plated earrings dangled on each side of her neck.  Her half-mask was jet-black and lined with swirls of glittery gold and beads, just like her 4-inch heels.

They hadn't yet found the right mind to establish what they were, let alone to decide where exactly they saw this going, but they were speaking again, and she hoped they'd share a dance tonight.

"Guys, be honest; do I look bloated?" said Maddie, resting a hand on her stomach.  "I've had so many of these velvet cupcakes."

Stella subtly poured vodka from Felice's flask into her punch.

"You look fine," she responded.

"Maddie, I could floss my teeth with your waist," said Frederika.

"Who cares, anyway?" said Felice.

Maddie sighed, rolling her eyes.

"You guys are useless."

Felice couldn't quite find her confidence tonight, but it was old news, wasn't it? Her dress of muslin and feathers felt a little too tight, her face a little too plump, and her gaze kept swerving back to Sara's across the ballroom. She'd given a lot of thought to her and Simon's exchange the week prior: