bed chem | drew starkey

CHAPTER 35

LATE APRIL - EARLY MAY 2024

the room was all hushed luxury — soft cream walls, wide windows that bathed everything in natural light, and racks of impossibly beautiful gowns lining the sides like silent witnesses. aurora stood barefoot on the raised platform in the center of the room, arms lifted slightly as three stylists circled around her like orbiting moons, adjusting fabric and murmuring in low voices.

the moment she slipped into the gown, she knew.

the black bodice was structured and sculpted like armor — sharp and elegant, hugging her torso like it was made just for her (because it was). it cut across her collarbone just right, showing off her shoulders in a way that felt bold but classic. and then the skirt. oh, the skirt — layers upon layers of soft tulle, cascading down in dreamy pastels that melted into white near the hem, like watercolors bleeding together. it moved like a sigh every time she shifted.

"don't breathe too hard," her stylist teased, crouching at her feet with a mouthful of pins. "we're still shaping the bottom."

aurora's gaze didn't leave the mirror. she didn't need to turn or pose or walk. she could already see it — herself at the top of the met steps, cameras flashing, people gasping. she looked like a painting. like something out of a dream.

"what do you think?" the head stylist finally asked, rising from the floor and studying her reflection beside her.

aurora didn't answer right away. she tilted her head. narrowed her eyes.

and then: "i look like i'm about to get crowned queen."

"of england?" someone quipped from across the room.

"perhaps," aurora shot back, a smile playing on her lips.

her phone buzzed on the table, screen lighting up with a message from drew.

drew : you still at the fitting? i miss ur face

she grinned, already typing back.

 aurora : i miss you more. 

aurora : maybe i'll give you a sneak peek if you're lucky.

she hesitated for a second, then turned slightly and raised her phone for a mirror selfie. just the top half. just enough to tease — the sleek black bodice, a glimpse of the skirt behind her, her hair loosely pinned back and eyes glowing with something fierce and unspoken.

aurora : but only if you swear not to pass out when you see me in person.

she hit send.

behind her, another assistant fussed with the back of the gown. someone brought over a pair of silk gloves. her team was already discussing jewelry options — something vintage? something sharp? maybe pearls. maybe diamonds. maybe both.

"are you nervous?" her stylist asked.

aurora blinked. "honestly? no."

and she wasn't. not about the look. not about the night. not about the fact that her first met gala wasn't just a fashion moment — it was a moment moment. she'd be walking in as a star, as a performer, as a headline. and maybe — maybe — with drew on her arm.

they hadn't decided that part yet. but the thought made her heart stutter just a little.

she looked back in the mirror, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

she looked like everything she'd ever wanted to be.

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