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Hey everyone! Make sure to read the Prologue to find out what happened on the pink carpet, it's important for Chapter 1. Also, I uploaded Chapter 1 in two parts, so don't miss part 2! It's so exciting to see all your comments and votes, thank you, I read all of them!


Pia Mia


Two hours before the pink carpet...

The final rays of sunlight sting my eyes as I pose against the wall of the balcony for Maya. Behind us, the shimmering ocean rolls in over the California sand, and I close my eyes and tilt my chin up to breathe in the air that reminds me of home.

"Perfect! Hold that pose!" Maya instructs.

Valerie's pouring drinks for us all inside, and I hear the clink of ice hitting glass right as the phone camera snaps another shot. There's still a half hour left until the car—sorry, limo—arrives to sweep us off to Hollywood for tonight's event. I asked for some alone time with my girls before the big night out. It's protocol. There's something about hearing our laughter as the waves crash against the shore that makes it easy to remember there's a wide-open world of possibility out there, and we're lucky to have found ourselves living in this reality. And, sure, pregaming in an oceanfront Malibu beach house was half the reason I rented this place for my release weekend anyway.

"Hot!" Maya hypes me up with a little dance as she steps forward. "Seriously, this Chanel dress was made for golden hour."

"This dress was made for me," I say proudly, catching my reflection in the sliding glass doors as I walk over to see the photo. Each tiny pink crystal glints white as I move, highlighting my petite curves and sun-kissed tan.

"See? Uh-mazing." Maya taps to zoom in on the image. She just walked at Paris Fashion Week, so now she's a big name in the modelling world. With her experience, she always gets the best angles. "Shit, they should hire me to work behind the camera too."

"Maybe we should hire you to be our personal Instagram photographer," I tease.

"As if! This is Maya Brown—honey, people should be taking pictures of her." Valerie laughs as she steps out onto the balcony too and hands each of us a drink.

"Oh, fuck, you have your own custom ice cubes?" Maya dips a red-painted stiletto nail into the glass to tilt the huge block of ice with a "Princess" logo etched into it.

"Duh. Is there any other way to drink Don Julio Real than on the rocks—correction, a custom-made rock?"

"We're Hollywood royalty after all," Val adds as she snaps a Boomerang of her drink. "Anyway, can we take some more photos? We've got a whole-ass Malibu beach house here! I need this shit on Instagram."

A few minutes later, when we walk back into the house, our stylists are just leaving. When my makeup artist Angel catches sight of us, his eyes pop with a huge smile.

"Wow! You guys look so good!"

"Couldn't have done it without your help," I remind him, and he swats the compliment away with a laugh.

"Are you bringing dates tonight?"

"No way—"

"Hell, no—"

"No, thank you."

Valerie, Maya, and I scrunch our noses up at each other as we answer in sync. Then, at Angel's stunned expression, we burst out laughing.

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