"Fuck off, Lasker," Stacey said, shrugging the boy off. "Why don't you go bother someone else?"
"You know you love me, Stacey," Chad replied with a smirk. Such exchanges were common during freshman and sophomore year of uni after Chad took an interest in the opinionated dark-haired freshman whom he had never really paid attention to.
During middle school, Darrien Darner was the boy on Stacey's mind. Darrien Darner was the bad boy that everyone wanted to tie down and call their own. Rude and crass, the boy had more detentions that you can count with all your fingers and toes, but at the end of sophomore year in high school Stacey finally caught and held his interest. The two were "dating" by the start of junior year, and they were inseparable even though their relationship was built primarily off sweet, empty compliments and fantastic, hollow promises.
Their very dramatic and very public breakup during senior year was no surprise, although we were all impressed Stacey managed to hold onto him for so long.
"There are better girls—prettier and skinnier girls who are less clingy and more willing to give me what I want," Darrien had told her one lunch, the courtyard his stage and the school his audience. "And I never liked you anyway."
"Picking on girls nowadays, Darner?" Chad had shouted at the dark-haired boy as tears streamed silently down Stacey's face.
"Wouldn't want to mess up your pretty face, Lasker," Darrien had retorted before storming off. "And Stacey, wipe your face off—you look like a melting raccoon."
His words changed Stacey. No longer did she inquire about how romantic boys were—it was always "Was the sex good?" Or "Is he hot?" She didn't pine for true love anymore either. All middle school girls did in one way or another, for we were all so innocent, so inexperienced.
"Prince Charming?" Stacey would say scathingly as we talked flippantly after a princess movie. "He can go to hell if he's not good in bed."
It was precisely this phrase that represented Chad and Stacey's relationship in the early stages. Stacey wasn't the least bit tied to the "Prince Charming" that saved her from the "Darn Dragon" in the beginning, citing that he must have a small penis since he was rejected by me. After numerous admonishments and denials, she ended up hooking up with him because she "wanted to take his hot bod out for a spin."
Needless to say their official relationship didn't begin until late into sophomore year of college when Stacey finally allowed another male into her walls. Despite their harsh words at times, it's clear that they loved each other on some level. After Chad found Stacey, he slept around significantly less; Stacey no longer frequented parties and clubs for one-night stands, not that she'd ever admit it. I think despite all her nonchalance about their relationship, Chad really has won her over—even if just subconsciously.
"You're beautiful," he'd whisper to her sometimes, when he thought no one was listening.
"Am I?" I'd hear her whisper before I could fully exit the room, but the answer was always constant, unchanging:
"You are to me."
---
"Remind me again why we shouldn't bring the boys?" Stacey said, frowning as she flipped through her following on her phone.
"Because they'll hold us up," Karen said simply, rolling her eyes as she polished off her breakfast bagel. The girls had gathered at Quinn's flat to discuss what we should do for the day, which was determined to be shopping.
"I agree," Whitney said, flipping through a magazine. "Quinn, where do you find these magazines?"
"I think they're quite interesting," Quinn defended, a tinge of pink appearing on her cheeks. Her subscriptions went to articles following designers and style trends, which matched with her interest but was easily lost on most people.
"Oh! No, I think they're wonderful!" Whitney said, looking up and smiling sheepishly. "You wouldn't mind if I take down some magazines and subscribe to them as well, would you?"
"Of course not!" Quinn said, smiling. "What are friends for if not to recommend things?"
"To help decide who to bring on a shopping trip," Stacey said, bringing us back to the subject on hand. "I maintain that we need a male opinion on the subject."
"And I think that bringing the boys will be a waste of time," Karen retorted staunchly.
"Why don't we just have the boys come over after we do the shopping?" Whitney suggested.
"That's a good idea," I agreed.
"We can even have a fashion show! My mom has a studio nearby!" Quinn said excitedly. "I have keys."
"I'm in," Karen said, looking pointedly at Stacey who snorted in response.
"Who am I to turn down a chance to go on the catwalk?" she asked, putting down her phone. "Now, onto the more important question: are we bringing Kimberly Morgan?"
Eyes shot to me, and I raised my hands in surrender.
"I have nothing against it—shopping trips, the more the merrier, right?" I asked. I was torn, half-wanting them to agree and not discuss the issue and half-wanting them to push to keep Kimberly out of all activities with the clique, but Calum had asked my after the party to seriously consider "adding Kim to the text chain," as he so aptly put it. "Do any of you have anything against her?" I asked.
"Um, my best friend's love life?" Stacey asked, rolling her eyes.
"I don't know," Quinn said, looking at Karen who had pursed her lips in thought. "Wouldn't it be awkward to just suddenly include her in everything?"
"I actually think we should give Kimberly a chance," Karen started, eyes meeting mine. "Maybe—"
"Maybe we should just straight up tell her that she can have Calum," Stacey snapped.
"I'm just saying! Look—maybe we'll get blackmail or something,' Karen joked as we laughed along, diffusing the tension. She and Stacey had always been the ones to bicker since she was ever-composed and mature and Stacey forever-wild and immature. It was almost an accepted fact that we were to overlook their little skirmishes, mostly because they would always make up afterwards, but also because we didn't want to break up the tightly-knit bonds we had built up over the years.
"I also think we should give her a chance," Whitney added softly. "Maybe she'll be different than what we expect."
"Let's bring her this time," I suggested, eyes trained on Stacey, willing her to understand that Calum had asked. "A trial run."
"You said it," she said, shrugging and checking her phone again. Her quick acceptance of her loss surprised me since Stacey loved to have the last word during arguments. Something good must have happened—a sudden rise in followers?
---
"Karen! Over here!" Quinn shouted, waving at the approaching trio. We were taking a lunch break a nearby parisian-inspired bistro after shopping for a few hours straight. Karen, Whitney, and Kimberly had split from Quinn, Stacey and me since we favored different brands. Stacey had wanted to buy a watch for Chad in case she didn't think of a gift in time for Valentine's Day, and Kimberly needed a tour that Karen was best able to provide since she liked to pop into as many outlets as possible.
"You three are really late," I commented as they sat down, setting their bags down nearby. "What was the holdup?"
"We were making Kimberly try on dresses, but she didn't like any of them," Karen said, frowning.
"I really didn't!" Kimberly defended, and Stacey coughed to hide a laugh. I shot Stacey a look that told her to back off, but it was clear that the real reason was because Kimberly didn't have the spare money to buy many designer pieces,
"She only bought three," Quinn counted, looking through their bags. "Love the shoes, Karen."
"Thanks! They were just released last Tuesday," Karen said, winking at her before placing the orders.
"I know," Quinn said with a grin, shuffling through Whitney's bags as well.
"How did you know?" Kimberly asked. Quinn gave her blank look, momentarily confused, before realizing what she'd meant.
"Oh, my mother owns the brand," she said, brandishing the elegantly-designed shoebox. "Elaine Maynard, the famous designer?"
"Oh," Kimberly repeated, blushing. "Of course."
"So," I started, changing the subject, "how are you and Gatly, Whitney?"
"Good?" Whitney asked with a shrug. "How do you describe a comfortable silence?"
"Love," Quinn inserted with a grin. "Have you two..."
"Quinn! I'm eating!" Karen said with a roll of her eyes.
"Have you two?" Stacey asked again, phone down at last.
"No," Whitney admitted with a blush.
"'Made it official?'" Kimberly echoed.
"It's a nice way of asking whether or not they've fu-"
"Whether or not the couple has consummated their relationship," I interrupted Stacey, shooting her another look. She met my eyes with a grin, shrugging.
"Consuma—Oh," Kimberly said, blushing with understanding. "Is that necessary?"
"You have to lay your claim," Quinn said, signing the check and sending it off with the waiter.
"No claim, no fame," Stacey piped up before snapping a selfie.
"That's not a saying, Stace," Karen commented with a burp. "'scuse me, most unladylike."
"Now it is, Stacey said, grinning at Kimberly. "Second thoughts now Kim? It's okay—I'm a mean lingerie shopper."
"I—Um," Kimberly stuttered, blushing furiously as the table dissolved into giggles.
"It's fine Kimberly," Quinn said reassuringly, patting Kimberly's back. "Just know that Calum's not the nice guy on the block like you assume."
And such was true. Calum had never made them official—not that he would, by the looks of it. He had come to my suite only two days ago and he'd kissed me with the same ferocity he always had, and I was reassured. Kimberly was a fling. She wasn't competition.
---
"I still think that Kimberly should be the highlight of our show," Stacey said, shifting through the clothing racks. "She's new and only has one outfit altogether."
"Please no," Kimberly said quickly, thumbing absentmindedly over the shoe collection in the studio. " I'm fine, really."
"Don't knock them over please!" Quinn called as Kimberly hurriedly straightened a shoe. "And it's a matter of being the 'star' of the show, Kimberly."
"It's okay—we'll teach you to catwalk," I reassured her, trying to piece together an outfit in the mirror. Was the belt too much for the busy black-and-white patterns on the dress?
"They're here!" Whitney informed us, popping her head into the closet.
"Karen, come here and let me do your hair," Quinn ordered as Whitney left again to let the boys in. "Kimberly, the black stilettos are fine—no to the right—no—those."
"Are we changing here?" Kimberly gaped as Stacey slid off her shirt, bra in sight.
"Just focus overhead," Stacey said, rolling her eyes as she stepped out of her skirt.
"Hold still, Karen," Quinn snapped, bobby pins in mouth and hand as she attacked Karen's dirty blonde hair.
"I'll go set up the stage," I offered, turning around so that Quinn could approve my choice.
"It's fine," Quinn said, fishtail-braiding Karen's hair that she tied up so often. "Doesn't conflict with your french braid."
"Tell the boys to be patient," Stacey added as I left, her phone out. "I need more time."
"I will," I called back, closing the door to the changing rooms and walking to the control panel in the back. Hunter and Tim were chatting in the audience as I walked past, and Jordan was on his phone.
"Stella!" Jordan exclaimed, rising. "Where're you going?"
"The green room," I replied, pausing. "Er—Tim, could I get your help with the controls? I just realized I don't really know how to work them..."
"Sure," Tim said, getting up as well.
"Aw, you don't want me?" Jordan teased, sliding back into his seat.
"Keep Hunter company," I told him. "You don't want to keep on waiting, do you?"
"No ma'am," Hunter said. I rolled my eyes, muttering 'boys' under my breath.
"I wish I could defend them," Tim started, grinning broadly.
"But you're smarter than that, Sorenson," I finished, returning the smile. The green room, as predicted, was comprised of a control panel with many buttons and few words.
"I've got it," Tim said, hands roaming the board. Music beat out of the speakers and lights moved to illuminate the runway.
"Thanks so much, Tim," I said gratefully. "I'll head backstage and get this started."
"No problem," he replied. Exiting the green room, I heard the raucous sound of Chad and Stacey's 'conversations'.
"Let's get on with it ladies!" Chad shouted, Calum chuckling beside him.
"Shut it, Lasker!" Stacey's voice shouted back from behind the stage. "Have some goddamn patience!"
"Drinks are in the minibar," Quinn's voice shouted, inciting a wave of murmurs and shuffling. Boys—it's alcohol and women that get them the most excited.
I rounded the corner and opened the door to the changing room where Quinn was hard at work on Kimberly's hair with a hair curler. Karen, Whitney, and Stacey's hair were done and Kimberly's voluminous curls were almost there.
"Just one sec—ahah!" Quinn proclaimed as she brandished her hair curler like a wand. "I dub thee perfect! Glamorous! Wonderful!"
"We ready to start?" I asked.
"Yep!" Quinn said, grinning.
"Um, Quinn, your hair?" Whitney asked. Quinn's eyes widened with realization as she groaned.
"We can wait," Karen said with a smile. "It's the least anyone can do after you opened up the studio, dressed us up, and offered the boys alcohol."
"You know what Quinn," I said, taking the hair curler from her and untying her usual bun. "You look fine."
"I agree," Stacey said, quickly amending herself. "Quinn, you look gorgeous the way you are and any boy who thinks he's fu—"
"Okay!" Karen said, interrupting Stacey's rant. "Let's get this party started! I'll be the sacrifice with my Jimmy Choos and Louis Vuitton since Morgan over there is clearly too nervous to kick this thing off."
"I just—I'm nervous," Kimberly admitted, blushing. "I'm not really used to being the center of attention."
"Okay Ms. Future-Prez, you're best chance is to start now," Quinn said, patting her shoulder reassuringly. "It's okay—we don't bite. The boys might, but we'll kick the one who does for you."
"See you all on the other side," Karen joked, stepping out onto the stage. Cheers and wolf-whistles erupted as Karen strutted the runway from the flatscreen on the wall.
"Karen needs to wear more scandalous clothing," Stacey commented, scrolling through her phone. "Also, Kimberly—would it be too much to ask you to try on the lingerie before I give it to you?"
"I—What—Um—" Kimberly stuttered, beet-red as we laughed.
"Well, I'm next," Whitney said, taking a deep breath. "Wish me luck!"
"You don't suppose she'd actually try them on?" Stacey whispered to me, nodding at Kimberly who was engrossed in the flatscreen.
"Stacey—we're talking about the brunette with the V-card, right?" I asked, following Kimberly's eyes to a blonde-haired boy in the crowd.
"That's the one," Stacey said. "Let's hope she loses that card soon."
---
Author's Note:
Hey everyone! How's it going? New update about Stella's oh-so-glamorous life and such.
Thoughts, comments? Updates every Tuesday!
Littlewhims