*Amanda’s POV*

“Okay, so Amanda how is it going to go down tonight, with Neal?” Mabel asked me, as she sat on Elizabeth’s bedroom floor applying her make up, with her nails painted a deep blue colour and part of her hair up in a high ponytail, with large curls escaping from it and some loose ones hanging from the side.

It was a couple of hours before the Masquerade Ball, and the girls and I were getting dressed together, before having to go out and pick up our dates. We had just come back from the salon, after getting our hair and nails done.

“Oh, I really don’t know. I don’t think anything will happen. He is still pretty mad at me. Just going to take it slow.” I sighed, as I carefully did my eyeliner.

“Are you serious? No, after tonight, seeing you looking like a queen, he wouldn’t be able to resist.” Ally demanded.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,” Mabel says.

“Well, maybe they should take it slow, just in case,” Elizabeth suggested.

“No, Neal wouldn’t be able to.” Ally insists.

“How are you so sure?” Elizabeth asked. “I mean sure, Amanda will look like a doll, but the boy was really hurt.”

“Okay, but nothing really happened. Amanda didn’t cheat on him.” Ally demanded.

“But she said she did. She confessed.” Elizabeth insisted.

“Okay, but how are you going to play a best friend?” Ally intruded.

“You’re joking right. I’m not giving her false hope.” Elizabeth shrugged, going back to her applying her black eyeshadow.

“Are you two just going to act like she isn’t here?” June quickly added before Ally could say anything else. “We don’t know what’s going to happen with them tonight. All we know is they’re going to have a good night. Alright? Neal promised her that.”

“Actually, he promised her a night, not a good night.” Elizabeth corrected.

“Okay, don’t be such a bummer.” June shot at Elizabeth.

“You alright, Liz?” Mabel asked concerned, “Never seen you be such a bumper before.”

“Yeah, I’m fine, sorry,” Elizabeth says, shaking her head, apologetically.

“No, no. What’s wrong?” I insisted, noticing something off about her too.

“It’s just –“ She started but cut herself off, “It’s just, Destiny should be here with us, you know. Doesn’t feel right.”

Everyone went silent, realising how much more fun we’d be having with her around.

“Well, its no use crying over the things we can no longer have, is there?” June sighed, giving a half-assed smile.

“Yeah.” Elizabeth nodded, returning the fake smile. The room went silent, as we continued applying our makeup.

“Do you think we should’ve invited Bella?” Mabel asked.

“No. All she is to us is Harry’s girlfriend. We have no obligation to get to know her.” June explained.

“Yeah, I agree with her. Besides, Harry never got to know us. You know what I mean. We really aren’t that close to him, if you think about it.” Elizabeth added.

Everything went quite again. The air was filled with an awkward silence, until Elizabeth’s father walked past her room, erupting a large noise from his behind, filling the hallway, and a little bit of Elizabeth’s room with a horrendous smell. Immediately everyone burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Don’t laugh! It’s my natural perfume!” Mr Maxwell yells at us from the hallway, causing us to laugh even more.

*Bella’s POV*

Okay, I’m cheating … I am, but I’m not. It’s just not possible. I’m not a cheater.

Harry’s amazing, he really is. Plus, why am I so paranoid about this. He is going to this dance with another girl, as well. I mean the whole the school is.

I’m not cheating …

Not technically, at least.

I slip into my white and silver bikini and white crochet cover-up, I secretly want to tease Dared to madness.

Dared … I mean I know I said, Maxwell … but to be honest, I don’t know who Maxwell is, but neither did my ‘friends’, especially not Harry, for that matter.

Dared, on the other hand, I almost know too well, probably because he is my ex-boyfriend.

Now. Now. Before you start attacking me, as I said before, I’m not cheating. Everyone’s doing it.

I mean, for all I know the girl Harry said yes to, might be some girl he slept with before … before Destiny. You know what still boggles me, what the hell happened between the two of them? It’s not like they dated, I mean the person each of the described as their current ex-s sounded nothing like one another.

But yeah, yeah, off topic. Again, to the fact, I am not cheating. This isn't (technically) classified as cheating. And I know I lied about the name, but it was in the spurs of the moment, I don’t know why I lied … I just did.

I brushed my hair smooth, pulling some to the front, draping it over my chest. Running my comb through my bangs so they looked just perfect, I admired myself in my vanity mirror. My eyeliner was perfect, sharp enough to cut a bitch. My lashes, longer than any bitch’s man. My nude coloured lips pouted without effort. Dared was bound to die to kiss them.

… which I won’t let him, of course. Then, I mean, then that would be cheating … or would it really?

I mean, people kiss when they’re on dates, it's only natural if we do. Harry shouldn’t get angry. He’ll understand. I bet he’ll do it too.

I ran my perfectly painted nude nails, through my shiny hair, before gently touching the sides of my neck. I traced the outline of my cleavage, before running my hands down my body.

Dared couldn’t resist. End of story.

*Owen’s POV*

The mirror cheap, but large, it had greasy fingerprints covering the shiny surface. Quickly grabbing the nearest dirty rag, I wiped down the surface in an attempt to get rid of them.

I stared at the reflection before me, straightened out my white tux, and tired to fix up my hair.

“Where are you going all dressed up like that?” I heard a raspy voice say from my doorway. I jumped a bit at the sound; I hadn’t been expecting anyone.

“Oh, uhm, Destiny’s. I’m going to pick her up and then take her to the dance.”

“You’ve been seeing her quite a lot lately, haven’t you?” Dad says, in his old work clothes, leaning against the door frame.

“Uh, yes sir,” I say, shyly, not wanting to make him mad.

“When you leaving?” He asks.

“Right now, actually,” I say.

“I want you to bring her over one day, and have dinner with us.” He says, surprising me.

“What?” I asked, in the state of shock.

“You heard me, boy. Don’t play stupid with me.” He demands, angrily, but surprisingly he recovers quickly. “Wait here.” And with that, he disappeared into his own bedroom.

“What the hell is happening?” I say to myself, quietly.

“Okay, here put this on. You stink. How are you going to impress anyone, smelling like that?” My dad says, once again putting me in a state of shock as he sprays on a bunch of cologne on me. “Good, you smell fine now. Get out, and be a gentleman. Remember to ask her to come over one night.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, with a smile. Before leaving my room, I turn back to my dad and smiled at him, “See you soon, Father.” And with that, I grabbed my coat, and I was out.

*Harry’s POV*

Wet and crisp as I bit into it, the apple broke between my teeth with a soft crunch. The lingering sound drifted around my ears, filling my heart with pleasure. Icy sweetness filled my mouth, and for a moment, all fell still, as if a wave of content had drifted past and froze the world solid. I kept on chewing, biting until it was all gone. I really don’t understand why I don’t have apples more often; they’re actually really soothing.

I sank into the gold-brown armchair I was sitting in, relieved to feel the soft fabric and no more weight on my feet. I let my head loll back and pull my eyes to a close. In only a few minutes the fabric was warm, homely. But of course, it took my mother all about five minutes to ruin the serene place I had put myself in.

“Harry! Aren’t you going to get dressed for the Ball? You only have an hour left! Oh, my goodness. Come here; I have a nice suit for you.” Mom cried out, after seeing me all snuggled in the armchair.

“Urgh,” I whined, dragging myself out of the chair. I wasn’t all too excited. First of all, masquerades are dumb as it is. How are you going to know who anyone is? And then the whole girls ask boys. What’s that about? Like girls don’t already ask guys out normally. To top it all off, we have to mingle? That’s just dumb. I can’t believe people are actually going for it.

Now my girlfriends with some other dude, and I’m stuck with a last-minute girl. I swear if this were the beginning of last year, there would be tons of girls just lining up to get with me. What happened? I swear to god it's all Destiny’s fault. She is just, such a pain. I hate it. I hate her. I could never love her again. Never.

“Here, darling. Put this on.” Mom says, holding out the suit for me.

“Don’t you think this is a little too much?” I asked, “It’s not like I am really trying to impress this girl.”

“Trust me. You’ll end up wanting to impress someone tonight. It’s the Masquerade Ball. Everyone will be overly dressed, trust me.” Mom insisted.

“But-“

“Do you trust your mother or not?”

“Fine.” I sighed, getting played the ‘mom’ card for the 100th time in my life.

“Good boy. Now get dressed, you have less than 40 minutes before Carly comes to pick you up.” Mom reminded me.

*Destiny’s POV*

The looking glass that I stare into is wall-mounted; encircled by a frame of thread-like strands of silver, interlaced together in a mock-liana arrangement.

I watched the lines and drawings on my face. I managed to cake my face decently, with all the drug-store makeup I owned. I painted my lids with glittery gold, creating a deep cut-crease effect. My lips were dressed in a bright red colour, matching my royal red nails. I managed, after several tries, to put my chocolate coloured hair in a perfect high bun, with the right amount of loose strands outlining the sides of my face.

I walked over to my closet and slipped on my red wine coloured platform block heels. Then, carefully I pulled on the red wine, jewelled ball gown, which my mom had given to me, over my black-laced bra and panties.

Walking back to the mirror, I gazed at my reflection. Fo r once, in a blue moon, I saw what everyone else saw. A pretty girl: slim, beautiful, lovely. I felt pretty, I thought to myself, with a small smile.

“Oh my god,” I hear someone say from my bedroom doorway, it was my father.

“Dad!” I say, realising I had forgotten to lock the door.

“You look so beautiful. My god. That’s my daughter.” My dad says, tears forming in his eyes, as he looked me up and down.

“Daddy,” I say, tears forming in my eyes as well. “I love you,” I say, reaching for a hug from him.

“I love you too,” Dad says, smiling at me brightly, “By the way, Owen’s here.”

“Oh! Tell him to come up here; I’m almost done.” I say, rushing back to my dresser to find the jewellery I wanted to put on.

“Woah! Why aren’t you my date tonight?” Owen exclaims as he enters my room, just as I was putting on my golden modern disk statement earrings.

“Oh, shut up,” I giggled, throwing my pillow at him.

“Seriously, though, you look absolutely gorgeous,” Owen says, gazing at me, as I stuck the golden hairpin into my hair bun.

“Thank you.” I smiled at him. “You look absolutely dashing yourself, Owen,” I say, admiring his snow-white tux, on top of his jet-black dress shirt, with a matching bowtie and dress shoes. Owen had slipped on a whole lot of cologne too. “Jeez, Owen! That’s a lot of cologne!” I say as I slipped on the gold-toned watch and bracelet on my wrist.

“Well, I want to smell good alright. Plus, by the time we get there, half of the smell will rub off.” Owen says, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Here help me put this on,” I say to him, dropping my gold rose necklace in his palm, before turning around.

Owen wrapped the necklace around my neck and began working on the lock. “You have your mask, right?”

“Oh! Definitely, it’s this cute Venetian red mask, with black metal laser cut and crystals on the eyes.” I exclaimed, cheerfully. I rushed to my dresser drawer and pulled out the mask to show him. “Show me yours!”

“Okay, okay!” Owen says, before pulling out the mask. “Here we have a beautiful Venetian mask, dressed with a jet-black covering, and elegant silver colours around the eye. We see fine little details outline the silver patched of colour and the eye hole.” Owen says, showcasing his mask.

I giggled at his advertising skills. “It's beautiful!” I cheered him on.

“Oh! Guess what?” Owen says, happily, as he leaned against my wall, as I retrieved my red coat.

“What?” I asked, connecting the buttons.

“My dad invited you to dinner at our place,” Owen says.

“What! Are you serious?” I asked, stunned. I have never heard anything about Mr Stiller that was anything short of hate from this boy’s mouth.

“Yeah, I’m just as shook.” Owen nodded.

“Oh my gosh! This is amazing! Oh! When is it?” I asked, excitingly.

“No clue. Anytime you want.” Owen says.

“Oh! How about Saturday, or Sunday night? Can I bring my parents as well?” I asked, happily. I was overly excited for this; maybe if I made a good impression on Mr Stiller, I could help Owen.

“I’ll talk with my father, and we’ll see.” Owen chuckled, before realising what he had just said. “Jesus Christ. Never thought I’d ever say that." I giggled at his comments, and I brushed down my dress and coat.

“Oh, kids! Stop right there. I have to get some pictures of you two beauties.” Mom squealed, as she rushed into my room with her camera.

“Okay, okay. Let’s get out of here. We still gotta pick up Adam and Bradley.” Owen says after mom took nearly a billion of photos.

“Alright let’s go!” I say, happily.

Notes