CONTRADICTED STARS || L. PARTRIDGE [1 | EDITING]

19. Skin A Rat Alive

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS AGO, IT SEEMED LIKE A GOOD IDEA.

Now Cabrera only doubted it as she stared at herself in the mirror like some chick-flick girl in a cheesy chick-flick movie. She turned around to have an outside the box perspective of how she'd look like from the back. Upon doing so, she let out a sharp exhale.

"At least the dress provided a decent arse view," she mumbled to herself.

With a ring from her phone, she stretched an arm out and took it from the table, accepting an incoming call from Louis. Before he could say anything, she instantly murmured at the object, "I don't think I can go to the party."

"What?"

"I just can't do it, okay?"

"For what reason?"

Her eyes darted around the room as she sighed, desperately looking for an object to be her reason. However, her time was running out in a split second as she heard Louis' suspicious sigh. "My plants died!" She exclaimed.

"You're . . . missing a party for a dead plant?"

"I'm down-to-earth, okay?"

"You're the most cruel girl I've ever met. How are you down-to-earth? God, Cabrera, everyone's expecting you there. Don't tell me you can't go to the party because you're walking your grass?"

"Why do I have to attend the party? As much as I would love to hang around and mingle, I'd rather not risk myself being poked fun at."

"You're the birthday girl. Crawford would be pissed to know you just ignored his efforts. Plus, you can take this as your first lesson of how to deal with the public."

"I'm ready for the lesson, but not in my fucking outfit. I look like a total rat!"

"Then, I look like Linguini!"

"Where are you?"

As she asked that, a knock on the door caught her attention.

"Outside your flat," Louis answered. The girl ended the call and opened the door. He turned up, looking as typical to his style as ever, black jacket and beige pants. Effortless, yet so . . . charming.

Cabrera felt her stomach flip at the contradiction to her look. She wore a black bodycon with white long sleeves underneath, keeping it simple with her white socks and black platform shoes, her hair tied in two braids. Her fingers pressed against her sleeves, staring at the boy who stared back a moment longer.

"You are . . ." Louis started, trying to find the words that would fit.

Before he could, however, she'd already grabbed a hold of his shoulders as his eyes gaped in surprise. "Be honest. Is it too simple? Does it not fit the theme? Does it suit me? I'm restless! I don't know if I made the right choice—"

"Relax, Cabrera! It's," he took another glance, his lashes fluttering as he did so, "You're just . . . absolutely gorgeous." As if catching himself, he cleared his throat and shifted in his place with a mumble, "You look well-dressed for the party, if you ask me."

Her heart did a funny flip again, but this time it wasn't due to her anxiety—it was more from what the boy had just uttered. She beamed, taking a breath of joy, "You think so? Do you think the others would find it the same case as you?"