1.1 | constellations of you and me ✓

11 | vela

"IF JONAH DOESN'T TAP THAT ASS, I WILL."

Her jaw drops as she turns to her slightly tipsy friends, a shocked sound escaping her mouth as she leans against the dresser and firmly crosses both arms. Chase grins devilishly at her and raises a dainty glass in return, swaying her hips to a resonating bassline from their neighbor's music and curling up next to Parker on the vanity cushion like a feline. The air in her bedroom holds a tinge of strawberry sweetness and lemon citrus from the candles lit in the corner, and she subtly checks her watch again. Fifteen minutes.

Eloise walks slowly over to the full-length mirror and scans her body for extra measures. The flowing, dark wine satin dress ends a couple of inches above her knees and her face holds a minimal amount of delicate makeup: sheer gloss applied on full lips, chromatic glittering highlighter dusted over both cheekbones, bold eyebrows trimmed and groomed. Normally wild curls are now sleek, straight locks that rest across the expanse of slender shoulders (the process nearly took three fucking hours). Simply put, her hair didn't inherit her mother's Asian genes. The girl staring back at Eloise in the mirror is oddly foreign, and there's an unusual glint of golden anticipation sparkling in her irises—she's happy.

"He's going to faint when he sees you," Rory gushes. She's a tentative new addition to their group (a sophomore that just transferred from Miami), but it's already feeling like a natural fit. Laying horizontally across Eloise's freshly-washed comforter, Rory grins up at her innocently. "You look stunning."

Eloise musters out a muffled thank you before Parker runs over and squeezes her so tight that she's afraid the dress will tear. "My baby's going on her first date," Parker cries out. She grabs a hold of the Korean girl's cheeks and squeezes gently. "If you need anything, don't be afraid to call. I'll keep my ringer on high, okay?"

She lets out a loose laugh and her chest warms at her friend's motherly concern. "Parker. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine—I promise."

"Well, you look too damn good to not go out," Chase justifies as her words start to slur. "I guess it'll be a shame if we keep you locked in this apartment, right?"

"Right." Rory clicks her tongue and flicks a piece of crimson hair over one shoulder. "Did he tell you where he's taking you?"

Eloise shakes her head. "No," she admits. Last night, she'd stayed awake thinking of this night, an entire jumble of mixed emotions. "I think it's supposed to be a surprise." Deep inside, her soul feels a little lighter at the thought of the upcoming evening, and she's glad she's spending it with Jonah. A little normality can't hurt her.

"When you come back, I expect a play-by-play." Chase tries to stand up, wobbles a bit on her feet, and Parker eventually pulls her back down on the seat as she rolls her eyes. Honest concern ripples across her countenance, and she's looking at Eloise like she'll fall apart at any given minute.

Eloise doesn't blame her. Her father has kept his promise of being completely, utterly silent, and while it's slowly easing her back down, painful pricks of dread poke at her mind. It's unnerving—unsettling.

Chase smiles softly. "You deserve this, El," she confesses sloppily. "More than anyone, you—you deserve this the most."

She doesn't reply to that—just walks over and curls up next to Rory on the bed. Chase and Parker soon follow, and the four of them lie side by side with the low baritones of jazz music thrumming through their bodies. The silence wraps around her heart like a silver shroud, all encompassing and surreal and strangely beautiful. They exchange half-secrets until the doorbell finally rings, and Eloise is up in an instant, heart racing dramatically with each passing second.