Isabella opened my closet like it was a treasure chest and started pulling out items with reckless abandon. "This... no. This... absolutely not. Oh, this could work!"

She held up a red bodycon dress, but I shook my head. "Too much."

She groaned, tossing it onto the bed. "Amber, you're killing me here. We need something that says, 'Look at me. I'm fabulous.'"

"Or we could go for something that says, 'I'm comfortable and practical,'" I countered, already eyeing my favorite jeans.

"Nope." She dove back into the closet and emerged with my black lace corset top and mini skirt. "This. Pair it with your sheer tights and heels, and you'll look amazing."

I took the outfit, sighing. "Fine, but I'm holding you responsible if I freeze to death."

As I disappeared into the bathroom to change, I heard Isabella rummaging through her own closet. "And what are you wearing?" I called out.

"Something iconic, of course," she replied. "I'm Blake's future girlfriend; I can't exactly show up in sweats."

When I came back out, Isabella was slipping into a pale blue satin top with a plunging neckline and pairing it with high-waisted black leather pants. Her blonde hair shimmered as she adjusted the straps. "What do you think?" she asked, doing a twirl.

"You look like you're about to star in a music video," I said with a laugh.

"Exactly what I was going for," she said, tossing me a wink. "Now, let's fix your hair."

Isabella sat me down in front of the desk, plugging in the curling iron with the determination of a stylist on a mission. "Your hair is gorgeous, Amber, but we're giving it a little extra flair."

"Do we have to?" I asked, running my fingers through my long black hair. "It's fine the way it is."

"It's more than fine, but tonight we're aiming for jaw-dropping." She handed me the curling iron. "I'll guide you, but you're doing the work."

After some trial and error—and one near-burn incident—my hair fell in soft, glossy waves that framed my face. It was simple, but the slight curl added a polished touch. "See?" Isabella said, fluffing my hair. "Effortless perfection."

"And what about your hair?" I asked, gesturing to her long blonde locks.

"I was born ready," she said with a grin, quickly twisting a few sections into loose curls. In five minutes, she looked like she'd stepped out of a magazine. Of course.

"Now for the fun part," Isabella announced, pulling out her arsenal of makeup.

"Define fun," I muttered as she sat me down and grabbed an eyeliner pencil.

"Hold still," she said, leaning in.

I tried, I really did, but when she got too close, I blinked, and the pencil left a streak across my cheek. "Oops."

"Amber!" she groaned, grabbing a makeup wipe. "You're impossible."

"Hey, I'm new to this," I defended, laughing as she wiped away the smudge.

By the time she was done, I had a soft smokey eye, fluttery lashes, and berry-toned lips. She studied me like an artist admiring her masterpiece. "Done. Now look."

I turned to the mirror and blinked. The subtle smokey eye made my almond-shaped eyes look even more defined, the dark liner adding a soft intensity that balanced perfectly with the shimmer of the eyeshadow. My lashes looked long and feathery, almost doll-like, and the berry lipstick complemented the natural warmth of my skin. "Wow," I said softly. "That's... different."

"Different in the best way," she corrected. "Now let me finish mine."

As she worked on her own makeup, I watched her transform. She went for shimmery gold eyeshadow, a sleek cat eye, and glossy nude lips. By the time she was done, she looked like the star of the night. "Okay, now we're both officially ready."

I slipped on my black heels and immediately wobbled, grabbing the desk for support. "Why do people willingly wear these?"

"Because they're fabulous," Isabella said, fastening a pair of sparkly earrings. She handed me a delicate silver necklace, which I reluctantly let her clasp around my neck. "Perfect. Now, perfume."

She spritzed a floral scent on both of us, and I couldn't help but smile. For all her over-the-top energy, Isabella really knew how to make a girl feel like a million bucks.

As we stood by the door, Isabella turned to me with a grin. "Amber, tonight is not just about the party. It's about you stepping out of your comfort zone and owning it."

"I don't think that's how it works," I said, laughing softly.

"Sure it is," she replied. "And remember, if Bryan starts being his usual annoying self, we ignore him. Or spill a drink on him. Your choice."

I smiled despite myself. "You're ridiculous."

"And you love me for it," she said, looping her arm through mine. "Now let's go show this party who's boss."

As we stepped into the night, I took a deep breath, letting the cool air settle my nerves. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad after all.

—--

The walk to the party wasn't long, but it felt like an eternity. The chilly night air nipped at my exposed skin, making me second-guess every decision that had led to me wearing a mini skirt and sheer tights in late autumn. Beside me, Isabella walked with an effortless confidence, her leather pants swishing softly with each step. She was in her element tonight, practically glowing with excitement.

"You're going to love this," she said, looping her arm through mine. Her perfume—sweet,like vanilla, and distinctly her—wafted over me as she leaned closer. "This isn't just any party, Amber. It's the party."

"That's what you said about the last one," I replied, adjusting the hem of my skirt for the hundredth time.

"Because I was right," she shot back, grinning. "But tonight's different. Victory parties have this energy, you know? Like, anything can happen."

"Anything, huh?" I muttered. My heels clicked against the pavement, their unfamiliar weight making me hyper aware of every step. I still wasn't convinced this was a good idea, but Isabella's excitement was contagious. Or maybe I just didn't want to disappoint her.

The faint thrum of music grew louder as we approached, the bassline vibrating through the quiet night. The apartment building loomed ahead, its exterior nondescript save for the occasional flicker of light spilling from a window. A group of students loitered near the entrance, clutching red cups and talking loudly, their laughter cutting through the cold.

"See?" Isabella said, gesturing to the scene with a flourish. "It's already alive."

"It's already loud," I countered, eyeing the crowd warily.

Isabella rolled her eyes and tugged me forward. "You'll survive. Just stick with me, and I promise you'll have fun."

We stepped inside, and the noise hit me like a wave. The apartment was packed, the living room crammed with people talking, laughing, and dancing to the beat of some pop song I vaguely recognized. The air was warm, almost stifling, filled with the smell of cheap beer, sugary punch, and someone's overly strong cologne. Strings of fairy lights zigzagged across the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the chaos.

I hesitated in the entryway, suddenly overwhelmed. Isabella, however, wasted no time. She peeled off her coat, revealing her satin top, which shimmered under the lights, and scanned the room with the precision of a hawk.

"There's Mia!" she said, her blue eyes lighting up as she spotted her near the kitchen. Even in the middle of the noise and commotion, Mia looked calm, her presence steady and somehow grounding.

"You're going to say hi, right?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Oh, absolutely," Isabella said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "You'll be okay on your own for two seconds?"

"Two seconds," I replied, holding up two fingers.

She laughed and headed off, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. I stayed near the door, trying to find a corner where I could breathe. My eyes darted around the room, taking in the scene—the makeshift dance floor in the living room, the table in the kitchen overflowing with snacks and drinks, the random clusters of people sprawled across the couches and leaning against the walls.

A couple bumped into me as they passed, too absorbed in their conversation to notice. I stepped back, my heels catching on the rug, and barely avoided falling into someone else. "Excuse me," I muttered, though no one seemed to hear.

The discomfort in my chest grew. I'd never been good at parties, especially ones this loud and chaotic. I missed the quiet, predictable atmosphere of my dorm. The music, the laughter, the clinking of cups—it was all too much.

"Get a drink," I muttered to myself, heading toward the kitchen. Not that I planned on drinking anything, but holding a soda would at least give me something to do with my hands.

The kitchen was just as packed as the rest of the apartment, though slightly less chaotic. The counters were lined with bottles and cups, and someone had set up a massive bowl of bright red punch that I decided to avoid at all costs. I grabbed a can of sparkling water from the fridge, the cool metal soothing against my palm, and leaned against the counter.

As I sipped my drink, I let myself observe. People laughed and danced, their energy contagious, even if I wasn't part of it. A girl in a sparkly top twirled in the living room, her friends cheering her on. Someone tried to start a game of beer pong in the corner, much to the annoyance of the people sitting on the couch nearby.

My gaze wandered back to the kitchen doorway, where Isabella stood talking to Blake. Her laugh carried over the noise, light and genuine, and I couldn't help but smile. She looked so comfortable, so at ease. Maybe I envied her for that—her ability to thrive in situations like this while I felt like I was counting down the minutes until I could leave.

But I was here. And I'd promised myself I'd try.

I took another sip of my drink, letting the carbonation fizz against my tongue, and reminded myself to breathe. Whatever happened tonight, I'd survive. And if I was lucky, I'd even have a little fun.

I stayed near the counter, sipping my sparkling water and doing my best to look like I belonged. The kitchen was busier now—people filtering in and out, grabbing drinks or leaning against the counter to chat. I caught snippets of conversations: someone complaining about a professor, another person bragging about their internship, and, inevitably, a debate about which team had the best shot at the national championships.

Isabella passed by the doorway with Blake in tow, her laugh trailing behind them. They looked like something out of a movie—her glowing with effortless charm, him calm and steady as always. She gave me a quick wave before disappearing into the living room, and I couldn't help but smile. At least one of us was thriving tonight.

"Hey, you're not drinking that punch, are you?" a voice said, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I turned to see a girl with bright pink hair and a nose ring standing beside me. She had a bottle of water in one hand and gestured toward the punch bowl with the other. "That stuff's lethal. Someone spiked it with something awful. Stick to the fridge."

"I'll take your word for it," I said, holding up my sparkling water.

"Smart choice," she said with a grin. "I'm Jane, by the way."

"Amber," I replied, glad for the distraction. "Nice to meet you."

Jane leaned against the counter, her bottle dangling from her fingers. "First time at a victory party?"

"Is it that obvious?" I asked, laughing softly.

"A little," she admitted. "You have that 'what am I doing here' vibe. Don't worry, though. Everyone feels like that at their first one. Just find someone to talk to, and it gets easier."

I nodded, appreciating her advice, though I wasn't sure how to follow it. "What about you? Are you part of the team's fan club?"

She snorted. "Hardly. My roommate dragged me here. Said I needed to 'get out more.'"

I smiled. "Same."

We chatted for a few more minutes before Jane was pulled away by someone who recognized her from a class. I was left alone again,

I wandered out of the kitchen, weaving through the crowd as I explored the rest of the apartment. The living room was still the epicenter of chaos—people dancing, shouting, and occasionally tripping over the coffee table. A guy near the corner tried to show off a handstand but collapsed onto the couch in a fit of laughter.

I lingered near the wall, content to watch. There was something fascinating about the energy of a party—the way it seemed to pulse and shift, drawing people together. Even though I wasn't part of it, I could feel its pull.

A girl in a glittery dress bumped into me, apologizing with a giggle before being swept away by her friends. I stepped further into the shadows, not wanting to get caught up in whatever wild idea they were planning.

"Amber! There you are!"

I turned to see Isabella making her way toward me, a drink in one hand and a satisfied smile on her face. "Why are you hiding over here? Come on, the dance floor is calling!"

"I'm good," I said quickly, holding up my drink as an excuse. "Just... enjoying the atmosphere."

Isabella narrowed her eyes at me, clearly not buying it. "Atmosphere, huh? You've been avoiding it all night. Come on, loosen up a little."

"Izzy, I'm not exactly a dance-floor kind of person."

"Everyone's a dance-floor person when the right song comes on," she said, grabbing my wrist. "Just one dance. If you hate it, you can go back to standing in corners."

I hesitated but finally let her drag me toward the living room. The music changed to something more upbeat, and the crowd cheered as people flooded the makeshift dance floor. Isabella pulled me into the fray, her energy infectious as she swayed to the rhythm.

At first, I felt awkward, my movements stiff and unsure. But as the beat pulsed through the room and the people around me danced with carefree abandon, I found myself relaxing. Isabella grinned at me, twirling dramatically before grabbing Blake's hand and pulling him into the mix. I laughed, shaking my head at her antics, and let myself move to the music.

It wasn't so bad. For a few minutes, I even forgot about my usual self-consciousness. The crowd, the music, the lights—it all blurred together, creating a strange, intoxicating sense of freedom.

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💌 Thank You for Reading Chapter Nineteen! 💌

I can't thank you enough for sticking with The Bad Boy's Ballerina and joining me on this journey. Your support, comments, and excitement make every moment of writing this story so rewarding.

We're getting closer to the heart of the story, and I'm beyond grateful to have you here for every chapter. Stay tuned for more, and as always, thank you for being part of this adventure.

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