Chapter 50 50- Do Not Compliment His Hoard Unless You’re Ready To Be Compared To It
LEXI
The first thought I have is, Blake was right. My dress is white. But white feels like far too simple a word for it. It is white, technically, but the colour shifts as the light touches it, catching in a way that makes it look almost pearlescent. Soft. Luminous. Like it’s holding light rather than reflecting it. The fabric looks impossibly light, and when I pull it out of the closet it barely seems to have weight at all, drifting rather than falling, like it’s floating for me on purpose. There are no sleeves, and it fastens at the neck, a halter style, leaving my shoulders bare. The cut itself is simple, elegant, not trying too hard. But the fabric is everything. It flows in gentle layers, shimmering faintly with every movement, like moonlight over water. I just stand there for a second, holding it, a little stunned.
“I am in love with your choice.” I tell the Academy honestly. The lights flicker, just slightly.
“Seriously. It’s perfect.” I add, smiling to myself. I lay the dress carefully across my bed, smoothing it out with my hands, reverent despite myself, then turn back to the closet to look for shoes. There’s a pair of heels waiting for me. They’re low, with a solid block heel that looks sturdy enough to actually walk in, or dance in, which I appreciate more than I probably should. They’re gold, with straps that lace halfway up my leg, offering both support and a delicate, intentional look. There isn’t any other gold in the outfit. Which means they’re meant to match the jewellery. I pause, considering that. Of course the Academy thought of that too. I shake my head, amused.
“Where do these clothes even come from?” I ask aloud.
“Do you make them? Buy them? Is there some kind of giant master closet hidden somewhere that I don’t know about?” I ask. The idea makes me grin.
“If there is, I want to see it.” I add thoughtfully. No answer this time, but I’ll take that as a maybe. For now, though, I’m too eager to see the full effect. I step carefully into the dress and tug it up, struggling for a moment with the zipper. It’s awkward to reach, and I have to twist and stretch a bit, muttering under my breath, but eventually it slides up smoothly. The fabric settles against me perfectly, like it was cut with my body in mind. Before I let myself look, I decide to do it properly. Shoes first. Then, very, VERY carefully , the choker necklace. I hold my breath as I fasten it, half afraid of breaking something impossibly valuable. The fire diamonds catch the light immediately, glowing warm and alive against my skin. Next come the bracelets, two cuffs, one for each wrist, and finally the earrings, which feel surprisingly light despite how dramatic they look. Only then do I stand. I smooth my skirt, take a steadying breath, and step in front of the mirror. The mirror shifts slightly, adjusting itself to give me a better angle, tilting just enough that I can see the whole effect at once.
“Oh.” I breathe.
“Wow. I love it.” I say out loud. The dress is stunning. Ethereal. The jewellery doesn’t overpower it, it belongs with it, the gold and fire woven seamlessly into the white shimmer of the fabric. I don’t look like myself exactly… But I don’t look like someone else either. Just a version of me that feels more confident. I laugh softly and spin in place, and the skirt fans out around me in a soft, floating circle before settling back against my legs. Perfect. I immediately grab my phone, take a mirror photo, and send it to my mum. Her reply comes almost instantly.
Mum- You look beautiful sweetheart! <3 I hope you have so much fun! Take lots of photos and I’ll see you tomorrow and you can tell me all about it. Love you! Xox
I smile at the screen.
Lexi: Thanks mum, I will!
So this is the outfit the Academy thinks represents me. I turn slowly in my room, watching the way the fabric catches the light, how it moves when I do. I love it, I really do, but I can’t quite work out what it’s saying. White, as a colour, feels almost blank. Neutral. There are no patterns, no symbols woven into it that I can recognise. No obvious statement. The jewellery doesn’t help much either, because that wasn’t the Academy’s choice. That was Blake. Very intentionally Blake. So all I’ve really got to go on is white and glitter. That’s… Not much to work with. Maybe Blake will have ideas. Or maybe his outfit will make things clearer. If this is about opposites, then surely what he’s wearing will say something interesting. Curiosity buzzing under my skin, I head for the door. My dress flows easily around my ankles, light and effortless, and with every step I feel a little like I’m floating rather than walking. I definitely took my time getting ready, longer than I meant to, but I don’t regret it. Blake almost certainly didn’t take as long. He doesn’t have to deal with hair, makeup, any of that. Probably. He could technically be wearing makeup or something, I’m not ruling it out completely. I knock on his door and wait, listening for footsteps. Nothing. I frown slightly. That’s odd. Did he go somewhere?
“Lexi?” I hear from over my shoulder. I jump and spin around in the hallway. Blake is standing a few steps behind me. And, oh… He’s dressed up. Black pants tucked neatly into black boots. A dark shirt, not quite black, but so deep a navy it almost looks like it, with the top few buttons undone in a way that feels deliberate rather than careless. The collar and edges of the fabric are embroidered in gold, intricate and sharp, the stitching glitters, catching the hallway lights every time he shifts. Around his neck is a gold collar necklace, similar in style to mine but without gemstones. Solid. Heavy-looking. The cuffs on his wrists match, visible because his sleeves are rolled up. The whole look is… Sort of relaxed formal. Controlled, but effortless. Also, I have never really considered how attractive jewellery can be on men before. The answer, apparently, is very. My mouth goes a little dry.
“Hi… Did you go out somewhere?” I manage. He nods easily.
“Yes. I flew home and grabbed these.” He gestures to the necklace and cuffs like it’s nothing.
“I like them. They look good.” I say honestly. He smirks, clearly pleased.
“I picked them because they match what you’re wearing. Our outfits clearly go together.” He says smugly. I blink. The colours are technically opposites, white and near-black, but when I look at us together, the gold ties it all in. Fire and light. Dark and bright.
“You’re not wrong. But we only match because of the things you added. I’m not sure that counts.” I admit.
“Of course it counts. We match because I made us match. Now we’re definitely partners. I made sure of it.” He replies smoothly. I snort softly.
“Is that how it works?” I ask.
“Yes. Yes, it is.” He says without hesitation. I can’t help but smile.
“What time is it? Shall we go?” I ask.
“We can. But before we do…” He trails off as he reaches for my hand. Gently, confidently, he lifts it above my head. His other hand settles at my lower back, warm and steady, then he turns me slowly, deliberately. My skirt fans out in a soft arc, the fabric shimmering as it moves. He takes his time looking me over, from the fall of my hair to the line of the dress to the jewellery gleaming against my skin. I swallow.
“So… Does my outfit tell you anything new?” I ask, trying very hard not to blush. His gaze lifts to mine.
“It tells me that you look perfect.” He says firmly. He isn’t lying. He really means it. And just like that, the heat rushes to my cheeks. Damn it.