Chapter 17

The white gown hangs like a promise in Amber's closet, catching late afternoon light through her silk curtains. She lounges on her bed, watching Susan admire her own emerald silk creation in the full-length mirror. The dress transforms Susan from Riverside royalty to something ethereal, the color making her blonde hair glow like captured sunshine.

"God, this is literally perfect," Susan breathes, smoothing invisible wrinkles from the fabric. "Though I'm still not sure about the shoes. Maybe the Louboutins would be better than the Jimmy Choos?"

Amber's phone buzzes with another text from Nate: Pretty sure Giovanni measured me like twelve times*

She rolls her eyes, typing back: Because Giovanni is an artist and you're his masterpiece. Now stop complaining and get that perfect butt of yours to the fitting

You're impossible, his reply comes instantly, followed by a string of heart emojis that make her smile despite herself.

"The white will be stunning," Susan declares, abandoning her reflection to flop onto the bed beside Amber. "Everyone else's dates will be in basic black, but Nate? In that white jacket? Pure perfection."

Amber's chest warms at the thought. She'd spent weeks choosing the perfect ensemble - the beige-white dinner jacket that would make him stand out like a beacon among the sea of standard tuxedos, the crisp black pants, the black bow tie that would tie it all together. Because Nate Brooks deserves more than ordinary. He deserves extraordinary.

Susan rolls onto her side, propping her head on one manicured hand. "This Winter Ball is going to be absolutely iconic. The decorations, the music, the photos..." Her eyes sparkle with anticipation. "Everyone's going to be talking about it for years."

Amber reaches for her best friend's hand, squeezing it gently. Their friendship spans generations - their grandmothers had attended cotillion together, their mothers had shared wedding planning duties, and now here they are, carrying on the legacy of perfectly coordinated social domination.

But it's more than that. Susan has been there through everything - through embarrassing wardrobe malfunctions and social catastrophes, through triumphs and tears. Through Hampton Beach...

Amber forces the memory away, focusing instead on the warmth of Susan's hand in hers. "Thank you," she whispers. "For everything. For always having my back."

"Oh please," Susan waves away her gratitude with practiced elegance. "We're practically family at this point. The Lawrences and Rosenbergs against the world, remember?"

Amber's phone lights up with a photo that makes her breath catch - Nate in Giovanni's mirror, the white jacket transforming him from star receiver to something that belongs in fairy tales. His dark hair catches light just right, and his smile carries that particular warmth that still makes her heart skip beats.

"Look at this," she breathes, showing Susan the photo. "How did I get so lucky?"

"Lucky?" Susan scoffs. "Please. You're Amber Rosenberg. He's the lucky one." But her smile is genuine as she studies the photo. "Though I have to admit, you two are going to look absolutely perfect together."

"Speaking of perfect couples," Amber rolls onto her stomach, watching Susan's expression carefully. "What's the deal with you and Justin? Everyone thought you and Jake were like..." She trails off meaningfully.

A wicked smile plays across Susan's perfect features. "Jake's sweet, and he's amazing arm candy for formal events. But I'm tired of being his backup plan, you know?" She examines her manicure with exaggerated casualness. "Besides, Justin..."

"Spill!" Amber demands, poking her friend's side.

"Well," Susan's grin turns positively feline. "Let's just say things got rather... interesting at Jake's Halloween party. In his father's study, no less."

Amber's jaw drops. "You didn't!"

Stolen novel; please report.

"We absolutely did." Susan's laugh is pure mischief. "On his father's very expensive desk."

Their laughter fills the room like expensive perfume, two girls sharing secrets in a world they've learned to rule together. Because some friendships are forged in designer clothes and careful alliances, while others are built on shared secrets and absolute trust.

And Susan Lawrence? She's both.

"So you and Justin are actually dating?" Amber asks, twirling a strand of perfectly highlighted hair around her finger. "Like, officially?"

Susan's smile softens into something almost shy - an expression Amber's rarely seen on her friend's carefully maintained features. "Kind of? He took me to Le Bernardin last weekend. And Tuesday, he actually cooked for me."

"Justin Moore cooks?" Amber sits up so fast her head spins. "The same Justin who once asked if you could microwave a whole chicken?"

"It was just pasta," Susan laughs, her cheeks flushing slightly. "But he was so proud of himself. Had the whole kitchen covered in flour, trying to make it from scratch. It was... sweet."

"He is pretty cute," Amber admits, thinking about Justin's perfect bone structure. "Those cheekbones could cut glass."

"Oh, he's gorgeous," Susan agrees. "But sometimes he's still such a boy, you know? Like yesterday, he spent an hour trying to teach me some complicated football play on his PS5."

"Please," Amber rolls her eyes. "He's literally the same age as Nate. They were born like two weeks apart."

"Yeah, but Nate's different." Susan's voice carries a weight that makes Amber look up sharply. "He's more... I don't know. Mature?"

Amber can't help but laugh. "Mature? The guy who spent twenty minutes this morning sending me dirty Snapchats? Who can't keep his hands off me for more than five minutes?"

"Can you blame him?" Susan's grin turns wicked. "If I looked like you in that white dress..."

They dissolve into giggles, but something in Susan's expression shifts as she meets Amber's eyes - ice blue colliding with emerald green. The laughter fades as Susan's face grows serious.

"But for real, Amber," she says softly. "You got lucky with Nate. And not just because he's hot or good in bed or whatever." She pauses, choosing her words carefully. "The way he looks at you... it's like he's constantly scanning for threats, you know? Like he'd burn down the world to keep you safe."

"It's sweet," Amber says, but Susan shakes her head.

"Not sweet. Necessary." Susan's voice drops lower. "The way he handles things - like a man, not a boy. Like at Hampton-"

The word hits Amber like a physical blow. Suddenly she's back there - the beach house swimming in her vision, colors too bright, sounds too sharp. XTC turning everything electric and dangerous. A girl's scream cutting through bass-heavy music. Her own panic rising like waves, threatening to drown her. Then Nate's voice, steady as an anchor: "I've got you, princess. Everything's going to be okay. Just breathe..."

"Hey! Amber!" Susan's voice cuts through the memory like a knife. Her hands find Amber's shoulders, steadying her as reality reasserts itself. "Come back to me, sweetie. You're here. You're safe."

Susan pulls her close, and Amber breathes in the familiar scent of Chanel and childhood memories. "It's done," Susan whispers against her hair. "Buried in the sand where it belongs. Just the four of us now - you, me, Jake, and Nate. That's all that matters."

Amber forces herself to breathe, to close that door in her mind like her therapist taught her. Lock it tight, throw away the key. Focus on now - on Susan's warmth beside her, on Nate's silly texts lighting up her phone, on the perfect white dress hanging like a promise of better things to come.

Because some memories deserve to stay buried in beach sand, and some secrets are better kept between friends who'd die to protect them.

"Do you ever think about it?" Amber asks, her voice barely above a whisper. "That night?"

Susan's fingers still in Amber's hair where she's been absently braiding strands. For a moment, the only sound is the gentle hum of the heating system and their synchronized breathing.

"Sometimes," Susan admits finally. Her voice carries a careful neutrality that speaks of practiced control. "But we were kids, Amber. High on whatever Jake got from that sketchy dealer, drunk on expensive vodka and summer air." She pauses, choosing her words with surgical precision. "We made mistakes. Terrible ones. But it's done now. Jake and Nate... they handled it. Like men do."

Amber focuses on her breathing, on the steady rise and fall of her chest. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Just like her therapist taught her.

"You can't let one night define your future," Susan continues, pressing a gentle kiss to Amber's temple. "The door is closed. Locked. The key's at the bottom of the ocean where it belongs."

Something in Amber's chest loosens slightly, like ice melting in spring. Because that's what Susan Lawrence does - takes chaos and turns it into something manageable, something almost forgettable.

"God, we need happier subjects," Susan declares suddenly, her voice carrying that particular tone that means gossip is imminent. Her green eyes sparkle with renewed mischief. "Have you heard about Alex Winters? Because apparently, our resident vampire queen has been spotted in some very interesting situations..."

As Susan launches into the latest Riverside drama, Amber lets herself be carried away by the familiar rhythm of their friendship. Because some stories are better left unfinished, and some nights are better forgotten in the warm light of day.