dance dance {open}

[ADDISON ROWE]

A masquerade!

It was an absolutely perfect idea. She couldn’t imagine why the people of New York had taken so long to have one. Masquerades were beautiful and mysterious; she was going to have so many story ideas by the end of the night. Addison had gone dress shopping with Andrea, one of her dearest friends, and she was still very happy over her pick. For awhile after that (for she had bought her dress at least two weeks in advance), she thought about how she’d like to spend the day of. Of course, she’d need to take time for her hair and her makeup and general prepping. A couple days prior the ball, she found out through Grace that she and Andie were getting ready together. After some talking, it was decided that Addison could join the two of them for all the pre-masquerade preparations.

It had been a very good idea. Addison was sure she would have enjoyed spending a couple hours with anybody – Pickle, Andrea, her mother – but there was something about Grace and Andie that Addison very much enjoyed. It may have been their differing personalities or that Grace was brilliant at cooking and so they always had something to nibble on. Whatever it was, Addison didn’t think getting ready for a dance could be that much fun. She looked lovely, her hair all styled and her makeup applied just right. Addison felt pretty and she still wanted to twirl around in her dress until she was dizzy. However, she was wearing heels for the first time in what felt like forever – the last time had been at a wedding – and she was still getting used to them. Addison was so used to flats and boots that she could understand why some referred to heels as death traps.

By the time they’d gotten to the masquerade, taking place at a big fancy building Addison had never been to before, she was very hungry and her feet were starting to hurt. She was obviously realizing it too late, but she should have more than some snacks, and she should have not gone for heels (even though these weren’t very high). They hadn’t been there long when Andie and Grace went off in different directions. Addison bid them farewell and stood around awhile longer, taking the time to notice every little detail. She was sure a lot of work had been put into this and she wanted whoever had worked so hard to know that it was appreciated. Half of New York must have been here, she thought, looking around, trying to pick out anybody she may recognize. Of course, though, she realized a bit lately, they were all in masks.

However, since she had helped Andrea pick out her dress, she noticed the girl almost immediately. Approaching her quickly so as not to lose her (for it was still very busy), she gently tapped Andrea on the shoulder, careful not to startle her. They spent some time together, mingling for the most part, since the masquerade hadn’t been going on for long. Most people were likely to show up ‘fashionably late,’ anyway. Eventually, Addison decided she could ignore her hunger anymore. Suggesting she go get some punch for the two of them, Addison promised to be back as soon as possible, giving Andrea a reassuring touch on the wrist, before taking off towards the refreshments table. There were plenty of plates to choose from, mostly finger foods, desserts and sandwiches. Addison took a moment to at least be a bit less hungry, and then she filled two cups and went to find Andrea.

For a second, Addison panicked. Andrea was not where she had left her… Thank God, from the corner of her eye, she spotted Andrea’s dress and she turned around to ask why she had moved when Addison noticed she wasn’t alone. She was talking to a boy who looked the same age as she did, which Addison couldn’t really assume because he was wearing a mask. He was using his phone…? Addison’s motherly instincts kicked in for whatever reason, because she didn’t know this boy, and Andrea was one of her closest friends, but… no, no. She was fine. She could handle herself. Turning away, deciding if she was still worried about it later, she’d check then, Addison realized then that she was holding two cups of punch. … Well, this was awkward.

---

this outfit with this mask

[PICKLE ABREY]

Pickle originally hadn’t wanted to go to the Masquerade, but a few of the girls in her grade convinced her, and even took her dress shopping. Because her budget wasn’t expendable, she ended up going for a vintage dress that the girls were surely snickering over. Even when Pickle stumbled awkwardly from the dressing room. The reassured her that it looked wonderful, and Pickle—in her sad, special little way—believed them. It honestly should be been a disaster. She had absolutely no idea that the dress was going to look the complete opposite once she was dressed for the evening.

Just a few days later, Pickle had managed to get ready, and took a cab down to the massive building. She girl felt safe behind the antique mask her mother had overnighted to her. A silver and pale gold combination, that looked delicate with lacework and a peak that accented the twisted coif of her pale blonde hair. The dress itself was old, possibly white at one time had now become a delicate champagne color. It was a one sleeved number, with that one particular sleeve reaching down in lace embroidery to her wrists, and left her other arm pale, and bared to the world. Her hair swept up left her thin neck looking long, and delicate. Along with the mask, her mother had sent her matching cameo earrings that delicate bounced off the curve of her jaw when she moved her head. To match the earrings, and the timelessness of the dress, strapped gold shoes peeked out from the lace-tipped gown. Pickle was used to flats as well, but the awkward girl had a strange grace to her that allowed her long legs to carry the heels well.

To top it all off, there had been color splashed onto her face. Her full, downturned mouth was painted in a sudden scarlet color, with her eyes framed in a deep burgundy, making the huge eyes behind the mask look minimilized, but the shade to look vivid. Pickle had no idea that her so called “friends” makeover had completely backfired. Pickle was elegant, sensual without showing everything. In fact, her chest was hidden by the lace, though the dress hugged every miniscule curve. She had sat in front of a webcam for her mother, the woman having driven to tears. It was still lost on the awkward girl, even when she meandered into the building a few heads turned towards her, before looking back to what they were doing.

With her eye for detail, she was able to figure out some of who was who. Either by their voice, by the way they laughed, or the fact their mask wasn’t doing a very good job. In fact, had it not been for the sudden pang in her chest, she might have walked just past the pretty girl in the blue dress. The girl who looked lost with the punch in her hands. A grin spread over her face while Pickle backtracked, and slipped in front of her. “I think we’ve met?” She asked curiously, before her long fingers gently grasped the edge of her own gold mask, and peeled it temporarily away from her face, blinking her absurdly large eyes at Addison before placing her mask back on. “Why are you just standing here? Or do you have a date?” Behind her mask, there was a flicker of concern, Pickle’s slender neck swiveling her head to look around. “I’m not interrupting am I? I just recognized you and wanted to say hi.”

She was supposed to be meeting RJ here, apparently. After that night sneaking into the cafeteria with Freddie and RJ, she had what she needed to make that wonderful set of sweet breads, before deciding to ask him to the masquerade. Which after a chorus of “Awws” that could have only helped her case, Pickle ended up with a date to the Masquerade. Only—he was supposed to meet her there. And now thinking back on it, that had been a terrible idea. What if she couldn’t find him? Would he be upset with her? “I was supposed to meet RJ here, but…” Her brows furrowed uncomfortably behind the mask. "I can't find him."

--

OUTFIT!

[ADDISON ROWE]

Addison sighed.

She really should find somewhere to set down this cup… It wasn’t like she needed all of this punch. Maybe she could find somebody else to give it to? She’d be saving time for them… and punch… and a cup. Addison sighed again. This masquerade was getting more and more awkward by the second. Thank God, she thought, when a girl who had just walked by her turned around and faced her. Blinking, confused for a moment, she wondered if they had met. Addison wasn’t at all very good at recognizing anybody else.

There was something familiar about the girl. It might have been the hair or her facial structure, but Addison wasn’t sure until she had lifted her mask. “Pickle!” Addison grinned. If it hadn’t been the hair or the facial structure, it absolutely would have been the eyes. Honestly, Addison adored Pickle’s eyes. People tended to make fun of her for them, but Addison found herself jealous at times. Addison gave her friend an incredulous look. “Me? Have a date?” Addison shook her head. “No, no. Of course not. I came here with some friends.”

Addison had no idea who she would have even wanted to go with to the masquerade. As a date, that was. There was always Tyler, her closest guy friend. She was sure they would have a lovely time. Then again, Addison thought, glimpsing at Pickle. She still did kind of want to introduce the two of them, assuming they hadn’t already met. She was so positive they’d get along… Was Freddie here? She blinked, shaking her head. Where had that come from? It wasn’t like she cared whether or not he was here. He probably was. Almost everybody she knew had been invited, and even if he hadn’t, wasn’t it so like him to sneak in?

Addison glanced around then, as if she would be able to find Andie or Grace or Tyler or Freddie somewhere amidst all the people. It was proving to be impossible. “They wondered off somewhere…” She shrugged and looked back to Pickle, holding out one of the cups for her, in case Pickle wanted any punch. “No, you’re not interrupting! Please, stay.” The last thing she wanted was to be standing around alone again. Besides, Addison felt as if she had not seen enough of Pickle in awhile. Or maybe it was just that they hadn’t made any plans for the masquerade…

Addison shifted on her feet and tilted her head, wondering what it could be that was making Pickle look… upset. She was supposed to… meet… RJ. “Ohmygod!” Addison suddenly exclaimed in a very un-Addison-like manner. “That’s right! I heard about that.” Of course, she’d been guilt-ridden when she hadn’t sought out Pickle immediately after hearing that Pickle had asked RJ to the dance (with sailing themed baked goods and all!). She looked around again, trying to find RJ. “Well, there are a lot of people here and the night has just begun.”

Addison smiled at Pickle reassuringly. “I’m sure you’ll find him, or he’ll find you. One way or another.”

[/blockquote]

[FREDDIE FOSTER]

Freddie hadn’t worn dress pants in three years. Now, he remembered why. They fucking itched. You couldn’t wear boxers with slacks. According to RJ, they “made your balls bunch,” whatever the hell that meant. For once in his life, Freddie had listened to his roommate, however, and now was beginning to regret it immensely. He liked a nice breeze, thanks. He liked wearing his pants down just low enough that girls could see the little rubber ducks or dancing pickles or singing bananas decorating the fabric and laugh with him about them, and he liked knowing they’d been looking. He liked attention, people liked to say. He liked to tell them they were wrong and smile to himself, knowing they got him spot on.

Honestly, he wished he’d never come here. He didn’t dance—didn’t know how, honestly, unless the moves were of the bumping and grinding variety (and that, honestly, he was quite good at for only being sixteen). He hated stuck up people and he didn’t much like charity, either, and the food absolutely sucked. What the hell kind of party didn’t serve pigs in a blanket? It was blasphemy. And what was worse, RJ had ditched him. Douchecanoe.

He could have gone to find him. But that would have been exactly what he’d want, and no way in hell would Freddie give him that. Not after the underwear incident. Besides, he didn’t need a wingman. Not really. Freddie was suave. He was charming, and he had his dashing good looks, like Will told him. He’d be fine. Why, he could have any girl here he wanted. Assuming he left the drinks table long enough to actually talk to one, that was. But this punch—it was fucking good, man. Ginger Ale added and everything. He could feel the class bursting out of each individual carbonated bubble, swelling him up so much that eventually, he found he probably had two—no, three—options.

One: Belch so loudly that the entire room turned to look at him. Surely, RJ would come searching for him then.
Two: Take a piss.
Three (bonus option): Take a whizz, then come back to the dance floor and find someone to talk to—preferably female, and ravish them with compliments and talk of charity until they realized they had no choice but to accompany him out of this place and back to his dorm room, where they would then make sweet love good enough for him to brag about to RJ for months afterwards.

Obviously, Freddie’s life was molded to fit choice number three. So, choice number three it was. When he returned from the bathroom it was to find that fate or God or just plain luck had clearly been on his side, because there, standing just a few feet away from him, was a drop-dead gorgeous guest of the female variety. There was something familiar about the way she held herself, but in that blue dress and that mask, well, she could have been anybody. There was a bit of him that hoped she was someone specific, but he wouldn’t get his hopes up. No doubt that girl was off somewhere else, reading a book or writing a story or something. And besides, he didn’t need her.

Freddie made his way easily through the small crowd to the beautiful girl and her friend, a little blonde who he honestly didn’t recognize one bit. Looking between them, he offered a smile so innocently charming it seemed entirely separate from the boy who’d just this past weekend threatened to give Scotty McAndrews a swirly for not moving out of his way.

“Hey, um, I’m really sorry if I’m interrupting, it’s just—I was wondering if you guys had seen my friend. Real tall kid, dressed as a pirate. Sorta bumbles his way around. He’d be hard to miss, if you’d seen him…” he gestured so as to indicate RJ’s height, and his blue eyes darted between the two girls, though it was obvious they were fixated far more on the one in the blue. She looked like something out of a dream, the way her dress flowed. Freddie bit his lip, grateful at least that he wasn’t technically lying. He had no idea where RJ was. “Um if you haven’t, that’s fine. I just—” he shrugged and gave a nervous little laugh. “He’s the only person I know here, is all.”

[PICKLE ABREY]

"I honestly don't believe you don't have a date. Freddie didn't even try?" Pickle's nose wrinkled, before she remembered something. Her face fell, and behind her mask her expression took on one of confusion. "Not even Tyler?" Her head tilted to the side slightly, carefully taking the punch offered to her from Addison. Her lips scrunched to the side--let her find Tyler. She was gonna give him a stern talking to. Him not making a move was leaving the door wide open for Freddie, and Pickle Abrey would roll in her proverbial grave if Freddie managed to woo her best friend over. Addison deserved someone sweet, kind, and someone that had class. Not a douchenozzle like Freddie.

"Hopefully..." She added on, glancing around the crowd again with a slight sigh. She was doing her best to keep her hopes up, however it was difficult. The awkward girl did her best to pretend she didn't notice, it was just easier to live that way--but she wouldn't be terribly surprised if RJ had skipped out on the dance. It wouldn't be a surprise that if she went to check on him, she'd find him with some fake illness, sprawled across his bed.

Pickle was a very sensory sort of girl. She was good at picking up different scents--she had to know when things were just right for her pastries. She was good at listening, knowing when something was bubbling just right, or when the timers went off across her home. As a child, she had listened to the ticking of the clock, waiting for her parents to come home from the doctor, and her eyesight was trained to find the smallest imperfections in her culinary masterpieces. When it came to details and physical things, Pickle didn't miss a single beat. She would have been able to perfectly describe any of her friends; the way their lips curled, how they looked when they were speaking. She could hear their expressions just in the way they were talking.

So when she heard that voice she felt a sickening chill down her spine. There were voices she'd know anywhere--Mother, Father, Addison, RJ...and Freddie. As sad as it was, she could hear his voice a mile away. It stuck in her brain, constantly filled with a sneer, a tease and an insult. This voice didn't have that sneer or insult to it, but it had the same infliction to it that made her believe that it was none other than Freddie. On the one night that she felt good about herself, it was only a matter of time before Freddie would cut her down to size. Something was off in his voice, however. He didn't sound disappointed when he addressed both Addison and Pickle, like he was just sort of accepting Pickle as the third wheel. This baffoon had absolutely no idea.

And the best part was--he had just confirmed one of the things Pickle had been wondering. RJ was here, and additionally--he was dressed like a pirate. So now, if RJ tried to wriggle out of this one Pickle had him by the scruff. Part of her wanted to brush Freddie off; her large eyes glancing towards Addison, looking for any twitches of her face that gave away the fact she recognized who this boy was. She glanced back at Freddie, and parted her lips slightly. She spoke clearly, annunciating each word as carefully as she could to soften the blow of her typically heavy Lousiana accent, "I haven't seen any pirates, sorry. Try the snack bar?" Her shoulder raised slightly, and she did her best not to look Freddie right in the face. Maybe he wouldn't notice that her eyes were larger than the mask made them seem--maybe he wouldn't pick out the faint fluxuation in her voice.

Maybe Freddie was as dumb as a cucumber and had absolutely no idea who he was talking to, and would turn on his horribly shined shoes and waltz away.

--

OUTFIT!

[RJ TEACH]

RJ swore that he must have been a serial killer or something in a past life in order to deserve the personal hell that had been served up to him by karma in the form of this blasted dance. It was irony in its purest form that the ONE dance that RJ managed to get a date for instead of Freddie, the ONE time he had technically managed to one-up Freddie at something, it was only through his inability to say no to someone like Pickle in public.

Jesus, he wanted to cringe just thinking of that fucking lunch block. It had been perfectly normal. Nothing extraordinary to begin with. RJ and Freddie were joking about how weird it was to have snuck down into the kitchen with their weird dorm neighbor the night before. Then, out of nowhere, in the middle of the crowded dining hall with tons of kids around to watch with bated breath for his response, Pickle had marched right up to him with some extravagant display of baked goods and loudly asked him to go to the ball with her.

It had been IMPOSSIBLE to say no. With all those eyes watching, judging, ready to pounce if he broke the poor girl's heart, RJ had no other choice but to accept. Even with Freddie snickering quite loudly in the background, RJ still knew that it was the only available option the minute he saw those big doe eyes light up.

Now, however, he was instantly regretting it. He could still work on weaseling his way out of it, right? He'd only accepted to be her official date, right? That didn't mean he BELONGED to her. As long as he saw her at least once or twice during the huge dance he was sure it would count. Anyone who heard her say otherwise would think she was just overreacting. Pickle was kind of known for overreacting and now that the huge fuss had passed over he was sure it would be totally fine. He would save face and still not be trapped with a slightly crazy, definitely scary girl all night.

Dressed in some ridiculous outfit that Will had chosen for him, RJ made his way through the dance. Sure, he felt a bit silly in the fruity hat and costume, but he was hardly standing out from the rest of the attendants. Admittedly, he didn't have much of a chance to enjoy the festivities: it was like a battlezone. He had no clue when or where Pickle could break out from the shadows and drag him back to some lair she'd carved out of a corner in the dance floor. He knew that he had to kill as much time as possible before they inevitably found each other. Once she got her claws in him he was sure there would be no escape.

Finally, RJ spotted someone who he recognized. Freddie was hard to miss, especially since he had only been whining about his slacks an hour or two before in their dorm. He was chatting it up with some girl in a crazy vintage dress and RJ knew more than enough to give him a wide berth when he was trying to get himself laid. Nearby, however, was someone who looked suspiciously like Addie. Making his way across the dance floor, RJ shot her a smile as he approached.

"Damn Freddie, pretending to be a ladykiller already? It's not even that late! Do you honestly think you're going to get yourself in bed with this poor girl already?" He jerked his head in the direction of the two while practically snorting with laughter. Freddie was a walking social disaster, but he always managed to make it funny.

[ADDISON ROWE]

Addison winced a bit, wishing she’d thought more to include Tyler in her masquerade plans. They had talked of going as friends but then she’d gotten all sorts of distracted with dress shopping and preparing and she’d sort of forgotten. Trying not to let her guilt get a hold of her, Addison shrugged. “We had talked about going together, but I guess we never made it official.” She’d have to text him. As soon as possible. It wasn’t a successful masquerade without a dance with your best guy friend. The very idea of Freddie asking her to the masquerade made her laugh at loud, “oh, don’t be ridiculous. Why would Fredrick Foster of all people ask me to be his date?” Addison sipped at her punch in an attempt to stifle her giggles for she was sure she looked absurd.

It wasn’t much longer when someone new joined them, and much as Addison hadn’t recognized Pickle, she didn’t recognize this boy as well. It was a bit annoying, really, not knowing who anybody was. The masks were doing much too good a job. “A pirate?” Addison repeated, arching a brow. Who came to a masquerade dressed as a pirate? Addison supposed it could make sense, but she had yet to see anybody else really in a costume. Still, she knew of one person who could really pull that off and if he was indeed here dressed as a pirate, then Pickle should have no trouble at all finding him. And Addison certainly hoped Pickle would find him. Addison shook her head, emphasizing what Pickle was saying. She hadn’t seen any pirates either, though if RJ was the one this boy was speaking of, then perhaps Pickle should be heading to the snack bar herself.

Addison hardly had time to notice Pickle’s sudden difference in behavior when another boy approached. She smiled in return, and it was then that she realized how we was dressed. “A pirate!” she exclaimed, mostly to herself, ignoring how she’d only just been saying the words a few minutes ago. Well, that had been easy, hadn’t it? Addison glanced over to Pickle and grinned, nudging her gently. “Look who I fou—” Addison made a strange noise sounding a bit like a what amongst a painful cough. And once she’d recovered from that, she shot a look towards the boy who’d she hadn’t been able to recognize, and wondered how in the world she hadn’t known it was Freddie the moment he’d walked up. It was then that she understood why Pickle had sounded different when he arrived – she knew who everybody was.

“Freddie… RJ.” Addison said simply, awkwardly downing what remained of her punch. One of the only things on her mind right now was that Pickle and RJ ought to have been off on the dance floor already, even if it meant she’d have to stay behind with Freddie. Addison wanted nothing but happiness for her friend. “Having a good time?” She looked between the three of them, trying not to stare for too long at anyone in particular. She couldn’t help it, though, that she was somehow fascinated by how nice Freddie looked when he cleaned up. Her glances lingered a bit longer, her expressions torn between being impressed and confused.

[PICKLE ABREY]

Pickle's eyes closed when she heard RJ say his name outloud. Pickle hadn't even been able to process that it was RJ in that costume--only that Freddie had been technically unmasked, which meant Addison wouldn't be able to contain herself, which then meant this whole thing was going to be a little more than a fiasco. Pickle forced and awkward smile onto her face, glancing up at RJ. Luckily the mask did a pretty good job of hiding her eyebrows, because one was lifted and the other furrowed down--really taking in his costume. Her burgundy painted lips scrunched to the side, and she reached up to flick the brim of RJ's hat. "Nice hat, RJ." She lowered her hand back down, and glanced to Addison.

Unfortunately, Pickle's claws were retracted and things seemed to be flying over her head. All she knew was that Addison looked good, Freddie noticed, and she needed to get her friend out of here. She wanted to tug on RJ's sleeve and ask him to help. But he was a friend of Freddie's. No, she was going to have to do this on her own. But if she completely ignored RJ---then maybe he'd think she was a bitch. This whole thing was starting to short-circut her brain. One hand reached to the back of her pale neck, and just grapped for a motion, trying to massage the tension out of it.

This night was going to be a mess of epic proportions, and Pickle's only support system here was making eyes at the most irritating boy on the face of the earth. "So, RJ's obviously a pirate. Annnd, Addison's dressed up as a star," Pause. Think. What the hell could she be. She only called Addison the first thing that came to her mind, and with the glitter and silver and soft blue--Addison definitely looked like she belonged up in the sky, twinkling witht he other stars. But what would Pickle be? Forget it, figure it out later. "So what exactly are you?" She asked Freddie, her head canting to the side. Surely now that he knew they were Addison and Pickle, the insults would be lashed out. Then again--with Addison standing here Freddie would be a bit nicer.

Pickle leaned over towards RJ, dropping her voice low enough that it didn't carry outside of their circle, but loud enough that RJ would hear her over the music. "Isn't he supposed to be on a leash?" She asked curiously, the innocence in her voice was only ruined by the tiny smile that twitched at the corner of her mouth. She didn't dare look back at Freddie, just in case he heard. Ohhh, but Pickle was so terrible at resisting temptation. Because she did indeed glance back, just a quick one. Though, she was pretty sure that she'd see nothing but that stomach turning, gag-inducing Freddie Foster doing a horrible impression of the Tex Avery wolf.

--

OUTFIT!