A/N: Hello again everyone! Real quick: for Starr's outfit, I tried to paste the picture of it to the chapter but it didn't work since it's not from the Internet ^^;

Rosie: WHY DO YOU INSIST ON TORTURING MEEEEEE?? Everytime I get to the bottom of your chapters, your A/N's make me wanna cry T_T I heart you and all but why. do. you. want. to. kill. me????

*sigh* Everyone, this was Rosie's weapon on me. Careful as you handle it; you might hyperventilate . . . *Daisy thinks about it - and has to go get a paper bag*

And it's illegal.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uqvqrX06H2o&feature=plcp

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"My, my, you're having a busy week, hmm, Starr?" Mother comments when I ask to go to the mall with everyone the next day. Amber had left our house about an hour ago to get dressed. When she came back, she promised me that Daddy wouldn't say no to her if she asked him to let me go – not if she was already dressed-up and expecting me to come along.

"Well, everyone's insisting on extending my sixteenth birthday celebration, so who am I to argue?" I smile big and Mother laughs. "Clever. Well, I don't have a problem with you going; you have to ask Daddy, though."

"I just did!" Amber sings, skipping into the main living room. "Daddy says it's okay for you to go as long as we're back by six." (Yes, Amber calls Daddy 'Daddy', too, since she's practically my sister). "Awesome!" I yell. She mouths, Told ya he'd say yes. I roll my eyes; she up to everyone around here. "When are the guys going to get here?"

"Soon, babe, soon," she answers as we walk through the kitchen to the second, smaller living room. "How do I look?" she asks, posing the A. S. pose. Her outfit's semi-gothic. She's wearing a breezy, knee-length dark jean skirt with fishnet stockings; a plum colored, sleeveless, cotton turtleneck shirt with a thin grey, well-worn vest; fingerless fishnet gloves; and black ankle boots with three inch heels. She has her hair down and her bangs are pulled to the right side with a sparkly purple barrette. Her makeup consists of smoky-eyes and really shiny lips.

The end result better be that Ren finally acknowledges her for the woman she wants to be seen in his eyes. If he doesn't give the lovable bee-yatch a second glance, he just might be gay after all.

"Sweets, you look y as hell. I'm not sure about the outfit you put me in, though . . . It might be too much," I say nervously, shifting on the couch uncomfortably. She doesn't answer right away and instead spins around the room. I had planned on wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie, but next to Amber I felt dull – and as soon as she saw me, she must've thought the same thing because she grabbed my hand and took me back up to my room immediately after I opened the front door.

Now I'm decked out in my brown suave skirt that hangs a few inches above the knee; a wide-necked, short-sleeved, olive green tunic with a thin, ropey, beaded belt tied snuggly around my hips; over that I'm wearing a short and casual jacket; a long, skinny white scarf is wrapped around my neck (if it catches on something and I choke to death, I'm taking Amber Steele with me to the grave); and white, saggy boots will complete the outfit.

When Amber pulled out those boots, I whined, "They'll stick to my legs."

"Then wear nylons with them."

"I don't have nylons."

She rolled her eyes and explored my sock drawer as I slipped into the clothes she'd thrown at me. She tossed something at me after a minute. They were my tall beige socks, about the same color as the ropey belt (which, actually, I have no idea where that belt materialized from . . .). I stare at the balled socks in my hand and said, "These are taller than the boots."

"Then they'll show and it'll look cute and you're going to wear them now." God, she probably bullied Pledis Entertainment to take her as a trainee all those years ago! (Nah, she's a good singer really ^_~). Amber started on my hair after I followed her demand. It's up in a high, loose bun with a few stray strands hovering around my face. But when she came at me armed with makeup, I practically pushed her off the bed (she wailed at me). I'm perfectly fine with her fashion sense and her ability to do hair – but when it comes to my face, I shove Amber and her painful tools and methods away. While she goes for the dramatic appeal, I go for a more natural, simple look. I never use foundation because I only work on my eyes: eyeliner on the bottom and a thin, thin, thin line of sparkly silver liquid eyeliner over that; mascara; and eye shadow (a dusting of white and gold today).

It seems like we're a bit heavily dressed for a summer day. But today has been filled with thunder storms and it will continue for the rest of the day. When it rains in the summer here, the air gets so frigid that you shiver – yet, it's still so unbelievably muggy. So you're struggling with choosing one from two tortures: to freeze your off or to swim in your own sweat. Amber's deciding to brave the cold while I'm adding another layer.

Our weather has its own freaking personality; a bi-polar one that drives everyone in the city to a serial killer mood.

I roll the beads on the belt between my fingers. "The colors aren't too coordinated?" Amber continues to spin. "Sweets, I'm really nervous about this," I grumble. "The least you could do is reassure me one last time." It seems like my so-called-friend is still ignoring me until she spins to a stop against the couch I'm on, jostling in backwards a few centimeter. She's practically on top of me; her hands are buried into the cushion on either side of my head and her knee is propped up on the seat cushion, leaving me, overall, with basically no space to move. "Starr," she says to me sternly. "Just shut up 'cause you'll enjoy the lust in JR's eyes when he sees you."

My eyes widen. "Amber!" I squeal with awkwardness. She cackles and falls beside me. "Well, either way, he's going to like it." Just then we hear a horn in the driveway and we sprint to the door like bullets, shouting our goodbyes as we shove our feet into our boots, and run out the door, purses swinging on our arms. Aron's dark green SUV is waiting for us patiently. As we approach the car, one of the back doors bursts open and JR tumbles out, like he was booted from behind. He stands up straight and laughs to whoever's in the backseat. He finally looks at us.

Amber Steele, I owe you fifteen boxes of red velvet cupcakes for not letting me walk out of the house in those old jeans.

I think JR's a little stunned about our appearance, to say the least. He teasingly says to Amber, "This is what you usually look like, yah, sweetie?" She strikes her pose and then hugs him before clambering into the car. I hear some yelling the second she's in there. I look up at JR and try to smile warmly, but I'm probably grimacing like a wolf because I'm so nervous. I wonder what he's thinking . . .

He smiles back easily and opens his arms to me questioningly. Hell yes! I step forward and he envelops me into his body. I'm hit so abruptly with his cologne that I quiver. JR pulls back after a second. "Are you cold?" he asks. "No," I answer. I look him over, trying to hide the fact that I'm checking him out. I my head to the side. I point to his clothes and say, "That looks familiar. I swear I've seen somebody with that same out–"

"It's similar to the costume on our CD cover, yah?" He looks delighted that I recognized it; it means that I've been looking them up and got use to seeing the same picture on every website. I smile. He motions for me to get into the car first and when I do, I realize what the noise was all about. Amber had yanked Ren into the last row with her and he still isn't situated in his seat because she won't stop hugging him. I chuckle with friendly mock-pity. "Poor Ren has to share his seat with a hot girl. I hope you survive the ride." Everyone giggles with me and Ren just shakes his head, finally getting his seatbelt on. I slide in next to BaekHo (who won't. Sit. Still. . .) and JR gets in next to me. He shuts the door as Aron shifts the gears into drive.

Once we're on the road, Aron starts to play with the controls. A K-pop song is blasting through the speakers a second later. "Is this Orange Caramel?" Amber asks from behind me. "Yah!" Aron shouts. They all sing along and make hand movements that I'm assuming were in the music video – and I just sit in the middle of it all, smiling contently.