The Triplets’ Bookworm

CH 14 - AMBER

AMBER POV

Saturday mornings were supposed to be sacred, a time for uninterrupted sleep and blissful ignorance of the world. That dream was shattered when my bedroom door burst open with all the subtlety of a hurricane.

“Wake up, sleepyhead! We’ve got work to do!” Vic’s voice sliced through the air, loud and full of unwarranted energy. She flung open the curtains, letting in an offensive amount of sunlight. I groaned, throwing the covers over my head in protest.

“What the hell, Vic? It’s Saturday!” My voice was muffled but still held enough venom to convey my irritation. “Why are you even here?”

“To get you ready for prom, silly!” she announced, her chipper tone making me want to scream.

I peeked out from under the blanket, glaring at her. “I don’t want to go,” I muttered, my voice laced with exhaustion.

Vic, unbothered as always, just rolled her eyes. “Amber, you’ve been saying that for days. It’s time to move on.”

“No, I mean it,” I groaned, sitting up and running a hand through my tangled hair. “I don’t want to go! I don’t want to see him. The asshole!”

Vic leaned against my dresser, arms crossed, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Christian?” she asked, feigning innocence.

“Obviously,” I snapped, throwing a pillow at her. She dodged it easily, smirking.

“Oh, come on. He’s not worth staying home for,” she said, brushing invisible dust off her leggings.

“It’s not just him,” I protested. “It’s... everything. The triplets will find it hilarious that I was dumb enough to fall for Christian in the first place. And what if he shows up with her?” My stomach churned at the thought of Christian with the redhead. “Oh God, no. I can’t handle that kind of humiliation!”

Vic just shook her head, exasperated. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No, I’m being realistic. I don’t need another s**t show in my life,” I muttered, flopping back down on the bed. “You go. I’ll be there in spirit.”

Vic’s grin turned wicked. “I knew you’d say that,” she said, turning toward the hallway. “RETT! ROBERT!”

“What are you doing?!” I sat up, alarmed.

Seconds later, my twin brothers stormed into the room, their identical faces set in matching scowls. They were still in their pajamas, but the anger radiating off them made them seem intimidating despite the goofy plaid pants.

“You’re going,” Rett declared, his voice firm.

“And if the asshole so much as looks at you,” Robert added, cracking his knuckles for effect, “we’ll take care of him.”

I blinked at them, stunned. “You can’t be serious,” I said, my voice rising in disbelief. “He has a wolf! You don’t!”

“Don’t worry about it, sis,” Rett said, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’ve got motivation.”

I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I don’t care about your ‘motivation.’ I’ll be fine here at home,” I retorted, crossing my arms. It was bad enough that my brothers were so overprotective; now they were trying to drag me into the mess I was actively avoiding.

“You’re really doing this?” I asked, looking between the three of them.

Vic, ever the instigator, grinned maliciously. “Guess I’ll have to bring out the big guns.” She turned toward the hallway and yelled, “AUNT REBECCA! WE NEED YOU!”

“Oh, for the love of—” I started, but before I could finish, my mom appeared in the doorway. Now it was a full-blown crowd in my tiny bedroom.

“What’s going on here?” my mom asked, her voice calm but carrying that unmistakable tone of authority that made everyone stand up straighter.

“Amber’s trying to chicken out of prom,” Vic announced smugly.

I groaned again. “I’m not chickening out. I just don’t want to go.”

Mom crossed her arms, pinning me with a look that could rival the triplets’ stares. “I didn’t raise you to be a coward, did I?”

“No, Mom,” I muttered.

“Then get your ass in the shower. We’ve got things to do.”

Her tone brooked no argument, and I knew better than to push back when she used that voice. Grumbling under my breath, I threw off the covers and stomped toward the bathroom. “Fine!” I snapped, slamming the door behind me.

The sound of laughter followed me, and I muttered curses under my breath as I turned on the water. “At least bring me coffee!” I shouted over the sound of the running water.

By the time I emerged from the shower, wrapped in a fluffy towel and nursing a bruised sense of dignity, my room looked like it had been hit by a hurricane. Dresses were strewn across every available surface, shoes littered the floor, Vic was holding up a sparkling silver gown to her chest, squinting critically at the mirror and my mom stood in the middle of the chaos with a curling iron in one hand and a triumphant look on her face.

“Oh, finally!” she exclaimed, tossing the dress onto my bed. “Took you long enough. Now hurry up, we’ve got work to do.”

I stared at her, blinking. “Why are you still here? And what’s with the mess?”

“Um, obviously, I need to pick out my dress, and we need to get you ready for prom,” she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Before I could protest, Vic shoved a steaming cup of coffee into my hand. “Drink this,” she commanded. “You’re going to need it.”

I obeyed, taking a long sip as I eyed the mess. “What the hell is going on in here?”

“Preparation,” Vic declared, holding up a dress that looked like it belonged in Vegas. “Now, sit down. We’re about to tackle your legs.”

I blinked. “Tackle my what?”

That’s how I found myself on my bed, legs stretched out, with Vic hovering over me like a sadistic beautician, holding a strip of wax.

“This is your first time waxing? How is that even possible?” Vic teased as she pressed the strip down with far too much enthusiasm.

“Maybe because I’ve never willingly subjected myself to medieval torture,” I retorted, clutching the pillow in anticipation.

Vic smirked. “You’ll thank me when your legs look flawless in that dress.”

“I’d rather thank you for letting me stay home,” I muttered.

“Oh, hush. On three, okay? One—”

She yanked the strip before finishing the count.

I screamed. “What the hell, Vic?! You said three!”

“And you said you didn’t want to go to prom. Clearly, neither of us sticks to what we say.”

My mom chuckled from the other side of the room, where she was busy testing out hairstyles with a curling iron. “Stop being such a baby, Amber. Beauty is pain.”

I glared at both of them, but another strip was already being pressed onto my leg. “I hate you,” I muttered through gritted teeth.

“You love me,” Vic sang, ripping the strip off before I could brace myself.

Once the waxing ordeal was over, I was convinced I’d lost a layer of skin. Vic was unfazed, though, cheerfully sorting through the pile of dresses as if nothing had happened.

“Now,” she said, holding up the dress with a flourish.

I froze, recognizing it immediately—the golden dress Vic had bullied me into buying weeks ago. “Oh no. No way. I’m not wearing that.”

“Yes, you are,” Vic said firmly, tossing it at me.

“You picked this out,” I accused her, holding up the shimmering fabric.

“Damn right, I did. Now, try it on.”

Sighing, I grabbed the dress and disappeared into the bathroom to change.

The moment I slipped it on, I knew I was in trouble.

I fidgeted for a moment, tugging at the hem, before stepping out.

Vic’s jaw dropped, and she let out a low whistle. “Oh. My. Goddess. Amber, you’re a bombshell.”

“I don’t know,” I said, tugging at the neckline. “It’s a bit much, isn’t it?”

“It’s perfect,” Vic said firmly, turning me toward the mirror. “Look at yourself. You’re a knockout.”

My mom nodded in agreement. “She’s right. You’re stunning, Amber.”

I couldn’t deny the effect, but it still felt like too much. “I feel like I’m wearing a sign that says, ‘Stare at me.’”

“That’s the point,” Vic said with a wink.

Once my hair and makeup were done, Vic turned her attention back to herself. She slipped into the silver dress, her dark hair cascading down her back in sleek waves. Her bold red lipstick and sparkling earrings completed the look perfectly.

“Well?” she asked, striking another pose.

“Beautiful,” I said honestly.

She grinned. “I know. Now, let’s go knock ’em dead.”

As I followed her to the car, nerves churned in my stomach. “Are you sure about this?”

Vic threw an arm around my shoulders. “Amber, trust me. By the end of the night, you’ll thank me.”

I wasn’t so sure about that.