Dirty Pretty Words
Description
Elle Willsmith has spent most of her life blending into the background-insecure, overlooked, and mocked for everything from her weight to her mother's cleaning job. But when she crashes an elite masquerade ball to sing her heart out for the boy who's bullied her for years, she sets off a chain of events that flips her world upside down. Noah, DE-Fountain's golden boy and resident jerk, humiliates her in front of everyone-but something about her voice, her fire, and her refusal to stay down shakes him. As Elle finds the courage to enter a prestigious singing contest and fight for her dreams, Noah's walls begin to crack. Torn between the charming childhood friend who treats her like gold and the old enemy who might be falling in love with her, Elle must learn to trust her voice, her worth-and her heart. This is a story of bullies turning into protectors, underdogs becoming stars, and a love that was never supposed to happen.
Chapter 1
Jun 19, 2025
ELLE’S POV
My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
One tequila shot too many, perhaps. Or maybe it was the way my puffy face hid beneath the black mask or the borrowed Versace dress pinched under my arms, a constant reminder I didn't belong here.
The fabric scratched against my skin as I pressed myself against the wall, watching the elite of De-Fountain Academy twirl across the ballroom like they owned it. Which they did, in a way.
"Elle, this is insane. You're not supposed to be here.” I whispered to myself as I downed the remainder of my drink, the alcohol burning a path of liquid courage down my throat.
The masquerade ball was De-Fountain most prestigious event, hosted on the sprawling grounds of the academy itself. Only the richest, most popular, and seniors got invitations. Not scholarship kids like me who cleaned houses on weekends to help their moms with bills.
I spotted him then, through the sea of designer gowns and custom-made suits. Noah Bennett.
His mask, black with gold trim, couldn't hide those piercing blue eyes that had stared me down in hallways for three years. The eyes that sparked with amusement every time he humiliated me in front of everyone.
My tormentor. My obsession.
"Oh god, he's here," a girl muttered beside me with admiration.
I refused to take my eyes off Noah.
Noah laughed at something a tall blonde said, his head thrown back in that careless way that made my chest hurt.
The band finished their song, and polite applause rippled through the ballroom. I watched as the lead singer stepped aside, making an announcement about open mic time.
Something clicked in my head. Maybe it was the tequila. Maybe it was months of swallowed rage.
I stepped down from the high stool and pushed through the crowd. My heartbeat thundered in my ears as I approached the stage, unsure of what I was about to do. The band members gave me curious looks as I whispered my request.
The lead guitarist raised his eyebrows. "You sure about this, kid?"
I nodded, slipping off my heels because suddenly the stage seemed very far away and my balance very precarious.
The microphone felt cold in my hand. From up here, I could see the entire ballroom. The masks, the dresses, the privilege. And there he was, right in the center, holding court like the prince he thought he was.
I cleared my throat. "This is for someone special." My voice echoed through the room, stronger than I expected. The chatter died down as curious faces turned toward me.
"To the boy who named me Puffy-L." I locked eyes with Noah across the room. For once, I had his full attention. "This is what heartbreak sounds like."
The first chords of the song started, something raw and angry I'd written months ago in my bedroom, tears staining the pages of my journal. I'd never sung it aloud before, but the words poured out of me now like they'd been waiting for this moment.
I sang about masks we wear and names that cut like knives. About cleaning other people's messes while drowning in your own. About a boy with ocean eyes who never saw the girl drowning in them.
By the second verse, whispers rippled through the crowd. I saw recognition dawn on some faces—the references were too specific. Noah's expression changed from confusion to rage.
But I kept singing. My voice cracked on the high notes, but I didn't care. The band followed my lead, the drummer picking up the beat of my broken heart.
Somewhere in the middle, the crowd started to respond. A few people swayed. Someone whooped. Someone else joined in on the chorus I repeated.
For a moment—one glorious, perfect moment—I felt powerful. Seen. The invisible girl was finally visible.
Then Noah was moving, cutting through the crowd like a shark through water, coming straight for me.
The final chorus died in my throat as he reached the stage. Everything seemed to slow down. The band faltered, the music sputtering out like a dying engine.
"Who let the help in?" Noah's voice carried across the suddenly silent room. "Didn't anyone check the invitations at the door?"
My legs trembled beneath the borrowed dress. But I stood my ground, microphone clutched in my sweaty palm.
Before I could say anything, his hand shot out, grabbing the edge of my mask. The crowd gasped—touching someone's mask before midnight was the ultimate breach of etiquette at a masquerade.
"Let's see who's hiding behind this, shall we?" he drawled.
"Don't—" I started, but it was too late.
With one swift movement, Noah ripped the mask from my face. The delicate ties snapped, scratching my cheek. My vision blurred with unshed tears as my face was exposed to the entire room.
For a heartbeat, silence reigned. Then recognition dawned in Noah's eyes, followed quickly by something else. Something that looked almost like fear.
"Elle," he whispered, but the microphone caught it, and it echoed round the hall.
Dirty Pretty Words
30 Chapters
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