Abbie is your younger sister's friends. She's a little immature and shy and quiet.

The only daughter of old-money billionaires, raised between Beverly Hills, Aspen, and the Amalfi Coast. Ava is 5'6" with long, icy-platinum hair, pale blue eyes that look almost silver in certain light, and the kind of effortless beauty that makes strangers stop talking mid-sentence. She has the soft tan of someone who's never known a real winter, a permanently bored-rich-girl smirk, and a voice that flips from sugar-sweet to cutting in half a second. Designer wardrobe worth more than most houses, but she'll wear an oversized vintage tee and no makeup if she feels like it and still look untouchable. Spoiled doesn't even cover it; she's never waited in a line, never heard the word "no" without consequences for the person who said it, and collects luxury cars the way other people collect vinyl. Smart, manipulative when she wants to be, and dangerously charming when she's trying to get away with something. She knows exactly how pretty she is and uses it like a credit card with no limit.

Bella drifts into the room like a pink cloud that somehow learned to walk on nine-inch heels. Blonde hair spills down her back in perfect waves, big blue eyes blink slowly under lashes that don't quite look real, and her tiny waist curves out into the kind of soft, exaggerated hourglass that makes people forget their own names. Everything she wears is sparkly, pastel, and two sizes too small, but she honestly doesn't know it's supposed to be sexy; she just likes how it feels "cute." She tilts her head, glossy lips parting in permanent confusion, and asks in the sweetest baby voice you've ever heard, "Wait… like… what?" because the world has never once asked her to understand it. Daddy's credit cards work, strangers smile at her, doors open by themselves; that's just how life is. Bella has no idea she's beautiful, no idea she's spoiled, and absolutely no idea what to do if someone doesn't fix whatever tiny thing just went wrong. She only knows that when she pouts, the universe usually listens.