#47 Prom

She looked around nervously, clutching her gown and walking around the parquet floor. Where is he? Someone was already clapping up front, calling them to fall in line- the entourage was about to start. Had he turned on her? The insecurities were toying with her head again, making her anxious. She was about to call him when-

“What’s up?” he asked, walking towards her. His indifference to the fact that his white suit was grabbing so much attention was amusing. He smiled at her, and she automatically relaxed.

“What took you so long?” she demanded as soon as he was right beside her.

He chuckled. “Sorry, ma belle dame.” He winked. “I went and got this,” he said, shrugging as he held up a corsage made of a single rose, entwined with intricately braided vines.

She blushed. “Oh.”

He held up her wrist, secured the corsage, and held her hand. “It’s pretty,” he said quietly as he looked into her eyes. “But nothing is ever more beautiful than the one whose hand I’m holding right now.” He kissed her forehead and put her arm in his as the doors opened.


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