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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1552621-Watching-Her
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Romance/Love · #1552621
A vignette about prom and two girls in love.
A new song begins. More couples join the floor, merging with the large body of teenagers already dancing. The boys are dressed in fine tuxes their mothers or girlfriends picked out, and the girls are done to perfection, manicured nails and styled hair and dazzling gowns. The couples move together, holding each other, but even as my arms tighten around my own dashing male, I'm watching her.

There's a tear in her dress, a minute rip below the zipper. She's completely unaware, laughing hollowly to her date and a frozen smile stuck to her face, except for those few rare moments when my prayers are answered and she meets my gaze. Then the smile will thaw and melt off her face and pain rises to her eyes. She quickly turns away and moves closer to her boy, whispering something intimate in his ear. My eyes never leave her.

She is so beautiful tonight. Chestnut hair put up in an intricate design, floor-length emerald dress accenting her subtle curves, porcelain skin completing the portrait of a Victorian-era beauty. I momentarily free her from my gaze to glimpse down at my own loud red gown, shorter and bolder than hers. I am too loud, too bold, too everything for her.

My eyes close briefly as I struggle with emotion. I wanted us to be here together, to hold her in my arms in front of everyone, to have her publicly mine. But that scares her, and scares her bad. She went away from me a little the first time I suggested it, refusing to meet with me for one excruciating week. So instead, we're here with some stupid boys from the year above us, and I watch her.

I can't hold her here, not in public, not yet. But I'll see her tonight, and we'll have our own dance. She knows who she wants, who she needs. Even if she wished she loved that idiotic, arrogant boy who dances with her now, even if she does let him draw her close and slide his arm lower than is appropriate, she'll see me tonight. He doesn't see the falseness of her smile, doesn't notice the tear in her dress. It's me she'll be with tonight. Until then, I watch.
© Copyright 2009 Aislynn Farraday (melissahm at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1552621-Watching-Her