They all look the same.
Every person in this room looks almost identical to the person standing next to them. All the girls are wearing pretty little pink dresses, each of them convinced that they outshine the others with their natural beauty and charm. You see, pink is the color of the season, so naturally every girl feels the overwhelming need to wear a blush gown, especially to a ball in which it is rumored that the prince will make an appearance. Personally, the color pink makes me sick, since being a girl meant that I spent my entire childhood swaddled in the color.
I was wearing a pink dress.
My mother threatened to burn the entirety of my closet unless I would wear a dress of her choosing today. Fearful for my favorite dresses and the items my mother would replace them with, I complied.
So here I was, in a pink dress, surrounded by girls whose only personality trait was being polite. God, I need more champagne.
I did, however, quite enjoy this. Not at this moment in particular, but I did enjoy the ballgowns and the music and the dancing. I did love to dance, although it is hard to find an adequate partner at times.
I spotted a handsome boy around my age on the other side of the ballroom. His eyes were already fixed on me. He had light hair, dark eyes, and a kind face. He would do.
I gave him a questioning look as if to say, Are you going to ask me to dance? He began making his way across the room, walking towards me.
"Would you care for a dance?" he asked, bowing in greeting.
"It would be my pleasure," I responded with a small curtsy and a stoic expression on my face.
I knew this game well. What I've come to realize is that men cannot resist a mystery, and that is exactly what I became to be. Not a single soul in this room has figured me out, although many have tried. It's what draws them back in when they try to pull away.
We made our way to the center of the dance floor and began to waltz and sway gracefully.
"That color looks quite ravishing," my partner commented.
"It's the same color any other girl in this room is wearing."
"Yes, but it looks best on you," he responded.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Flattery will only get you so far," I said with a small flirtatious smile, daring him to play along.
"And how far is that?" Well played.
"Well that depends."
"On?"
"On how far you are willing to take it."
He let out a small laugh.
"I have yet to learn your name," he stated.
"That you do."
"Henry," he introduced himself.
"Rosalie," I followed.
I was beginning to like Henry. He seemed kind and was an amusing flirt.
Suddenly, a murmur spread through the room and all voices became hushed. Even the music seemed to grow quieter.
"Looks like the prince has arrived," Henry explained.
"Well that's not such a rare occurrence," I challenged. Surely the prince was of high stature, but simply his appearance was not a reason for this level of commotion. He and his family come to these balls often, considering the fact that they have befriended a good portion of the nobility.
"Yes, but this is his first ball since he has announced his search for a wife."
YOU ARE READING
Catch
Fantasía"You know this is a game." He took a step towards me. "I know. I'm playing it too," he whispered into my ear. "So let's play," I said just as seductively. I leaned in until our lips were nearly touching. His eyes grew dark as they drifted to my lip...
