248 Days

June 14th

Claire had gone all out. She pampered me in every way possible, from the dress to the shoes, to the hair and makeup. She made sure everything was perfect. I hadn't intended to fuss over my prom look, but Claire claimed it was what my mother would have wanted and suddenly I didn't have the heart to protest.

     I had to admit that I was pleased with the final result. The off the shoulder, red dress was tailored perfectly to my curves, flattering my chest and hips. Remaining true to my wish of a minimalist look: with few folds on my waist the dress flowed freely, no jewels or sparkles on the crimson, silk material. Claire had painted a natural look on my face: lipstick shade not much darker than my usual tone and a very soft touch of blush and mascara. I wore a simple pair of pearl earrings and a delicate gold chain with a crescent moon on my neck. The necklace had belonged to my mother. Emma Adams would have been pleased with every decision Claire made, and I knew with certainty that if she could see me now, she would be smiling. She especially would have been proud of Claire's excessive snapping of pictures.

     Grayson looked even better than I had anticipated. I hadn't thought he could possibly become any more attractive, but I was proved drastically wrong, for never had I thought him as alluring as I did in that moment. Black trousers snug in all the right places, his half open tuxedo shirt revealed a white top that had been fitted perfectly to his shape, allowing for the showing off of his fit chest. Crimson tie matching the shade of my dress, only one piece of his look bothered me: his usual tousled hair was combed carefully to one side. It's not that it didn't look good. He could truly pull off any hairdo, but today's tameness of his chestnut curls was not representative of the boyish personality I'd grown to love.

     Speaking animatedly with Calvin, Grayson didn't immediately notice Claire and I's entrance. Silently descending the staircase, I took advantage of the opportunity to study him fixedly in admiration without fear of getting caught. It was the contrasting sophistication of his attire and the trouble-maker smirk and glimmer in his eyes that pulled me in so deeply. Even when he did finally notice us, I struggled to tear my studious gaze. Blue eyes falling on me, the wide smile he had held whilst chatting with his father, disappeared. Face neutral, eyes hard and lips pressed tightly together, for a fleeting moment I feared I had done something to offend him. I just barely had time to shrink shyly under his stare, grasping the white banister for support as the intensity of his gaze turned my legs to jelly.

     In seconds his beam returned, even brighter than before, and instantly my worries melted.

     "Did you succeed in convincing her to wear the heels?" Grayson questioned his mother. The amused sparkle in his eyes told me he already knew the answer.

     Claire huffed, shaking her head as she shot me a defeated side glance. Despite taking on an air of annoyance, her eyes held only joy and pride.

     "She insisted on wearing the outrageously plain pair of flats."

     "They're not outrageous," I countered. "They're comfortable."

     "All the better for me." Grayson chuckled. "With no excuse of sore feet, there's really no reason we won't be able to dance all night long."

     I watched him in horror. I waited for reassurance that he was teasing, but it never came. Of course, it didn't. This was Grayson we were talking about. Rather than reassuring me, with a mad grin he broke into a cheesy dance, a promise of what the night would bring.

     "I've been practicing," he declared.

     I groaned helplessly, but I couldn't repress the smile playing at my lips. "On second thought," I told Claire. "Get me the heels."