Stella was shipped off to a boarding school for troubled kids after her foster parents died. For the next seven years, that is where she's been, but she's back, and things are not the same as they were before.
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"You want me to teach you how to dance?" I said, my mouth falling open in surprise.
"You make it sound pathetic," Dimitri said, rolling his eyes.
"Because it is."
"Ugh, are you gonna do it or not?"
"I will," I said simply.
"Ok, fine. If you're not, then forget it," Dimitri said, ready to walk away.
"I said that I will," I repeated.
"What, really?" He said, looking back at me.
"Yeah, but why me? Wouldn't it be better for you to get, I don't know, like a cute private dance instructor?" I thought out loud, thinking that's something he would do.
"I don't feel like going through all that trouble, and I have like 2 other galas that I need to show up at; I can't be stumbling around when dancing with my dates."
"Weird flex, but ok," I said, rolling my eyes.
I'm in my bathroom following a tutorial on YouTube on how to silk press my hair. I'm on my last piece of hair, running the comb through, the flat iron chasing behind it. I looked at myself in the mirror and chuckled, remembering having to smuggle in hair supplies that use heat, getting them as straight as possible and without getting heat damage at the boarding school.
I ran it through one more time before figuring that it was perfect. After unplugging the iron, I flattened my hair, running my hands through it. It's been a long time since I put real effort into my hair. At the boarding school, we all had to wear four hairstyles: pigtails, ponytails, braided back, and back buns, never high buns. As you can tell, this made it extremely hard for the black girl population in school.
So I found it easier keeping it as straight as possible by braiding it at night and taking it out in the morning, getting effortless waves. Because of this, my hair grew quite a bit, almost to my mid-back when straight.
"Stella! I swear, I will leave you!" Dimitri yelled from downstairs.
"Ugh, Coming!" I walked down the stairs, trying not to trip from the heels and the tight fit of the dress. The dress is long black and hugs my curves, with no sleeves and a high neckline. My problem with this dress was that it was too simple, and it made me look a lot older than I actually am, but it's really nice.
As I walked down the stairs, my heels clicking on the steps, I saw Dimitri glance up at me, then doing a double take. He looked at me, almost like he was confused.
"What?" I said, my eyebrows scrunched.
"Nothing; I just wasn't expecting you to wear something like that."
"Then what did you expect me to wear?"
"I don't know, either, like a pantsuit or something egregiously skimpy." I opened my mouth about to say something, then, thinking it was better not to. I walked past him and out the door.
