I lay on my bed, still in my athletic clothes when a buzz from my phone interrupts my intense staring contest with the ceiling.
A short string of text messages from my friend, Dahlia, illuminates my phone.
Dahlia: Hey hey hey
Dahlia: This is lowkey a random question but are u going to the end-of-11th-grade dance anytime soon?
Dahlia: It's, like, tomorrow.
Dahlia: You better come! I'm going with my boyfriend, so yeah... you can come with us if you'd like!
Holy shit. I forgot about the dance completely.
I pause for a second, staring at the screen. Going with Dahlia and Aadhi could mean playing the third wheel to their public displays of affection... again. I mean, I love them both, but do I want to spend my night dodging their make-out sessions in the corner?
Ugh, I have nothing else planned anyway.
I reread the messages a few more times before typing back.
Me: I completely forgot about the dance lol!
Me: I'll come with you two, but just let me know what you're wearing. It's formal, right?
Lightning quick, Dahlia responds.
Dahlia: Of course you forgot. Why am I not surprised? [rolling eyes emoji]
Dahlia: Anyway, I'm planning to wear a simple blue dress with silver jewelry, and maybe a small tiara. Nothing much.
Me: lol, forgetting stuff is my superpower. But yeah, I'll go. Are you sure your tiara isn't made of diamonds, though?
I roll my eyes playfully at Dahlia's response because, of course, Dahlia's 'simple' is probably still dripping in enough glitter to make a disco ball jealous.
I wonder if that guy from the tennis match is going. Theo, right? He seemed like the dance-going type... or at least the type who'd get dragged to one. Whatever. This is about me, not some guy I met for two seconds.
But for all I know, he could be someone who has a girlfriend, goes to a different school, and has nothing to do with Kiara West, the tennis player with nothing better to do.
I sigh softly at my screen, my snarky remark about Dahlia's diamond jewelry still hovering over my keyboard.
Me: OK, I'll go.
Me: But PLEASE don't start judging my outfit. I'm not a princess like you are.
Me: Love you!
The screen stays fixed like that for a moment, but then Dahlia's response comes up.
Dahlia: I'll see you there, then!
Dahlia: Love you too, Ari!
Well, there we go, I guess. A dance.
My alarm clock ringing the next day has me waking up in a haze.
"Mmmph?" I mumble sleeply, brushing my fingers through my incredibly knotted hair. I glance at the digital clock on my bedside. 10:07 AM.
For a tennis player who wakes up at 5 AM for her matches, I'm a log whenever I sleep. Thank God for weekends. I'm halfway through deciding whether to hit snooze or not when the sudden conversation with Dahlia comes to me.
The dance.
Oh god, what do I wear? I'll be lucky if I can find a decent pair of jeans, let alone an entire dress for one of the most important parties of my life.
OK, maybe not my life, but, you get the point.
Getting up grudgingly, I head into my bathroom and meet eyes with my half-awake self. My loose waves are sticking up at all angles, my brown eyes are drooping, and one of my earrings is missing. Wonderful.
I crane my neck to glance at my clock once more, now reading 10:15 AM.
The dance starts at 7, and ends at 10. There's plenty of time up until then, right?
Plenty of time, my ass.
Thankfully, I already picked out my jewelry and washed my hair, so I have much less to worry about for my procrastinating self.
I stare at the contents of my closet, none of which scream 'end-of-11th-grade-dance-worthy.' I don't even know why I'm putting so much thought into this. It's just a dance.
I rifle through various dresses from past theatre performances, and I seriously consider wearing my Mary Poppins outfit for some decency, but then I catch my eye on a piece of green fabric sticking out from underneath an old cardboard box.
After yanking on it and nearly stumbling backward, I pull out a spaghetti-strapped green dress with a v-neck cut and flowy fabric all the way to the floor. It's beautiful.
I don't remember purchasing it, but oh well. I slip on the dress, which to my relief, fits on perfectly like a glove. Smoothing out the fabric, I remove the large crease in the center before glancing in the mirror.
I pin my loose waves in a half-up-half-down hairstyle, leaving small sections framing my face. After, I add silver jewelry to my hair, wrists, ears, and neck. It's not too bad for having 30 minutes to come up with an outfit.
"Alright, Kiara," I mutter, adjusting the earrings for the third time. "You can do this. It's just a dance...with way too many people you barely know. No big deal."
Overthinking is my middle name, after all.
I'm about to head downstairs when I'm suddenly hyper-aware of my bare feet. Running back to the depths of my closet, I rummage through a pile of shoes at the bottom of my closet.
Why do I only own sneakers and boots? I grab the first pair of heels I find, praying they'll match as time ticks away.
I head downstairs, where I find Mom with her camera again, this time an actual phone, snapping photos of me at every angle like I'm some model. I smile before heading out to my car, keys in one hand and phone in the other.
Once I get into my car, I sit there, fully dressed, looking at myself in the rearview mirror. For a second, I wonder if this is too much.
What if people stare for all the wrong reasons?
What if I don't fit in with the rest?
I push the thoughts aside hastily, starting the car.
A/n: Will the night go well?
Or will it fail miserably???
Stick around to find out mwahaha hahaha
