The Player Next Door.

Chapter 15// Here Comes Prom

Tuesday was horrible, and by every means.

But that was three days ago. Now I have people smiling whenever they see me, but I still put the contacts on.

I don't know why.

So here I am, laying on my bed doing nothing, and waiting for mom to and I quote, "collect her equipment".

This is going to be a long two hours.

***

"Ow!"

"Stop moving Riley! We have to finish curling your hair!"

"Mom, we still have a whole hour and a half!"

***

"Ow!"

"Stop moving, the eye-liner will get ruined!"

"How can women not feel pain when a pencil is directly less than half a centimeter away from their eye-balls?!"

"Geez, calm down!"

***

"OW!"

"This is the third time you've said it."

"This is the most pain I've felt in my life! How can women hold in their screams when their hair is literally ripped from their legs?!"

"We're magnificent creatures."

***

"Are we done yet?"

"Wait... yes, yes we are. We are finally done." She sighs, slumping on my bed.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, not believing this was me. As cliché as it my sound, the reflection looks nothing like me. I look... different?

I have to stay modest, my friends.

My jet-black hair was in loose curls, and two occupying my shoulders. It fell on my white leather jacket, and as mom says it brought the colors of my eyes. She managed to persuade me in not wearing my contacts, so I won't have them today.

The dress matched my heeled white high-tops, and they had those silver studs on the sides.

My make-up was set naturally, and mom only added mascara and a winged eye-liner. After a lot of arguments, she made me put lip-gloss.

At least I didn't put nail polish.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings.

Sh*t. What do I do now? Austin's here! What if he doesn't like my dress? What if he doesn't like my make-up? What if the perfume's too much? What if-

"Riley, stop overreacting and enjoy the moment." Mom says, walking downstairs.

I slip my phone in the jacket's pocket and follow her. "How am I supposed to stay calm? What if something happens in prom? What if someone spills punch on my dress? Oh I'll definitely punch that person. Ooh! I just made a pun!" I look at mom, smiling like an idiot, which soon falters as mom was giving me a blank stare.

Okay, I tend to ramble when I'm nervous.

I run to the door, while mom hides in the kitchen.

Sometimes my mom is a child.

"Good luck!" She whispers, giving me a thumbs up.

Well, the thumbs up won't help my anxiety!

My fingers captured the doorknob, twisting it slowly while a volcano of butterflies erupted in my stomach. My heart was back flipping like it was on a dodgy street, and my brain was going fuzzy like I just drank Vodka.