Girl Meets Trouble #Wattys2015

Chapter 20: They Don't Know About Us (Part One)

I didn't sleep all-night.

And I don't think I need a mirror to confirm there are dark eyebags under my eyes from all the anxiety. Groggily standing up from the bed, I head off to the kitchen and prepare myself a breakfast, taking a sip of tea to soothe my nerves.

"Did you get enough sleep last night?" Cassie asks me as she takes the last bite of her waffle.

"Oh." I stiffen when I notice her scrutinizing my face. "Yes. Yes, I did. Plenty of sleep. Loads."

"Oh, shut up. You did not!" She retorts, pointing at me with her fork. Crap, my sister knows me so well.

"Alright, little miss honest, I did not," I confess resignedly. "Happy now?"

"Your skin looks horrible, by the way," she teases.

"So sweet of you to say, Cassie. Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Cassie shrugs. "The real question is: what are you going to do about it?"

"About what?"

"My graduation," she replies sarcastically. "Duh. Of course about the party, Teddy!"

There it is again. The magic word. I hear Cassie say "party" and my body is strung up in a state of anxiety.

Oh God, what am I getting into?

I imagine a flock of paparazzi, a mob of oglers snapping pictures of me, trying to find something to mock and suddenly my stomach flips. I feel a stab of frustration at myself. Why hadn't I thought this through?

A part of me rejoices that Harry is not ashamed to be seen with me in public. I mean, I'm not famous. I don't own a mansion in Beverly Hills. I don't own some fancy German car. But I haven't been much to any party and I'm feeling light-headed with nerves, because I have no idea what to expect.

I take a swig of cold water and try to fight my way through my swirling thoughts.

Around noon, we hear a knock on the door and my heart begins to thump against my ribs, like it might suddenly escape from my chest.

Is that Harry? I wonder to myself. But it can't be. He's busy. He must have a show somewhere right now. Who could it be?

Rushing towards downstairs, I open the door and see a young man in his middle twenties dressed in a delivery man's uniform.

"Is Ms. Teddy Wyatt living here?"

"Yes, that's me."

"You received a package from Mr. Mick Greenberg," he tells me formally and offers me a box wrapped in white and red satin ribbons.

"Wait, but I don't know anyone named..."

"The package was sent specifically to you, ma'am," he tells me.

The delivery man is still shoving the box towards me and I had no choice but to accept it. He asks me to sign a piece of paper and with my mind buzzing with questions, I take the pen and affix my signature.

Mick Greenberg. Mick Greenberg. Mick Greenberg. Mick... Wait. Could it possibly be---

Oh God. It's him.

Opening the box and removing the ribbons with shaky fingers, my body is pulsing with curiosity to see the package. When I finally opened it and saw what was inside, I stood speechless and mesmerized.

I pulled it out and found the most stunning Vera Wang dress I have ever seen.

The white chiffon fabric, the one-shoulder neckline, the silver ruffles running through the skirt and everything about it looked perfect. It looks breathtaking.