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Kat
It is as if I'd forgotten how to breathe, ironic as my date struggles to take every breathe he needs. The dim lights, the awkward clusters of people, the struggling dj who obviously had no clue as to what he was doing, they all contributed to the constriction of my throat.
Anxiety is this way sometimes; a situation, meant to be very enjoyable, is ruined by a few, seemingly unimportant details.
Why am I not having fun yet?
Why am I not dancing yet?
Luke agreed to go with you.
Why do I feel like I'm suffocating?
"Hey," Luke's warm voice whispers next to my ear, startling me as he had wandered off a few moments ago, "I just wanted to grab you something sweet. They have a little candy bar set up outside the gym." His giggle is contagious as his fingers press a wrapped chocolate into my palm.
"Thank you," I manage to say, unwrapping it with trembling fingers and popping the candy into my mouth.
"You doing alright?" He asks when I finish the sweet, offering a hand and a smile to me.
"I think so," I answer honestly, but I'm still restless, unsure of why I'm so damn anxious all of a sudden. Try to ignore it, Kat, it's happened before. Please don't ruin prom for yourself.
"You really do look beautiful in blue, Kat." His voice is soft as he wraps a hesitant hand around my waist, indirectly asking for a dance as the slow melody of an unfamiliar song begins.
Thankful for the dim light, and ungrateful for the knot forming in my stomach, I blush and smile up at him, snaking my arms around his neck loosely.
"You look handsome," I whisper back, unknowingly wrapping a finger around one of his longer curls. Feeling a cold drop in my stomach as I realize what I'm doing, I loosen my finger, "Sorry." I murmur.
He shrugs, not seeming to know what I'm apologizing for. A few moments later, his fingers start tracing patterns across my dress. I glance up at him and he's gazing off into the distance, lost in thought, a soft frown upon his lips.
"You okay...?" I raise a brow, nervously biting my lip, hoping my fingers aren't trembling as much anymore.
He looks back down at me, letting out a long breath through his nose, once again shrugging. He looks at the floor, then back into my eyes, before leaning down a little so that his mouth is level with my ear.
"Don't fret over me, pretty girl, remember?" He chuckles then, tracing my cheek with his thumb before sighing again, breaking away from me as the song ends, "I need to use the restroom, excuse me."
I watch him go, having a strong suspicion that he may be lying to me. Chastising myself for not trusting him, I attempt to find any of my other acquaintances, with no such luck however. Calum doesn't "do" dances (in his words), Michael and his friends were here come to think of it, but who knows where they are now.
