Colors//m.c

Thirty

I feel like this sounds rushed and if you feel like that too I am s soo sorry

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8:18

I hurriedly pinned back my purple hair with a black bobby pin, making sure all strays were diminished. I then looked over my makeup one last time, making sure it was perfected. Mascara paired with glittery eyeliner, and pink tinted chapstick was what coated my face. I felt pretty, for once. I rarely wore makeup, but I really liked how it was done tonight. Not that I always felt like I needed it.

Memories from this past week, and finals seemed to be all I could think about. The whole week was horrid. I ran mainly on Starbucks and two hours of sleep each night, desperately attempting to cram in more studying, constantly reminding myself that my whole future depended on these damn tests. That every step I made lead to everything else, and the looming fact that after these, another obstacle was in my way. That's all there would be.

I heard talking from downstairs, and knew Michael had arrived. I took one last deep breath, smoothing down my dress, which I had loved so much but felt oddly overdressed now, and trying to calm my shaking.

I tried to descend the steps gracefully, like in the movies, but I of course ended up tripping over my converse clad feet, and fell, attempting to grab the banister to steady myself.

"I. Am. Okay." I say as I held the banister precariously, mostly to myself. I then pulled myself back onto my feet, with as much dignity that I could muster, and ran down the steps, my face burning.

My dad laughs loudly, his phone poised in front of him, as he took multiple pictures. I remembered the pictures sitting on my moms dresser. Where they still there?

"I hate you." I roll my eyes, and then my eyes finally fall onto Michael.

He stood by the door, wearing black skin tight skinny jeans, a white button up blazer, a pitch black blazer, and a smile on his face. He nervously ran a hand through his hair, and steps forward, a hand outreached. All of a sudden, an alarming look is placed upon his face, and he opens his mouth to speak.

"Hello?" I say nervously, not wanting Michael to see how badly I was shaking. It was a mixture, of me almost falling down the stairs, and nerves were the cause of that. I had no idea why I was so nervous about tonight though. It was just Michael though.

Exactly.

"Pictures!" Myrcella says excitedly before Michael can speak whatever was on his mind, ushering him towards the bottom of the stairs, and inching me closer to him. "Now, do a cute pose!" She was just like every parent on prom night. But I was thankful. It made me feel like I actually had parents that cared now.

"Yeah, do a cute pose." Michael grins, the alarmed look gone,and puts his hand into a punk rock sign. I follow suit, laughing. So cute.

"I'm not cute. I'm punk rock."

"You guys are idiots." Myrcella says, watching as Dave snaps a picture. "That's going on Facebook."

"No one actually uses Facebook anymore."

They ignore me.

"Now, actually do a cute pose. Like kiss or something."

After ten more minutes of taking picture after picture, they tell us we can go, with a warning to "be good and stay safe." They were like every parent on prom night. Praying their daughter didn't get pregnant, or their son didn't get someone pregnant. Or just praying their kid had a good time.