The ball was today. Well not just today, but in less than an hour.
After a week of dance lessons, dieting, confessions of being in-like, and traveling overseas, I was finally back in my apartment.
I had flown into the Big Apple yesterday and spent the day going over the last minute preparations. Today I was allowed to sleep in before the beauty team burst into my room, assaulting me with various brushes and hot tools.
So now, after almost six torturous hours I was alone in my peaceful solitude.
The stylists were kind enough to deliver the dress to me, so all I had to do was slip it on and I'd be ready. I already had my army of rings adorning my fingers along with some rose gold layered necklaces. I pulled out the billowy white dress from the protector, smoothing it over. It was so smooth and pretty, I just knew I could ruin it so easily.
Note to self, avoid coffee at all costs.
After a little tugging and adjusting along with some frustrated groans due to me not being able to zip it up the first two times, my dress was finally on and secured. And boy was it a nice dress.
The floor length dress was a little risqué in comparison to most fluffy debutante dresses. Risqué as in mine had a V that could easily show the world my tits. But for once in my life I was thankful for small boobs because all I had to worry about was a nip slip. The rest of the dress was pretty standard, sleeveless and floor length. The only other unique factor was the rose gold metallic belts that spiraled just under my bust. It made the dress more... Blake.
I had sat down on the edge of my bed to slip my feet into my heels, when the intercom buzzed. Immediately my heart thudded slightly at the sound.
You see, I'm not someone who gets nervous when it comes to boys, but I was nervous for today. And the mixture of the ball along with my newfound... feelings, it was going to be a stressful situation.
I finally managed to secure my heels, when I heard my elevator ding. The little idiot wasn't patient enough to wait for me it seems. So I inhaled deeply, and briskly walked out of my room to greet Clark.
"Come on Clark, don't they teach patience in England?" I called out to him as I rounded the corner, him still not in my view.
"Graham, patience is a path to fai- wow." Clark trailed off, as he watched me enter the room. Immediately I narrowed my eyes at him.
"What?"
"You look great Graham," He smirked at me, sliding his hands into his pocket. He himself looked amazing, his dark suit, crisp white button up, black tie, and shiny Italian shoes. His hair was for once pushed back neatly and not in the purposefully messy way he styled it as.
"Well you know what they call me, Beautiful Blake and- uh, Great Graham." I said awkwardly. I still was bad at receiving compliments it seemed.
"Come on Blake, the correct thing to say is 'Thanks Clark, you too look especially sexy today.'" Clark switched his deep voice to a high pitched American accent.
YOU ARE READING
The Elites
Teen FictionAfter flying overseas to enroll in a prestigious boarding school, Blake Graham assumes that she can finally catch a break. Instead, she encounters the boy who she fought with almost every day as a child. After moving back to England, then over to...