to explain myself or tell her I'm sorry.
I didn't even do anything.
Holding the flower over the trash, I almost let it go. And then I change my mind. I'm not giving up on this, on her, on anything that I want. I've never been someone who backs down, and I'm not going to start now.
Slipping into my tux, I gel my hair, and spray my neck with some cologne. I'm going to the prom anyway, stag, and I don't even give a shit. I'm leaving my options open.
Maybe I'll get lucky. Maybe I'll get a chance to right all of the wrong she feels.
The sign above the door reads, Winter In May. There are snowflakes dangling from the ceiling, and fake snow sprinkled around the floor. Long, flowing strings of garland, full of big silver flowers and sparkling leaves, drape from one corner of the room to the next.
The tables have dark blue covers, and more bright white snowflakes speckle the open space between the plates. It's fucking ridiculous, if you ask me.
No one is asking you.
Standing in the doorway, the music thumps through my chest as I look around the room. A few of my football buddies are standing against the far wall waiting in line with their girlfriends for a photo.
The smiles I see aren't excitement for a photo to remember the night. The smiles are for the simple fact they're getting some ass tonight.
Moving my eyes back across the room, most of the tables are empty. Everyone is either dancing or in the photo line. I wave at a few friends, looking past them, hoping she's here.
And then I see what I want, the whole reason I'm even standing here right now.
Dalia.
Fuck, she looks so damn beautiful. Her dress is red with a flower pattern tracing the right thigh and across the front edge. The dress is covered by a sheer black fabric, giving it a shadow that flickers as she moves.
Stunning. That's the only word that comes to mind. The only word that rightfully describes the beauty on the other side of the room.
My heart starts to race as I watch her closely. Her slow movements. The way she gently touches her lips with the pad of her finger. The way she holds her belly right before she giggles, and how her head falls back at the same time. The delicate swipe of her finger as it pulls a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and how her eyes pay attention to whoever she’s talking too. It doesn't matter who you are, she's looking at you.
All of it. Every last drop makes her who she is. It's mesmerizing.
She's smiling as she dances with Kira, tipping her head back to laugh out loud. She doesn't look angry or sad, and that's perfect. I need her smiling like that, it'll make it easier for me to approach her, and talk to her.
Working my way around the room, I give lame waves, and half smiles to teammates so I can get closer to Dalia. My mind isn't on who I should be seen with, my mind is only on her.
She doesn't notice me. So I stand back, and wait for the right moment to cut in. It doesn't take long, the song ends after a minute, and she slows down, taking a step back to get some air.
“Dalia,” I say, reaching out and touching her shoulder.
She jerks, spinning around fast. Her eyes expand wide as saucers.
She doesn't say a word to me, she just turns her shoulder and looks the other way.
It hurts. To be disregarded, her eyes full of regret and disdain send needles through my heart. My hope was a smile, instead I got the cold shoulder.
Leaning into Kira, she whispers something in her ear. I don't know what it is, but the look on her face tells me she's wondering what the hell I'm even doing here.
I'm here for you, and only you.
“I get it,” I say, passively holding my hands up. “You don't want to see me, and I completely understand that. All I'm asking is for a few minutes, I really just want to talk, that's it.” I reach for her again, but not with the intention to touch her. It's to show her I'm here, but I know I fucked up.
Kira steps between us, and her jaw cocks to one side. “I told you already, Lyle, stay away from her. If Dalia wanted to talk to you, she would have already. Take