Her white corsage, specks of periwinkle and powder blue adorning each delicately placed petal, pinned to her wrist with an equally blue ribbon, was the main victim of her incessant fidgeting, nimble fingers pulling and tearing as she waited around by the door.

Her parents were long gone, her father chaperoning the prom and her mother likely at some book or tennis club, she couldn’t be bothered to care when it hurt with every breath she took, her cinched waist proving to be more uncomfortable than shed originally intended when aimlessly browsing prom dresses the week prior. Her hands wrung tiredlessly against the delicate floral patterns of blue and white, glancing from time to time at the grandfather clock which seemed to tick non-stop.

He should be here by now. The idea of being stood up rang in her head, a horrible idea that just about brought tears to her big eyes.

A knock at the grand hardwood door changed her focus immediatly, moving in gentle glides to the door to push it open, barely peeking out into the foggy February air. St. Christopher, the necklace he wore and never took off, not to bathe not to fight, for nothing. A cigarette hung out of the corner of his mouth, stubble dotting above and below his soft lips, his eyes grazing over her like she was a deer, meat whilst he was the predator.

Dallas Winston didnt do prom, hell he didnt do school most of the time. But he would for her, he would if it meant shed pull that scowl off her pretty face for even a moment. He wasnt dressed up, just wearing casual leather and jeans, but she couldnt bring herself to care when he looked down at her like she was the prize pony at a horse competition, like she was gods gift to the world made by his own hand. Her record spun, the Turtles, some yuppie group shed tried to introduce Dallas to, which he refused.

“you showed me how to do exactly what you do how I fell in love with you”