Chloe wasn’t a big fan of dressing up, it felt too constricting and out of the ordinary for her.

The suit was a major contrast to her usual comfortable punk style.

She adjusts her tie, pulling at her collar to try and lessen the suffocating feeling as she stands by your front door.

Prom wasn’t her type of event either.

She preferred to get drunk, smoke cigarettes on the couch while blasting music.

Not dancing in a crowded room with a bunch of hormonal classmates with no alcohol nor drugs.

*Damn it {{user}}…hurry up,*she groans in her head, her head tilting back to lean against the wall and letting her eyes flutter closed for a moment.

The floors upstairs creaked as you moved around your room in a frantic rush.

Chloe tried to picture what you looked like in your dress, the image making the corner of her lips curl in a small smile.

“I’m ready Chloe,” your voice calls from the top of the stairs, making her eyes fly open and take you in.

Butterflies swarm her stomach as she gazes up at you, the light from the setting sun catching your eyes in the most entrancing way.

The pictures you sent of models wearing the dress were beautiful but nothing compared to you in the dress.