Hey there. I haven't updated in a few weeks, and I guess (hope) that some of you have been eagerly awaiting a new chapter! And I, always a disappointer, give you a short, cheesy, silly little filler. Humor me.
Also—in the second chapter I said they were nineteen. Then in the next chapter I said they were almost eighteen. To clarify: THESE GO IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER. Austin and Ally are both almost eighteen. Thank you to PrincessVenture for calling my bluff!
Thanks to everyone that reviewed—especially those of you that reviewed long juicy reviews—and helped me get past my goal of 26. 28 now. Coolio.
Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING. Except El. God, I swear I didn't know Disney was going to name THEIR new character Elle right after I named MY new character El. Seriously took some shine off my proudness of her. Anyway, don't sue me, thanks.
"Ally Dawson!"
There were literally only two people in the world that would ever call her name that enthusiastically, and one of them was at her side. Austin was squeezing her fingers just too tightly, his face positively lighting up at the foreign prospect of going to this dance with a girlfriend. A girlfriend who was Ally Dawson, nonetheless. His eyes shifted to hers, twinkling with an amount excitement that was pretty much at the tipping point of being creepy. Her eyes, on the other hand, warned him not to offend anybody—anybody was the girl that was eagerly making her way towards the couple.
El never failed to amuse them.
She came striding up towards them in an outfit that was so yellow it hurt Ally's eyes, her hair fluttering behind her like a fish tail attached to the back of her head. Honestly? El was very pretty. Ally was ashamed to get subconscious of her own look tonight, but she did—she was dressed in blue, like a royal-ish blue, her skirt flowing down to her knees and her chest embossed with some type of expensive-looking-but-probably-cheap silver design. For lack of better phrasing.
Austin's tie was red. Figures.
He squeezed her fingers right as El crushed her in a bear hug, making Ally feel like some type of weird human sandwich or something. She didn't mean to, and she didn't really care, but she noticed that El seemed very alone. No date? That was unusual for her. El was a guy magnet with the blinding grin of hers. Before Ally could ask, El had already decided to establish a conversation.
"So glad you made it!" she gushed, perfectly manicured little fingernails digging into Ally's shoulders. "Let me look at you—gosh, you look totally gorgeous!"
Ally blushed. Then she winced, because Austin's fingers were totally uncomfortably tight around hers.
She twisted her poor little hand out of his grip. "So do you," she replied politely, ignoring Austin's reluctance to letting her hand free. "I like your…hair."
El tossed it over her shoulder in a stereotypical gesture that was probably supposed to be casual, but was really just for effect. "Thanks!" A lock twirled around her pinkie. "I spent like twenty minutes blow drying. Oh-em-gee, I wish my hair was as naturally curly as yours! Did you get your ombré redone? It looks totally cute, but don't wear it straight. Too dramatic, dark to blonde and all that. I'm considering ombreing mine, but I don't know, I don't like have curls all that often and I think it mostly only works with curls. Do you like my dress?"
Ally didn't answer, because she started tuning out at naturally curly.
She heard Austin clear his throat, and she felt his hand wrap around hers again. "Listen, El, thanks for the chat. We'll see you later, okay?"
"Okay!"
And just like that, with a flip of hair, she was gone.
Ally realized only later that she'd forgotten to mention El's no date-ness. And with exactly zero other conversation topics in mind, and her current situation of being at this dance for only the second time (with the same guy [but a completely different relationship]), it, of course, became extremely awkward between she and said guy.
He cleared his throat again (cough drop?) and straightened his jacket, shoulders back. "So, Als…would you like to dance?" He offered her a calloused palm and she took it, only a little reluctantly, and let him tug her out to the dance floor. His right hand cupped her waist and his left tangled with hers, fingers lacing together and palms melding where they touched. It sent shivers radiating through her wrist.
He smiled at her, and she paced her feet to his. She wasn't a good dancer—news flash—but they'd had a ballroom-dancing unit in gym last year, and she knew a few things about waltzing. She looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and every time their eyes locked she felt like she was being…like…remade. Or something like that. It was completely corny, but she couldn't find it in herself her to care.
"So…" Austin said as they stepped together, "Ally Dawson."
She grinned. "Austin Monica."
He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, are we going there?" She twirled beneath his arm. The silk swaying around her knees felt almost as good as his hand around hers. "Yeah, we are."
"Don't make me bring up your middle name, Dawson."
"You don't know my middle name. Moon." (She added his last name after some thought. For effect.)
"Don't be so sure." He brought his face closer to hers. She could feel his breath hot on her neck, and it felt wonderful. "I can get it out of you."
"You most certainly can not—oh…"
She could've picked out the defined shape of his lips in a smirk on her neck. They traveled upwards, beneath her ear, south, along her bare shoulder, springing goosebumps in their wake. Austin really didn't kiss her that much in placed that weren't her face, but she found herself sinfully wishing that he did it more often. She cocked her head and she felt him smirk again, smirking at her pleasure, smirking at the control he had over her. "Mm," she murmured, "yeah, that's a good tactic…"
Then she tripped on her heels, jamming a hand into Austin's ribcage to keep from crashing. It didn't help. She was on the floor anyways.
(She was a bad dancer. Honestly.)
Austin winced and pulled her up. Her face felt embarrassingly red—she was grateful for the dimmed lights of the gym—and her shin throbbed where it had gotten personal with the floor. She brushed off her dress, which was pointless because it hadn't touched the ground, and straightened her hair, which was also pointless because she hadn't fallen more than a foot, and rose to her full height, teetering on those goddamn heels Trish made her wear.
"Not a word," she warned. His lips were pressed tightly together, into a line that hinted at—God forbid—a laugh.
"Sorry." He grinned at her (his nerve, honestly!) and pushed a misplaced curl back out of her face. "It was pretty epic, though."
She punched him—playfully, mind you—in the chest, thinking that maybe, just maybe, dances weren't that depressing at all.
They were voted Cutest Couple. Of senior year.
It was a pretty big deal to Ally, because a) she'd never been voted anything before, and b) she'd never been part of a couple before, either.
It made her feel really, really good. Honestly. Did she feel ashamed? A little bit. She didn't even know they were in the running, or that there was a running, and looking back it made her feel pretty damn stupid. She wasn't even sure if they'd won because they seriously were cute, or because the half of the couple that wasn't her was a pop star, or because the kids in their grade had been waiting since junior year for them to get together. She didn't know. She didn't care, to be honest.
And she got her usual evening anyways—Austin slept over (just slept over. Perv.) He drank warm milk with her, and watched a movie with her, and she snuggled with him instead of with her pajamas. Kissed a few times, together.
"Cutest couple, huh," he said as she curled up against his chest. "Who knew."
Ally smiled, like a real smile, and touched her lips to his. "I did."
Can you say cliché? I bet you can!
Quick test: if you actually read my author's notes, put the word 'dingleberries' somewhere in that review you're going to write. Reviews consisting of just the word 'dingleberries' don't count. Got it? Okay. LET'S BUST THE NON-READERS.
Thanks for the 28 reviews! When I hit 32 I'll start on the next chapter. I swear. What was your favorite part of this chapter? Anything you'd like to see in upcoming ones?
Kay. 32 reviews. GO.
~Mia
