I don't want to brag. Really, I don't. But I look hot. My usually fickle hair has decided to fall just right, cascading down my back in loose tendrils. The dress I had worn for formal clings in all the right places, the dipping neckline revealing just enough cleavage. I've always liked this dress. It's black and pretty straight forward, but when it catches the light just right, the shimmering slip underneath flashes. I feel like an old movie star in this dress; a long silhouette clinging to my shape without strangling it. Unlike other women, who can wear tight dresses and look stunning in them, I always look a bit like a disproportionate sausage in them. Either they're too small and fit my waist and hips while the top of me topples over the fabric like an overfilled muffin, or the dress hangs uncomfortably loose around my middle, and I always feel as if I'm slipping out of my casing. So, while I can't necessarily wear the dresses that Lex is accustomed to seeing, I feel powerful in my flowing black dress. I feel classic.

I'm wearing more makeup than usual, pulling out the fake eyelashes so if I cry I won't ruin Lex's tuxedo. I dab on a bit of the brightest red lipstick you've ever seen in your life and take a moment, making sure I'm ready.

I hear a knock on the door as I'm trying to find where exactly my ear was pierced when I was twelve so I can put a dangling silver earring in. "Come in!" I yell from the room.

"You know, for someone who experienced something particularly traumatizing, you sure are cavalier about keeping your door unlocked." I can hear Lex stepping over the boxes I haven't fully unpacked in my living room. "You decent?"

"Hardly." I mutter under my breath.

"What?"

"Yes." He steps into my room and looks at my tangled bedsheets. There are clothes strewn about and a paper bag which, at one point, held a burger and fries. "Jesus, Sarah."

"You have the capability to walk out, don't you?" He ignores me and slips around to the edge of my bed where he gathers all the clothes into one pile and shoves it to the side. He then picks up the paper bag, covered in stale grease.

"What was in here?"

"Dinner, duh."

"From when?"

"Three days ago." This I say with a bit of shame, giving up on my earrings so I can turn to shoo him out of the room. He finally turns to me as I stand.

"I thought you said you had nothing to wear."

"I lied."

"Clearly." He lets his eyes trail down my body, though I can't tell what he makes of what he sees. He then looks down at his watch. "I have a car waiting for us downstairs. Do you have shoes?" I nod. "Good. Let's get going then. At least so I don't have to stand in this mess anymore." I shrug and root around my mess, looking for the heels with the thin stems. I take care to put them on outside my door, afraid that walking through my room in such high heels would result in a broken neck. Walking down to the street, I clutch my bag in one hand and my stubborn earrings in the other.

Lex has hired a limo, a fairly predictable billionaire move. It actually surprises me how Lex could afford this service every day, but seems to prefer driving his little un-fun car. He seems to like being behind a wheel, to blast his weird techno music into the air whipping past.

I've never been in a limo before. Some of my friends wanted to spring for one for Prom when we were younger, but it never actually happened. Instead we went in my friend's boyfriend's truck. I was pressed awkwardly against my date, a boy who I had never had a conversation with before that night. He smelled of sweat and a flimsy sheen of deodorant. And something more. Something about the rented tux had made him smell distinctly out of place. It felt as if a stranger was sitting next to me, the smell alienating me. Just this little formal attire, doused in cheap cologne from the department store where he had rented it, clashing with the nervous sweat seeping past his dress shirt, seemed to remind me more than usual how out of his depth he was. How out of our depth we both were. It seemed to me ridiculous how normal he could seem in jeans and a tee shirt, but stuffed into pressed pants he became something else entirely. And then I became distinctly aware of the way I must smell; like hairspray and burnt hair from the curling iron as well as the must of powdery makeup and I became so very afraid that he could smell how nervous I was too. I felt so much more anxious when I could feel his anxiety coming off in droves. Everything about us felt unnatural at that moment.

I slide into the back seat of the limo, looking for a seat belt to fasten. "What are you doing?"

"Safety first."

"Oh, no no no. That isn't proper limousine etiquette." I had finally found the thin life saving strip only to have Lex reach over and yank it out of my hand. His body leans into mine to reach across me and for one brief moment I imagine keeping him there, of feeling that weight against me for just a bit longer. But he pulls away quickly, leaning back in his seat. I know I'm blushing, so I focus on my earrings, trying to find where the doctor pierced my ears when I was twelve. "Do you need help?" I start to shake my head no, but he sidles up next to me and holds out his hand for my earrings. He turns to face me and gingerly takes my earlobe in his fingers, gently pushing the earring through and clasping the back of it. The next ear he has more trouble with, the space between his eyebrows crinkling in concentration. I look at him, study him, notice the way his mouth settles when he isn't thinking about how he looks. He's got beautiful cheekbones, I realize. Ones which cut across and make an otherwise smooth surface structured. He's wearing a tux, one which definitely isn't rented. It's very clearly tailored, as it fits the slope of his shoulders just right. And before I can help myself I lean in. Because I want to know if he smells like my date to prom did. I inhale without thinking and feel him stiffen, fingertips pausing on my earlobe. He smells so much like himself in the tux I almost sigh. "What are you doing?" He breathes.

My nose is inches from his throat, which bobs slightly. "I don't know." I say, though I don't move. Part of me is scared to look into his eyes and another part of me, one which I don't want to acknowledge, is too fascinated to pull back. His hand begins to move, trailing from my ear to my chin. He pushes on my throat gently, guiding my head up to look him in the eye.

"Sarah, don't." I nod but without any conviction. He doesn't look convinced and still holds my throat in his hand. "Do you want me to kiss you?" The way he says it is detached, as if he were a child asking why the sky is blue. He doesn't sound as if he has any opinion of the potential answer, only that he has some sort of noncommittal curiosity.

But while I should be cautious of such a tone, something deep within me urges me to be open, as if such openness will be rewarded. After all, if I say no, then he will definitely not kiss me, (at least, I should hope so). But if I say yes, then he must decide. "Yes." He looks down at my lips, using his thumb to smudge the cherry red. "I think you want to kiss me too." I say.

His eyes snap back up to mine and I know I've made a mistake. Not because I was wrong, but because I was right. And he seems scared to have discovered that in himself. He begins to pull away but I touch my fingers to his wrist and he lingers, looking down at me with newly vulnerable eyes. "Go ahead." I say, losing any hope of turning back. His hand trails up the back of my neck and pulls my head in line with his own.

"You're right. I want to kiss you." The tip of my tongue becomes electrified as everything in me heats. "But you have to understand, kissing you will mean a lot more to you than it will to me."I know he's right. I know I'll hate myself in the morning. I know I'll only end up with that churning in my stomach which won't go away.

But I don't know what his lips feel like against my own, and the curiosity is killing me.

I push forward, one breath away from knowing for sure.

The car is stopping. I can feel it in the way both mine and Lex's bodies move slightly without a seat belt to hold us in. I can hear the brakes squeaking. I pull back, taking the backing to my earring out of Lex's hand and slipping it on before the door next to Lex is opened for him. "Then I guess we probably shouldn't." I say, pretending I wouldn't have kissed him even if the car hadn't arrived at our destination. He corrects his suit jacket so it lays flat on his chest and turns to leave, holding out a hand once he's standing to lead me into the gala.

What a gentleman.