Seventeen-year-old Hazel never saw having a sick mom in her future. And the last thing she expected was for her new next-door neighbor to give her a checklist that would change everything.
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After Hazel Winter's mom got sick, all emotion vanishe...
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The thought of going to the winter formal was pure and utter torture. Even though I'm going with River, I'm still dreading that I'll have to be in a hot and stuffy gym watching people I barely know bump and grind all night.
Honestly, I'd rather watch paint dry.
Letting out a huff into the mirror, I slim out the pink dress that I now am questioning why I bought in the first place. I wasn't self-conscious at the store with Joy, but now as I see the satin material cling to every curve of my body, I'm starting to change my mind. I've never been the kind of girl to wear dresses. I only wear them on special occasions, but right now, I only want to crawl into a pair of sweatpants. This dress is so tight that it's uncomfortable.
River got here ten minutes ago, but I haven't been able to force my legs to walk downstairs. I've been rooted in front of my mirror analyzing every detail about myself.
Why should I be nervous? River has definitely seen every section of my body, so why does it feel like I'm about to throw up?
Ugh, I'm thinking too much into this.
Grabbing my phone off my bed, I text River to come upstairs. I don't want to do the cheesy walk-down-the-staircase ordeal, so I wait patiently until my door creaks open and River steps inside.
He's in a light gray suit with a pink tie to match my dress, carrying a plastic bag in one hand and a corsage in the other. His hair has that gel again, taming all of those curls on top of his head into perfect ringlets. If it weren't for his eyes practically bugging out of his head right now, I probably would have complimented him, but he currently looks like he might pass out.
I'm feeling even more self-conscious than I did a minute ago, so I cross my arms over my chest and stare at the black heels on my feet.
"Well," River says triumphantly, "you really took the pop of color thing I said and ran with it, didn't you?"
My eyes dart up to meet his. "Is that a good or a bad thing?"
"Good," he states. "Very good. You're insanely beautiful."
Walking over to the edge of my bed, he sets the plastic bag down on top of the comforter and takes the corsage out, grabbing my wrist to slide it on for me gently.
"I feel bad," I admit. "I didn't get you the flower thing."
"The flower thing?" he asks, amused.
"Yeah, like, the thing that goes onto your suit jacket. I forgot about it."
"Hazel, it's fine. I'm not concerned about the flower thing. Knowing you'll be on my arm tonight looking like this is enough for me." He waves his hand up and down my body, and my skin practically bursts into flames. "You even curled your hair. Wow."
"Don't get used to it," I tease.
He plops down on my comforter and rests back on his elbows, his long, slender legs hanging off the side. His body looks very inviting, and he can tell I'm checking him out because he rolls his eyes and sends me a knowing smile. "Stop looking at me like that," he says.
