UNEDITED
After violating campus rules and committing student misconduct, twenty-three-year-old Warren Ashford is deep trouble and at risk of losing his volleyball scholarship -- the one thing he truly values other than his bad boy reputation, and hi...
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Nova
"Haze," Warren says, "you look weird dressed in a bridesmaid dress."
Everyone looks at Hazel. She's wearing a navy-blue micro-pleated mesh halter dress that reaches down to the floor in cascading layers of fabric. It looks absolutely stunning on her, but Warren actually has a point. After seeing a glimpse of her in her wedding dress, the dark colour and different style is an odd sight.
"It makes sense," Julia inputs, running a hand over the dress she's wearing. While the colour is identical to the one Hazel is wearing, the style is different. It's shorter, stopping mid-calf, and it's made of chiffon that's intertwined with silver sparkles. The neckline is crisscrossed with a lattice-like trim, giving modern detail to a classic silhouette.
"Can you repeat that, Julia?" Warren asks. "East won't believe his ears when I tell him you actually agreed with me."
While the group laughs, I shake my head and glance at myself in the mirror. My dress is the one that differentiates the most from the others, and it makes me feel like a goddess. It's short – resting just above my knees – and the one-shoulder and cascading side gather both cast a magical illusion around my figure, making the dress look tight, but not too tight. I adore the dress, and every five minutes I keep silently wishing that this will be the one Hazel decides on. Yes, the other dresses are beautiful, but this one is stunning – and I rarely take pleasure in swooning over a dress.
Regarding swooning...I also can't stop myself from sneaking glances at Warren. All the men are dressed in the same suit. He, however, pulls it off best. It's a light beige suit, tied together with a navy-blue dress shirt and a coral-coloured tie, matching the nautical theme perfectly.
Looking away from the mirror, I glance over my shoulder at him. I know I need to listen to the logical side of my mind and stop looking at him or else I'm going to suffer the consequences of him catching me. So that's exactly what I begin to do. But just as I'm beginning to turn away, he looks in my direction and our eyes connect.
My heart lurches in my chest. The look in his eyes is unfathomable, saturated with hunger and lust and...and something I can't quite read.
The idea of him wanting me terrifies me. If that's what he's thinking, anyway. There's a chance I might be assessing this situation wrongly.
With that thought, I turn back to the mirror and start inspecting the beige high heels I'm wearing. My mind begins to obsess over how well they match Warren's suit, and I tell it to shut up.
I'd normally figure out this situation and resolve it, but I can't handle the different outcomes. As far as I know, Warren still thinks I hate him, which is a ridiculous assumption on his part. How could I still hate him after spending so much time with him? It's like Hazel told me: There's a connection between us whether I like it or not. And I have to admit, I'm liking it more than I hate it.
