Hazy

part xix - the ball

          "I really should be practising -" 

          "Oh shut up, and stay still. Your hair and make-up isn't finished and there isn't that much space for us to move around!" 

We're in my small dorm room - Jemma, Rydel and myself. Jemma has my cheeks firmly between her hands while she eyes her handiwork, and Rydel tugs as my short hair with curling tongs. They both were adamant that I couldn't get ready for the ball myself, and took it upon themselves to make me presentable. 

Ross was supposed to get me about 10 minutes ago now, and I was anxious only now getting dressed with their permission.

I step into my dress and Rydel tugs the zip up, the bodice hugging my body, accentuating my curves and breasts. It was black satin and is cool against my skin. I take my reflection in and am a little shocked. My blunt brown hair looks silkly like the material of the dress, my exotic blue-green eyes drawn out with whatever Jemma had put on my face. The dress itself is sleeveless, and makes my skin look porcelain and smooth, the skirt is flowy and fuller to allow me to sit and play - after all, that is the idea of the night...

But other ideas came to mind, looking at myself who looks fiercely pretty and confident. 

         "You look hot," Jemma confirms my thoughts.

         "I know." 

They laugh at my response, and help me into my shoes. 

I go to pick up my guitar case but Rydel swats my hand away, "Just focus on getting down those stairs..." 

And I did. 

We make it to the front of the dorms and Ross, spotting us through the glass door, opens the door for me. The night air brushes my exposed collar bones and arms, and I shiver slightly. 

          "You look gorgeous," Ross finds his voice, after a moments hesitation. 

         "Keep your tongue in your mouth, little brother!" Rydel teases, playfully shoving him and handing him my guitar. He smiles down at me. He looks good too, dressed in a black suit and a navy tie with his hair still appearing disheveled. 

The girls watch us stride off across the oval to the performance centre. We walk closely, but don't dare risk touching while they are still watching. 

Ross eventually looks over his shoulder when we're a fair while away before intertwining our fingers. 

         "You look so sexy," he tells me in a low voice.

I blush a little, "Thanks."

He suddenly stops walking, and tugs me - who'd stepped ahead - back to him. He kisses me deeply. 

         "That was outstanding," he explains before kissing me again, this time a little more heatedly, "that was because you're so fucking sexy tonight."

I giggle trying to hide my blush which was probably washing down onto my exposed chest. I playfully push him back a little with my free hand, "Keep it in your pants. It's mostly a recital tonight." 

We walk into the auditorium still holding hands. I'm floating too much to notice the looks we were getting, or even feel the familiar rise of nausea when it was my time to perform. I just sat, breathed and played. 

And before I knew it was over, and I was zipping up my guitar in the greenroom. 

It could have been my best performance, but I don't want to dwell too much on it. I want to get back to Ross. I stride between the tables with my shoulders back and chin up. Accepting compliments and congratulations from the people I pass, I get to our allocated table but don't stay for more than a beat. I brush my hand lightly over Ross' shoulders before slinking off. 

I'm feeling confident, brazen. 

Ross gets up from the table clumsily, but is quickly following in my wake.  

There are girls spattered around the tables who frequent the uni cafe, who undoubtedly recognise Ross, if not me. He is mine. Their eyes follow us weaving through the tables and to the corridor which leads to lesson rooms. 

          "Ever had a tour here?"

          "Nope..."

           "I'll show you to my rehearsal space," I look over my shoulder cheekily before ushering him into the corridor. My hand finds his, and I slow my pace to walk beside him.

          "That was the best performance of the night, hands down," he tells me. I nod, trying to be modest, trying to not acknowledge that it is all because of him making me so comfortable. 

We don't walk for more than a couple minutes, taking quick, sharp corners and going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of rehearsal rooms. I stop Ross at one of the identical doors, and whisper, "This one is my practice room."

It is impossible through the sliver of window for Ross to tell just how small the room is until he opens the door. He chuckles when he sees the two chairs and music stand barely fitting.

         "And I thought your bedroom was cosy..." 

          "It's a tight fit," I admit to him. He responds with raised eyebrows and shove him a little, "Ross!" 

           "It kinda reminds me of our first kiss," he says, stepping in. 

I close the door behind us, "Yeah." 

I pull him by his lapel to me and kiss him roughly. He responds against my mouth, and adds teeth and tongue to the mix. I break the contact, and shove him into the closest chair which leans against the wall. Ross tugs at my skirt and pulls me after him. Running my hands through his hair I climb onto his lap, straddling him. 

My formal dress is pooling between us, the material pushing us apart, so Ross' fingers dig into my sides to keep me in placer. He kisses down from my lips to my jawline, to my neck before skirting the edge of my dress. His lips and tongue suck small bits of the tops of my breasts and I groan into his hair, tugging it in response. 

I catch my breath enough to mumble, "I really like you, Ross." 

His mouth freezes on my flesh, and he slowly draws back to look me in the eye. I can't read his expression, but his tight grip on me hasn't loosened. 

             "I love you." 

I look at him, lips parted. He looks drunk and messy, and disorientated. I don't know how to respond to him, and timidly brush back his hair to better see his face. 

           "You don't know me," I whisper, barely audible. 

          "I do," Ross matches my pitch, adding, "I love you." 

I can't say it back, not with words. 

But I let him know with my lips - leaning in and giving him, the softest, sweetest kiss I could.