Finding Cinderella

ღ Finding Cinderella (9)

-Kylie-

I never realized how insane I could be until I found myself standing in front of him.

I didn't want to dance with him.

I didn't want to dance with anybody. And even if I did, it seriously wouldn't be him. He'd be the last person in the universe who I would dance with.

However, seeing his strange aura and courteous approach, I found myself going along with him. It was as if there was a strong magnetic pull in his actions that kept me drawn to him. Genuine, courteous gestures were something I had never seen of him until now. He always had a cheeky attitude that never failed to aggravate me every single day, but where was it gone now?

Is this... is this really Tristan?

My heart didn't stop its erratic beating as we glided effortlessly across the dance floor. I felt even worse when I observed that some of the girls around us were glaring at me as if my dancing with this jerk was a crime. But seriously, what I just did felt like a crime.

I was dancing with my mortal enemy, for Pete's sake!

His arms tightened around my waist, and I stiffened for a second. I couldn't believe this was happening. I looked up with eyes of rage and saw the cocky little smirk on his face.

I really wanted to scratch that smirk off.

With his mischievous smile that showed off his dimples and his black hair in a mess, he certainly looked like a demon prince in a black suit—minus the pitchfork, though. That's why most girls claimed that they would die just to have a chance to dance with him, to touch his hand, to smell his shampoo, and even to count his eyelashes. But then again, he's Tristan Hartford, the guy who could always attract girls by his charms.

Yeah, right.

I gave him a smirk back. For this moment, I decided that I wasn't going to act as myself. This guy seemed not to recognize me, and that was a good thing.

Okay, Kylie, don't show any emotions. Don't show how badly you need to take a pee. Seriously. Just act like you're a wall or something—

"Oh," I muttered as I felt his shoe trapping the bottom of my gown.

Tristan snapped his head up, a look of mortification coming over his face. I quickly bit my tongue, preventing myself from making any noise that would easily reveal my identity. I dreaded having another person to know my secret—especially this person.

He lifted his shoe off and mumbled, "Sorry."

My eyebrows rose in surprise. It had been a long time since I saw him feel any sort of remorse, and it was giving me a... weird feeling.

I nodded at his apology and tentatively went along with his steps. It was my fault, anyway. His little steps were all fine, but it was just a little difficult to follow at first. Especially when my feet were not in the mood to go along with his.

Two small slides, a spin, and another slide... Ah, I got it. Huh, he probably worked this out for himself.

For a moment, I let my eyes wander about the area. Erik was dancing with Veronica Sullivan, who was wearing a flashy black dress. Among the people in the audience was Fiona Ryder with her arms crossed over her chest. With her dark brown hair coiffed above her head and her sparkly red dress, this girl stood out from the crowd. I would have described her as pretty if only she wasn't looking at me like she was about to murder me.

I sighed. Since when did occasions like this become torture sessions?

Tristan cleared his throat, and I turned to him. His mouth opened, closed, and then opened again. I tried my best not to laugh. It was funny to see how he was struggling for words.