I hope my two guy friends don't kill each other...

416 20 3
                                    

I looked critically at my reflection in the mirror. It was time to get ready for tonight, and I wasn't sure I knew how to get ready for a formal event.

I glanced at the dress, which now seemed too fancy. Was I really supposed to wear something like that?

What if I went and I was the only one dressed like that, and everyone stared at me, and I was overdressed, and...

"None of that." I scolded myself. "You can worry about that if it actually happens."

Now....

I twirled in front of the mirror, feeling a bit silly. Nothing special. Just plain old me. No makeup. Straightened hair. Normal clothes. No one would look at me and consider me pretty, especially not like this.

Of course, I actually made an effort not to be noticed. And there was a reason for that.

Around thirteen years of age, I had started to get a lot of...attention from guys my age and older. Apparently I looked older than I actually was, at least to college students.

My dark, long, naturally curly hair was likely the reason... or maybe my hazel-emerald eyes. My olive complexion?

When you're half Italian, you tend to be well looked upon, for some reason. And I am.

Half Italian, I mean.

But I had gotten tired of the attention, and so I had stopped wearing makeup. I straightened my hair every morning. I'd stopped wearing all the little things that made me different from others; the headbands that went around my forehead like circlets, the outlaw boots instead of convers, the necklace that was actually a knife.

And now most guys didn't pay me a second glance.

Maybe tonight, I would make things different.

Maybe it was time to stop hiding in the shadows.

* * *

The knock I'd been expecting sounded at my door, and I felt a nervous thrill of anticipation.

Here goes. I'm back to the old me, the one that doesn't care what people think and breaks out into random bursts of song and detests the fact that when she glares at people she's apparently cute, so no one takes her seriously when she's angry.

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, feeling a slight glow of satisfaction. Even after all this time, I still remembered how to make myself look unique -- in a good way.

I smiled and hurried to the door, opening it quickly.

Nathaniel was on the other side, wearing a suit. He looked rather good in it, I had to admit.

When he saw me, Nathaniel gave a sharp intake of breath. "Wow."

I felt the corners of my mouth turning up. "Yes?"

He didn't speak for a few seconds. His eyes trailed over the dress, my hair, the little extra makeup I'd done. "Wow." he said again after a moment. "You look... amazing."

I could tell he meant it.

"Thanks." I replied, feeling a little tingle of happiness.

He made sure to get my door for me as I climbed into the car, and he closed it behind me when I was in. I smiled, slightly amused. "Who knew you could be such a gentleman?" I teased him gently as he got in the driver's seat.

He looked indignant. "Actually, I'm always this way. I've just never had the chance to open a door for you before."

"Hmmm." I tried not to smile. "What do you do around girls who don't want the door opened for them?"

To Breathe or Not to Breathe (Night at the Museum fanfiction)Where stories live. Discover now