denise the fish.
A strange eighteen-year-old girl who enjoys good music, writing, cold milk tea, and rainy days.

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So the third of April starts officially starts off with my mom and I heading out to the salon to have my hair and make-up done. About two hours afterward, I'm all dolled up in light, but fierce make-up, and we go home. I put on my grad-ball dress, shoes, and minimal accessories; I'm then mildly surprised to see my boyfriend/"date" arriving early with a car he borrowed so he could drive me to the hotel (borrowed, because he owns a motorcycle, and not his own car ^_^). But I'm more surprised at the fact that he's wearing a matching silver suit.

You didn't have to, I say.

"I wanted to look good beside you," he replies, smiling.

"We'll go out when I pick you up later, okay?" he grins, resting his chin on the top of my head. "Just don't dance with too many of your guy friends, will 'ya?"

I nod and remind him to bring a guitar for later. He gives me one last look after kissing me goodbye privately, and then he finally leaves. I head toward my friends and go inside the ballroom. The scene abruptly whirlwinds into the most epic party I've ever been to--a night of dancing, laughing, and reminiscing about the wonderful experience of high school. The night seems perfect, but incomplete somehow. I already know what's missing.

I get out of the ballroom with my feet pretty much dying. Once I look up, he's right there, carrying a small bag, leaning against the wall with an acoustic guitar slung over his back. I walk up to him and I see that he changed out of his silver suit, and back to his regular attire--his favorite black jacket, jeans, and white v-neck shirt.

"The suit's a little uncomfortable," he explains, scratching the back of his neck guiltily. I wave it off, since he never fails to look amazing in whatever he wears. Then I take a peek at the bag.

He smirks. "I know how much you hate wearing really high heels."

Inside the bag are a brand new pair of flats, an extra shirt, and jeans. He apologizes and says it's because we have to take his motorbike instead since his friend wanted the car back. But it's completely fine with me; I like riding his bike anyway--makes me feel badass, lols.

I bid my friends goodbye and my class gets one huge group hug before I leave with him. I change to the clothes he got me, then we hop on the bike. My arms are wrapped tightly around his waist as he drives the motorcycle into a nearby McDonald's, because we're cheap like that. We buy around 4 cups of ice cream and a pack of chicken nuggets, and over this particularly unhealthy midnight snack, he asks me what happened during the ball. I tell him it would've been perfect if it weren't for the fact that he wasn't there. He laughs, and I realize how musical it sounds like.

We take the bike again and ride over to a secluded park, wherein we do nothing but sing and play guitar. Song and laughter fill the air that night, the both of us just...happy. One thing leads to another and I find myself slow dancing with him under the moonlight, his voice serenading me as he holds me in his arms. Somehow, everything feels right.

He checks the time and it's nearing my curfew; he says I have to get home or else he'll have a bad impression on my mom. A bit resentful, I nod anyway. As we reach my house, my night is ended with a short, but sweet kiss on the lips. The odd, fuzzy feeling stays even as I watch him disappear into the darkness with his motorcycle.

***

oh why yes I do waste my time fantasizing about the most pointless things. Dear lord I need a real love life. ;___;