Peter stepped down the old attic ladder and entered his room with the suit. He held it up to the mirror, admiring its quality.
"Tomorrow, I get to wear it, Dad." He said, holding the suit up. Peter's phone suddenly buzzed.
He set the suit on his bed and checked his phone. It was a text from Maria. "The dance got rescheduled, Red. IT'S TONIGHT!!"
Peter grabbed his hair gel and went to the bathroom. He took a glob of gel in his hand and rubbed it together before slicking his hair to the side.
He turned on the faucet and washed off the extra gel. As he washed the gel off, Peter looked in the mirror. "I should probably shave."
He grabbed his razor and wet the blade. Looking into the mirror, he gently dragged the edge down his beard.
Peter gently scraped away his beard, careful not to cut himself. The hairs fell into the sink as the water sent them down the drain.
He splashed the water on his face and grabbed a towel, wiping his face and admiring his fresh cut.
Peter looked in the mirror and smiled. "I'm ready...shit my suit!"
Peter ran back to his room and put on his suit. He was finally ready.
Peter walked out of his room and checked the couch. His mother was still passed out, but he knew better than to check her pulse.
He quickly made his way out the door and got in his pickup. He turned the key, and the truck rumbled to life.
Peter wore an ebony black suit with white crystal buttons; its pocket was slightly worn but still sharp-looking. His hair was slicked to the side, the front of it falling in thick slivers on his face. His face was bright and happy, with a freshly shaved beard. He held colorful red flowers in his nervous hands while glancing at an old pocket watch.
Peter stopped at Maria's patio, nervous but ultimately excited. He sighed, finally building the courage, and knocked on the door.
His smile was big and goofy as Maria opened the door, her dress long and flowy.
"Peter! Look, my dress has pockets!" Maria twirled in the dress, showing Peter the pockets. Her smile was huge, and happiness glowed on her cheeks.
She looked so beautiful in her cornflower-blue satin dress. It was long, with gentle ruffles at the bottom that barely covered her shining diamond-blue heels. Her hair fell at her sides like gorgeous waves of maroon. Her soft, ocean eyes seemed to pop with her rosy cheeks.
A beautiful pearl necklace pulled together the whole outfit, really bringing attention to her as if she needed anything else to stand out.
"I LOVE IT!!" Peter smiled at her and handed her the flowers in his hand. Maria looked at the flowers, tears forming.
Peter lifted her chin and looked into her eyes, speaking softly. "What's wrong? I thought you loved Bleeding Hearts."
Maria hugged him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I do... I just... Wasn't expecting you to remember..." She rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying his gentle touch.
Peter held her in his arms, his smile wide. "Of course I did."
Peter looked into her eyes, wiping the tears. "I love you so much, Maria."
"We... We should get going to the homecoming dance..." Maria blushed deeply, hiding her face in Peter's arms. He was the only guy who could shatter her confidence and make her feel like a giddy schoolgirl, and she loved it.
She held his arm tightly as they walked to the homecoming dance. For once, she didn't have any second thoughts about a dance.
Peter held open the door for Maria. "After you."
Maria grabbed his arm and forced him into the door, "Ladies first, actually, Peter," She giggled, making Peter's ears turn bright red.
As they entered the gym, Maria clutched Peter's arm. "Guess we know where the budget goes," Peter said with a chuckle.
Maria laughed, "For real."
The two split up after meeting with friends, Peter's friends being idiots. "How'd you bag such a hottie, dude?" His one blonde friend asked another, nodding, wanting to know.
Peter sighed, "By not living up to my nickname, Dick." The other friend laughed at Peter's quick remark.
"You can have your bitches, Pete. I got the boys." Dick said, punching Peter's shoulder.
"Well, first of all, Maria is not a bitch; she's a queen," Peter took a sip of his drink, "Second, we know you're gay."
Dick's face grew red, "I'm not gay!"
"Shame you aren't. You look so good." The other friend said with a laugh. He actually was gay and had a bit of a crush on Dick.
"Theo's the gay one, not me," Dick said, pointing at Theo. Theo looked up from stuffing his mouth with cupcakes, "Yes?"
Peter laughed, "Nothing, Theo. Just keep enjoying the food."
Dick and Peter started arguing again. "Maybe if you weren't so obsessed with sex, Dick. You actually get a dick."
Dick scoffed, "Says the graysexual."
Peter laughed and punched Dick's shoulder. "Touché, Dick. Touché."
They were interrupted by the disc jockey speaking on the microphone.
"Alright, Homies. We gonna slow it down now. So grab that special someone and dance with her, my guy... Or that special fella, I ain't judgin."
Peter walked to Maria, standing with a few friends at the punch bowl. He reached out his hand to Maria. "May I have this dance?" He smiled at her softly.
His smile glimmered in the dim lighting. Even Maria's friends were blushing, but Peter had eyes for Maria and her alone.
Maria took his hand, her heart beating fast in her chest as she looked into his emerald eyes. "You may, Red."
Peter pulled her to him, holding her and gently rocking to the music. As they danced, he whispered in her ear, "Who's red now?" Her face turned a bright shade of red as she mumbled, "M-Me."
Dozens of others surrounded them, but as far as they were concerned, they were alone. Alone, slowly dancing to the music as a soft rain pattered the gym ceiling.
They swayed to the music, neither one wanting the moment to end. "I'd say you've never looked more beautiful, but your beauty astounds me daily," Peter whispered, kissing her hand and twirling her.
As Maria spun, her dress flowed, and she looked like a beautiful flower from above. It was such a pure moment- A moment that could never be taken.
"I love you, Maria," Peter said softly, looking into her eyes as the music stopped.
Maria hugged him tightly, too flustered to speak. The rest of the night felt like a blur as they danced- a beautiful, beautiful blur.
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