Perfection

The time had come.

Prom night. The dance every teenage girl dreams of. The end-of-the-year formal. The big day.

I stood in front of the hallway mirror, scrutinizing every aspect of my appearance: the simple, just-past-the-knee-length gown of baby-blue, the bouncing curls I had prepared in just short of ninety minutes, the carefully-applied rosy shades of blush, along with the black eyeliner and mascara. To my dismay, I didn’t look perfect. I didn’t feel perfect. Maybe I wasn’t good enough for—

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. My mother answered it as I cautiously began my downstairs descent, somehow avoiding death by two-inch heels. When I finally reached the base of the stairs, I had a clear view of perfection as my mother stepped out the doorway. Perfection lingered in the doorframe, his tall frame gracefully leaning on the wood. Slowly, I crossed the living room, drawn to the brown-haired angel who seemed to be waiting for me. I soaked in his radiance as I approached him.

He was always stunning in appearance, but on that evening, he was the epitome of elegance, the essence of beauty. I suppose I was just too accustomed to seeing him in jeans and a t-shirt, but the tuxedo he wore almost transformed him into a different being, a more wondrous one, if that was at all possible. I noted that his tie matched the hue of my dress, but, as a part of his outfit, and not mine, its effect on him was superior to that of the effect of my dress. His hair, now much shorter than it had been the last time I had seen it, was flawless. My jaw almost dropped as I realized his long locks had been lost, but the beauty had remained intact.

As if all of that were not enough to melt hearts, his face was just…amazing. It was more striking than all other aspects of his appearance combined. It was just…beyond words. His profound eyes, like warm chocolate, were enough to keep me happy on a cold winter’s day. And his smile…his smile was just…to die for.

He smiled his dazzling grin, his right hand was outstretched to me—perhaps as an anti-trip precaution—and I took it, my heart racing. I couldn’t recall ever being this anxious around him before. I mean, butterflies had always fluttered around whenever I was near him, but this time, they were fiercer than they had ever been before. They were bound to rip me apart at any moment…but then a heavenly sound flooded my ears, more melodious than the sweetest music.

“You look absolutely stunning this evening, Leigh!” hesang declared. The butterflies seemed to have drowned in the honeylike voice. Except for the warm, red ones—I could feel them racing into my cheeks.

How could he think that? I wondered if he had looked in a mirror lately.

“T-Thanks, Will. You too,” I replied nervously, his eyes cutting my intended reply short. ‘You too’ didn’t even begin to cover it; if he could have heard half of the thoughts I’d had when I first saw him that night…

No. That would have been far too embarrassing.

“Shall we go?” he asked, taking a poised step back through the door. I followed his step. We turned our backs to the house, and he linked his arm with mine as we walked towards his car. It just was an old, dented, red Honda Civic with a scratched paint job that William had inherited on his sixteenth birthday, but it seemed wonderful, all the same. It was a symbol of the times we’d spent together, random afternoons full of jokes and meaningfully meaningless conversations.

He stopped me at the passenger door.

“Wait. Don’t get in yet,” he said suddenly, dashing around to the opposite side. I saw the driver-side door open, and my gracefully lanky angel ducked into the car. He reemerged moments later, a semi-fancy hat on his head. He returned to my side and opened the car door for me. “Your limo, madame,” he said as I entered the car, his crooked smile growing as I stepped into the car.

I gazed, amazed, at William as he reached across to buckle my seatbelt before closing door. This wouldn’t be the first time he had some kind of joke with me. But it was just so out there…Or maybe it wasn’t. But Will will never cease to surprise me.

Before I knew it, we were in front of the ballroom. My “chauffeur,” who had been cracking jokes between warm smiles and hand-holding at red lights, removed his hat before returning to my side. He—quite needlessly—smoothed out his hair a little before taking my arm again. We started walking towards the entrance. He looked a lot more graceful than usual, for some reason. And I suddenly remembered how much shorter I felt whenever I stood next to him. Still, I was more than content as we made our way to the door—he glided, and I traipsed, but all was still well.

We stopped at the door, and William turned to face me.

“Ready?” he asked softly, his smile again creeping from his lips into his eyes.

“Um…I guess,” I replied, nervousness striking me suddenly as I realized that, once we passed the two glassy doors, it wouldn’t just be the two of us anymore. There’d be other people there. They’d see me trip over my feet and fall on my face when I tried to dance with William.

But William took my hand and walked me in.

And the dancing began. I don’t know how I did it, but I somehow avoided spilling my blood on the dancefloor. I guess Will’s a talented leader. No surprise there; he’s just perfect.

During the first song, I was painfully aware of the other couples on the dancefloor, the wallflowers, the chaperones, and everyone else. Slowly though, the invitation of the two arms around me and the fixed gaze of the two warm eyes drew my attention away from the crowd, from my own clumsy feet, to the reason I was dancing in the first place. I followed his step and his beat. I don’t even know if we were in time with the waltz-y piece, but I guess it didn’t matter. It was him and me.

It was like that for a while. A few songs passed, gradually speeding up. On one relatively fast song, though, the world came crashing down.

Or rather, I did.

It all happened so fast. One instant, I was swaying around with William. The next, I heard a squeaky snap! as piece of shiny blue plastic flew into the air, bending my ankle and sending me onto my backside. “Ow!” I said, still holding one of Will’s hands as I glanced at my somewhat-pained foot. My high-heeled shoe had turned into a flat one.

“You okay down there?” asked William, his voice half-worried, half-playful. I blushed profusely as I looked up to reply—I heard giggles from our surroundings. “I guess,” I said, trying to ignore the slight ache in my bottom. Great. I had ruined the bliss of the evening with my stupid feet. I shouldn’t have pretended to be a dancer, not even for that one night.

He helped me back up, and I stood with my heel elevated, pretending momentarily that my shoe was intact. I tried to stay balanced, and I was surprised when I saw William bend down. I felt his fingers on my ankles as he undid the shoe straps and pulled off the baby blue death traps, first the left one, then the right. My feet were freed and soothed by the cold floor beneath them as William returned to his place, towering above me, brandishing the wicked shoes.

“I really don’t think you should be wearing these…” he said, grinning as he handed them to me. I thanked him and tossed them against the nearby wall.

He took me in his arms again, and we danced some more. Somehow, though, I wasn’t enjoying it anymore. Maybe it was because my bare feet were a little. Maybe I felt bad because I had lost my height boost. Maybe it was just the fact that I had managed to embarrass the both of us and ruin the night in an instant. I swayed with him, but it just wasn’t the same. I could feel some kind of emotional breakdown coming. Everything was ruined because of me.

My mind was running out of control, at a thousand miles an hour. I didn’t register the face in front of my eyes until I felt the breath on my face. Somehow, things had turn from the better. As my mind reentered the present, I realized the Williams lips were closely approaching my own. His warm, brown eyes drew me in, and a random act of just…sweetness…began.

His soft lips gingerly touched mine, and in that moment, I was assimilated into his perfection. Nothing was wrong anymore, not with my appearance, or my mini-accident, or anything.

He was still perfect.
The night became perfect.
We were perfect.