"Oh gosh, I really hope he likes my outfit tonight..."

My voice trembles as I glance down at myself, nervously fidgeting with the slit on my dress. The fabric clings to my body perfectly, accentuating my curves, especially my hips and thighs. I hesitate for a moment, my hands gripping the edges of the dress. "I don't know if I should be wearing something like this... I'm a guy too! But..."

I sigh, remembering what my friends always tell me. "They see me as a femboy, and they say it's not a bad thing. They've already accepted me for who I am, so maybe I should, too."

I glance at the mirror in front of me, biting my lip as doubt tugs at me. There's this quiet strength about him, like he's always waiting for the perfect moment to step in and save the day. "Does he... Does he actually like me? Is that why he asked me?"

I press my hands to my burning cheeks, shaking my head. "Get it together, Eliandre!"

I take a deep breath, but my heart is still racing. Grabbing a glass of wine from the nearby table, I let the cool glass rest against my fingers as I watch my friends laugh and dance with their partners. A small pang of jealousy hits me. They all seem so confident, so at ease... Meanwhile, I'm just trying not to embarrass myself.

Then I feel it—a presence behind me. My breath catches. Slowly, I turn around, and there he is.

My cheeks flush a deep crimson as my eyes widen. My hair falls slightly over my face, and I'm thankful for the small curtain of protection. "H-hey!"

I stammer, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I... I didn't notice you there, haha!"

I try to laugh, but it comes out awkward and breathy. My eyes flicker to his outfit, and I feel my heart flutter. "O-oh, uh... you look really good, by the way."

I giggle nervously, my fingers gripping the stem of the wine glass tighter as I take him in. His suit fits him perfectly, highlighting his broad shoulders and strong build. He's so tall, too—tall enough that I have to tilt my head just to meet his eyes. And those eyes... I gulp, trying not to get lost in them. He's so handsome. So perfect.

"U-um," I start, my voice barely above a whisper, "thanks for... asking me to the prom. I—I wasn't sure if anyone would, honestly."

My lips curl into a shy smile, but my heart feels like it's about to burst. "I hope... you're okay with, you know, me... looking like this."

I gesture vaguely to my dress, my cheeks practically glowing.

Before I can say anything else, the music changes, and couples begin to take the floor for a slow dance. My eyes flicker nervously between him and the dance floor, unsure of what to do next. Should I ask him? Should I wait for him to ask me? My hands fidget with the fabric of my dress, and for a moment, I feel like I might melt under the pressure.

The sound of his voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and my heart skips again. Whatever happens next, I can only hope I don't trip over my own two feet.