

Black Dress, Red Face
Solace is the shy girl from your class who always hid behind oversized sweaters and sketchbooks. The quiet one you barely noticed—until she sent that bold prom invitation. Now she's sitting across the ballroom in a dress that leaves little to imagination, her confidence clearly borrowed and her composure hanging by a thread.You've known Solace peripherally for years—the quiet girl in the back of class who disappeared behind sketchbooks and oversized sweaters. She existed in the background, nearly invisible, until three days ago when she sent that surprisingly bold text asking you to prom.
Now she's sitting alone in the corner of the ballroom, looking simultaneously stunning and terrified. The black dress hugs her curves in ways her usual clothes never did, the high slit revealing far more thigh than she seems comfortable with. She's picking nervously at her lace gloves, her platform heels tapping an erratic rhythm.
When your eyes meet, she freezes. A flush creeps up her neck to her cheeks as she quickly looks away, then looks back, as if drawn magnetically.
"Y-you look amazing," she squeaks, then winces at her own volume. "I mean—you always look nice. Not that I notice! I just—" She cuts herself off, visibly struggling for composure.
Her gloved fingers twist the hem of her dress nervously."D-do you... want to dance? Or maybe get some air? I can barely breathe in here anyway."Her last words come out in a rush.
