Working, working, working . . .
Same story farther down the line.
He raises the camera to take a picture. "You remind me of--"
"If you say Cinderella, I'm out of here," I cut him off.
"I was going to say Titania from "Midsummer Night's Dream," he says, snapping a photo.
I smirk. "Destined to fall in love with a jackass?"
"I was referring to the whole ethereal fairy princess look you've got going on," he says with a chuckle.
I tug on a stand of my hair. "Must be the confetti. Marlena said it complimented my dress magnificently."
"The silver eye shadow you're rocking doesn't hurt either."
"So I take it, you think of yourself as Oberon," I say teasingly after he takes a few more photos.
He grins crookedly. "Puck, actually."
I study him for a moment. "I have a feeling you're going to cause me a lot of trouble, Nathaniel Cross."
"Is that going to be a problem?"
I raise an eyebrow skeptically and cross my arms over my chest. "Are you this charming with all women?"
"God, no. I usually fall on my face long before this," he admits, scratching his temple nervously.
"You wanna dance?" I ask.
"You're not asking me out of pity, are you? ‘Cause I don't think I could handle a pity dance."
"I don't do anything involving pity," I assure him.
"Good to know," he says as he sets his camera down and offers me his arm.
I step out of my shoes and let Nate lead me to the dance floor. He looks down at me and blinks in surprise. I look away, feeling very self-conscious about suddenly being only five feet three inches again. Nate takes my hands and guides them up to his shoulders, then brings his to rest on my waist.
"Don't get all shy and reserved on me now," he murmurs as we sway in time with the music.
"I'm just waiting for the short jokes to start," I tell him.
"My mom's barely five feet tall," Nate informs me. "She scares the hell out of me."
He raises the camera to take a picture. "You remind me of--"
"If you say Cinderella, I'm out of here," I cut him off.
"I was going to say Titania from "Midsummer Night's Dream," he says, snapping a photo.
I smirk. "Destined to fall in love with a jackass?"
"I was referring to the whole ethereal fairy princess look you've got going on," he says with a chuckle.
I tug on a stand of my hair. "Must be the confetti. Marlena said it complimented my dress magnificently."
"The silver eye shadow you're rocking doesn't hurt either."
"So I take it, you think of yourself as Oberon," I say teasingly after he takes a few more photos.
He grins crookedly. "Puck, actually."
I study him for a moment. "I have a feeling you're going to cause me a lot of trouble, Nathaniel Cross."
"Is that going to be a problem?"
I raise an eyebrow skeptically and cross my arms over my chest. "Are you this charming with all women?"
"God, no. I usually fall on my face long before this," he admits, scratching his temple nervously.
"You wanna dance?" I ask.
"You're not asking me out of pity, are you? ‘Cause I don't think I could handle a pity dance."
"I don't do anything involving pity," I assure him.
"Good to know," he says as he sets his camera down and offers me his arm.
I step out of my shoes and let Nate lead me to the dance floor. He looks down at me and blinks in surprise. I look away, feeling very self-conscious about suddenly being only five feet three inches again. Nate takes my hands and guides them up to his shoulders, then brings his to rest on my waist.
"Don't get all shy and reserved on me now," he murmurs as we sway in time with the music.
"I'm just waiting for the short jokes to start," I tell him.
"My mom's barely five feet tall," Nate informs me. "She scares the hell out of me."