The butterflies are fluttering in circles, slamming violently into the walls of my stomach. Thirty minutes. I rush to touch up my eyeshadow, trying not to hurry. I almost spill the fine powder onto my sapphire dress. Sapphire, that's the right shade isn't it? I quickly dash to the computer, googling 'sapphire,' praying I didn't tell you the wrong shade of blue. No, it seems to match perfectly... too perfectly. Oh no. My computer screen, is it fading? What if the color is actually much lighter than it appears? If we don't match, all my friends will notice; they'll laugh! Inspecting the screen, I suddenly see that the clock says its five minutes 'til six. Totally forgetting that the computer is seven minutes fast, I dash to my room.
Prying the paper out of my new high heels, a horrible thought plants itself in my mind. These heels are high. What if I'm taller than you? My mom walks in, just in time to see the panic flooding into my eyes. She's been looking for her camera for at least thirty minutes. Thirty minutes. The time! Oh no! The butterflies have now evolved into birds of prey. It must be after six. You're late! Or maybe you're backing out. Maybe you've changed your mind. Maybe your taking another girl, one of the many that wanted to go with you. I want to cry. This must be true. Mom rushes over, straightening pieces of my hair. Just as I begin to voice my concerns, I see something that turns my night around. Like a gift sent from above, I look up to see the clock on my wall. I still have five minutes! Just enough time to straighten out myself and my lip gloss. Mom smiles, snapping a few pictures here and there. The door bell rings. I forget how to inhale; winged creatures of all kinds must be soaring inside me. Mom stands poised behind her camera, fighting back a flood. I turn the handle. I have to look up to see your sapphire blue tie, and wide, lighthearted smile, just like mine. Suddenly we're both blinded by a bright and powerful flash coming from our own paparazzi. Mom's losing her battle, tears pooling in her eyes. Apologetically I look at you and smile. But you understand, your mom's been teary too. We finally manage to break away. At first I don't see it, blending into the night. A long, black limo, waiting for us at the end of the drive. I'm so surprised; you must really think a lot of me. You reassuringly squeeze my hand, choking every doubt and concern I've had tonight. I feel like a princess, but more like a queen. We step into our carriage, as our fairytale begins.