The rest of the week went along without a hitch, and soon it was the night of the dance.
"You look gorgeous," my father said when I walked down the stairs, wearing a purple dress with spaghetti straps, black high heels, my hair done in soft curls and waves over my shoulders, and my makeup done to perfection.
"Thanks, Dad." I gave him a hug. "I promise I won't be out too late."
Dad nodded. "Just have fun and stay safe."
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Dad opened it and Dakota was standing on the other side, stunning in a black tuxedo, white shirt, and ascot. His hair was straight and pulled back at the nape and his skin glowed a beautiful, soft russet. Gorgeous was not a strong enough word for how he looked, but it was the closest one that I could think of.
"Dakota." Dad nodded, stepping aside. "Come on in."
