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Post by Devin McKayAnd Drek McKay on Nov 4, 2006 23:54:34 GMT -5
Devin was nervous as hell. He was here with his brother, and he was here to escort his friend, one of the only ones he had in this place. He gave a small smile to his brother who nodded and returned the smile then looked up to where Zanna would come out.
He couldn't help but think, what had Zanna in all her mind been thinking when she asked him to go. Scared as he was though, he wasn't about to embarrass anyone there. No. He stood up tall bring himself to his full height making himself look confident.
He really hoped he didn't embarrass anyone it would kill him. It was a surprise for Devin to learn that he was so freaked out by this. So nervous, how was this, he had no idea.
Devin wore something that only, well, only Devin could pull off. He wore a black suit, yes, and a white button up under it. But the lip of his pocket happened to be a pink color, and the lapels (I think thats what they are called) on his suit were the same pinkish color. His tie, was black, with the pink color yet again going down in a diagonal way.
Yes, It was what he would do, what he would wear. It was him. He noticed for the first time that Zanna had come out and he had to take all of his self control to stop from gaping. She looked great! Better than great.
Watching Zanna come down, he stole a quick look at his brother who gave him a reassuring look. Not really reassured but happy his brother was there he smiled a shy smile, out of character for him but still there.
As Zanna made her way down he held out his arm. “Hey.. You look, wow”He said in an equally soft voice as he lead her off to waltz. “You know don't you, that I can't dance? Of course you do.”He said again in that soft tone. Yeah, a real surprise that Devin was actually quiet and calm for once, well I wouldn't really call him calm if you knew him well enough from his laid back way you would see easily that he was quite tense. Though as he put it he was just Terribly terribly alert. Scary almost from his normal loud self.
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Post by Lily Rivera on Nov 6, 2006 13:50:58 GMT -5
Lily stood behind the doors, waiting for her name to be called along with her brothers. She was so nervous she could break down any second now. She started to crack her knuckles a habit she has had since she was 12, to calm herself down. She thought about herself walking down the isle, looking fab in her dress that her aunt flew in from France that she got from that little boutique. Then she thought about what her brother was wearing. Ohmygod! Brandon! She remembered that her brother, Brandon, was not awake when she left the house. Her dad wasn't home to wake him up, her mom wouldn't even remember that Cotillion was today. She wouldn't even remember her own name because she was so stoned. She thought he was still sleeping. BIG problem. Acting by first instinct, she whipped out her cell and called Brandon. Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit BRANDON PICK UP THE PHONE!! Luckily, her mom was responsible and sober and woke him up in time and he was waiting, ready to go looking all spiffy. For once, Lily was proud to call Debra Rivera her mother. Then, all of a sudden, Lily snapped out of her thoughts because she heard her name. This was it. She watched the doors swing open. She put her I'm-oh-so-perfect-look-at-me smile on and listened too the click click click of her Jimmy Chu heels while she walked with Brandon "You look fantastic." He whispered. Like a good brother should. Lily looked forward and that nervousness hit her harder than it already had. Okay honey, this is is it. You look stunning. Remember, you are representing the Rivera family. Make Daddy proud. Before she knew it, she was at the end of the isle, her heart pounding like she had been running the marathon. She heard the applause and felt like a star. Well, in a way she was. Then it hit her like and eighteen wheeler. The easy part was over. The hard part, was just beginning.
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Post by Taylor Clear on Nov 6, 2006 15:39:50 GMT -5
It was almost surreal, that today was cotillion. The sky had been a bright blue, the breeze that perfect California type that made everyone's hair look absolutely amazing. After all, it was Orange County.
Taylor had expected herself to wake up and feel different, feel special. It was daring to hope for recovery, and she knew it wouldn't come. Knew she'd crash and burn if she found out the honest truth--but lying almost hurt less.
She had gone through the motions of the day--gone to the "It" Spa Vienna and gotten the classic pale-ballet-pink manicure-pedicure, had the facial to cleanse her pores and make her skin look bright and healthy. Everyone else said it worked. Taylor thought she still looked too sick, too thin. Her hair seemed limp and her eyes lacked sparkle, lacked life. She seemed to droop, but maybe that was just the way she saw herself through the antique mirror in her foyer.
The only part she was truly excited about was her dress. If this was her last chance--and, in the back of her mind, she had gone so far as to think it was--then she might as well choose something that brightened her, that made her feel like a princess. It was, really, a beautiful gown. So Taylor, so perfect.
She had arrived at the Montez in a baby-blue terrycloth Juicy Couture tracksuit, two hours before the event started, to get ready with the rest of the girls. Apparently, Rachel had kept her word and told no one--the excited teeenagers treated her just as they normally would.
Her mother gave her a kiss on the cheek and placed the gold garment bag in her spindly hands. Taylor sat in front of the vanity, staring at her blank face and beautiful curled hair. She slipped out of the tracksuit and into the dress--thirty minutes to showtime. It was as if everything that had been mulling up inside of her vanished, if only for a few hours. She was beautiful, in that infinite moment.
The half hour went by in a haze of hairbrushes, pins, spray, perfume, lace, chiffon, and nervousness. Soon, standing inside the door waiting, Taylor's name was called. All she could see was her father, his eyes a bit glassy, looking sharp in a crisp black Dolce por Homme tuxedo. Taylor walked forward, almost not feeling, and took his arm, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
Her hair was pulled half-back, the front strands pinned behind her head with pearl-and-diamond Tiffany clips, loosely fastened. The rest fell down her shoulders, onto her porcelain white skin. Her collarbones were prominent because of the weight she had lost, her eyelashes brushing her cheekbones as she looked down, helped by Pout mascara. The lightest blue shimmering eyeshadow was brushed along her eyelids, and her lips were a glittering sheer peach Dior Kiss number.
The dress... the dress was amazing. It was by Nicole Miller, creater of gorgeous gowns. It was white satin with a sheer silk overlay, just brushing the floor, where her silver strappy Christian Louboutin stilettos peeked out. The gown was rather loose, nipping in at her smaller-than-small waist and going into a two-strap cowl neck along the top of her bust. It made her beautiful, to say the least.
Taylor closed her eyes for a moment, looking across the mahogany floor. For a moment in time, she could just be Taylor, unharmed by the cancer mess. It was her time, and everyone's eyes were on her, admiring. She had always been ashamed of that, but now she didn't mind. At the end of the staircase, Jeremy was waiting, having just left Eva to meet her.
"I love you, Daddy." She kissed his forehead, where the rather scruffy blonde surfer hair ended. "Thank you for everything." The words would be cheesy coming out of someone else's mouth, but right now they seemed fitting. Such classic debutante material. Taylor slipped her arm through Jeremy's. The dance went by quickly, just simple steps and a few turns.
They backed away, but the glitter and glow from the teary-eyed blonde was left for everyone else to walk through.
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Post by nikki2 on Nov 6, 2006 20:58:17 GMT -5
Alright. It was her turn. Asha's turn. Nervous sighs emitted behind her. Nervous sighs emitted from her. Damn it. She was nervous. Asha fucking Lane was nervous. She wasn't supposed to get nervous. She was supposed to be that strong girl that everyone wished they had the feelings of. She was supposed to be steady, ready, and perfect. And here she was feeling fucking nervous. What a shame.
Alright, get over it already, she told herself, shaking her head slightly and looking straight forward at the doors before her. You're gonna rock this place. You're gonna be fine. Get over it.
Okay. She was over it. She looked great, and she knew it. Her dress was an almost gauzy material the clung lightly to the skin of her legs. It was, no surprise, a light cream color and appeared sort of...goddess-ish, if that was a word. A thin belt of crystals lay just below the chest area, accentuating her perfect and thin body--the one every girl in the O.C. strived to have, you know? And her hair. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek and sexy french chignon, held in place by a bunch of bobby pins (though no one knew that but her and the hair-woman), a tad bit of hairspray, and an elegant pair of chop-stick looking items of a name that matched her middlename. Pearl. Pearl chopsticks. What a fancy little girl.
Suddenly, the doors swung open and Asha stepped forward. She grabbed a hold of her father's black tuxedoed arm and threw a quick smile at him. Returning the gesture, they began walking down the steps, all eyes on them. They were both used to it, however, so it barely even phased them.
There, at the bottom of the steps was Asha's 'date'. He was simply her father's friend's son; two years Asha's senior. Sure, he was cute. Sure, he had a sexy french accent, but he just wasn't the sort of guy she really wanted to...do. Perhaps that was why her father chose him. Father's didn't generally want their daughters to screw boys they'd barely known for a couple of hours. Now. What was his name again? "Eliot," her father whispered, as though he'd read her mind. As they broke apart, Asha now loosely grasped Eliot's hand, and they begun the dance. "Nice to meet you--again," he said, in that oh-so-sexy, you-know-you-want-me sort of voice. The thing was...she didn't really want him. [/color][/size] [[tag ;; Channel]] [/color][/size]
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Post by Elizabeth Martin on Nov 8, 2006 17:00:25 GMT -5
It had been what, six hours since Elizabeth had even said two words, and now she was in a big ass room with a bunch of girls she didn’t want to be near. What a lovely night. But, It was very obvious, that when Elizabeth was this unhappy, she looked amazing. She had almost a natural looking pout, and her high cheekbones had been dusted with a light peachy shade, and she just looked around good. Her dress would give her only complements, and her shoes, where probably the most expensive thing for miles to come. Her dress and shoes had been shipped in from France, this morning, from a small couture place in the out skirts of Paris. It was sure satin and silk, floor length, and perfect white, with thin spaghetti straps that didn’t cut into her shoulders, like they did on shows where girls that where a size eight, tried to fit into a size four dress. It skimmed her curves and just in the side it cut out, to give a sexy, not tramp-y look. On her feet she wore a pair of white open toe slung back heels, that were the most uncomfortable looking shoes. Lizzie was smart, and wore gel soles. Liz stood, absent mildly awaiting her name to be called. In her hand was her ninth glass of Champagne, which didn’t seem to be doing the trick. Elizabeth heard her name, and stepped up to the door and nearly slammed her glass on of the other girls tables, as she prepared to leave. She took a quick look back at her French twisted chignon hair, and her natural looking make up. She looked amazing. The doors swung open, Elizabeth took a deep breath and then stepped out with a beautiful smile on her face. She locked arms with her handsome, middle aged father and descended the staircase. “Nadia, you look lovely!” Her father breathed, under his smile. It took Elizabeth all she had not to make the smile looked forced. Nadia? Did he have to call her Nadia? “Thank you, Father…” Elizabeth breather back, and then searched the hall for Cole. She needed someone to talk to, someone to drink with, someone to ditch with…
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Post by Colby Hill on Nov 9, 2006 2:02:49 GMT -5
Currently planted at the bottom of the staircase, a certain masculine individual waited patiently for his date's name to be called and for her to make her appearance. Both his hands were currently planted behind his back, his gaze focused up the stairs. To him, this was all a needless show, as why exactly did the ladies need a coming out ball? Were they stuck in the olden days? He was going along with it though...for one person. Elizabeth. Though, he wasn't exactly certain as to why he'd even shown up. First she'd left without saying anything, and then he'd gotten some strange mail about family issues. He wasn't about to question her though -- it wasn't exactly any of his business.
Hearing her name announced, he stopped staring into space, watching the descent of Liz and her father. A ghost of a smile flitted unto his face, him inwardly hoping she didn't trip and fall on her face. She seemed a bit...stressed...upset...to him, but maybe he just wasn't reading her right. Running a hand over one of the pant legs of his black tuxedo, he put out a hand, accepting Liz from her father. "You looking for me?" he asked with a small smirk, kissing her cheek. He told her just how beautiful she looked, but figured she already knew that and didn't need him to say it however. After all, she /was/ Elizabeth Martin, and to him she didn't /need/ make-up to look good; he'd seen the proof of that already.
Placing his arms upon her right, he started the waltz, executing what they'd been taught at the dancing lessons. He didn't really like the spotlight, but judging from the ladies who'd appeared earlier, including his own cousin, they were quite enjoying it. It wasn't about the males anyway. Dancing her off to the side, they joined the group of other couples, one of his hands slinking around Liz's waist. This was going to be one /long/ night...hopefully they could make it enjoyable, though. Hopefully none of his current problems would come to light and... No, it wasn't a time to think about that. It was a night to remember after all. A night to make his girl happy. [/color][/font][/center]
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Post by Lauren Jennifer Cooper on Nov 10, 2006 11:24:41 GMT -5
This is what they have all been waiting for, the moment in girls’ lives that they are meant to cherish forever. Then why did Lauren feel like crap? Today, her heart was supposed to race, her hands were supposed to shake with fear and excitement. Right now she should have anticipating the moment when Matt walks up to her, but wait. Was Matt here? No. Of course he didn’t bother to show up, he hadn’t called her in weeks and he was probably off in Tokyo or something. But was that really the reason Lauren was upset? This was supposed to be when Rachel and her were laughing and joking about how much fun the after party was going to be and all the drama that was going to start.
Lauren stood by the two doors waiting for the moment her name was called. This wasn’t a big deal. She had already asked her brother to be her date, probably no one but Noelle and Rachel would realize that the hot guy dancing with her was her brother in college. He could definitely pass as her boyfriend. Not that she wanted him to…
“Lauren Cooper.” Her name was called out in that booming, monotone voice. This was it. The doors reopened for her entry and as soon as an aurora of light cast upon her she gave off a huge toothy smile. Not that it was genuine of course; she didn’t feel like smiling right now.
Her white dress clung to every curve in her body. The crystal accents on the beaded Chantilly lace sheath of her dress caught the aurora of light that shone down on her. The dress was a satin, white strapless dress. But wasn’t everyone’s? Lauren was the only one to seem to think it was boring. Probably because of her mood, to Lauren’s despite that the dress really was gorgeous. The beading and lace entwined in the dress was a key embellishment. It had a dropped waist and reached down in the back, and was shorter in the front.
All eyes were on her, well and of course. Half of Lauren’s hair was pulled back in the front, not tightly though, and the rest was hanging in loose curls that ran down her bare back. Her blue-green eyes were lined with an edgy black eyeliner and a pearly white shimmer over her eyelids.
Her long, dark eyelashes blinked a couple times before actually realizing she was supposed to meet her dad. Oh, right, forgot about that part. She took a step forward and met her dad at the top of the stair case. His dark hair (or what was left of it) was brushed back neatly and he looked crisp and clean in his black tux. Lauren and her mom were the only blondes in her family.
She met her brother right in front of the staircase. His dark brown hair fell over one green eye. He grinned and she mouthed a quick thank you. Her brother, Kelan, had always been there for her. She took his tanned hand in a firm grip as he lead her to the dance floor--but to Lauren right now the waltz with her hot brother was the not the biggest thing on her mind.
Dress
Brother
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Post by Channel Courtney Stone on Nov 12, 2006 16:49:31 GMT -5
Channel took a deep breath as she stepped out of the little dressing room. Her white Jimmy Choo high heels clicked and clacked as she walked along the hallway. This waas the monet that all the girls in the O.C had been waiting for, there moment to shine. When she got to the entrace she sucked in one last breath and closed her eyes so she wouldn't puke all of her Vera Wang orginal, that for some reason looked a little bit like Dream's colletion dress. {Oh well, Hot girls think alike I guess} was what she was thinking almost every moment since she had bought it. The dress was obviously white, as Rachel's mother had been stressing for the last couple of months. The dress went all the way down to the floor. It was strapless and hugged every inch of her curvy body. {Eat your heart out Danny.} It was smooth all the way down to her thighs where a flapper type bottom made it so she looked even thinner then she was. It didn't matter that she spent about $300 on her shoes beacuse no one could see them at all. Her blone hair fell in soft curls that framed her face. Her make-up was done by a proffsionl jst like all tghe other girls, so that it looked very natural and very beautiful.
Channel stepped back as she saw that all of the eyes in the room were on the stair case. What was she waiting for? She loved to be the center of attention so why would this be any diffrent? Maybe beacuse this day was the most important day of her pathtic little rich girl life? Hell yeah. Channel couldn't put this off any longer. Rachel still had to make her appreance, she had taken long enough.
She stepped out in the door way and put a huge smile on her face as she beagn to step down the velvet line steps. As she smiled to all of the people a million toughts were running through her mind. {Where the hell is Nick? and Ryan!!?? Damn them if they mess this up for me.} She then spotted her brother and sighed, she was so relived that he was there. When she approched the the bottam Nick had a sinister smile on his face.
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Post by Layne Hudson on Nov 12, 2006 16:56:48 GMT -5
"I love you daddy," Layne practiced over and over again, cursing under each breath each time in between. Why couldn't she have just found a date like most everyone else here? A sigh emitted her unglossed lips, and Layne found it hard not to cry. I mean, who in their right mind, new to the O.C would /want/ to be here with their father? Certainly not she, for this night was sure to go horribly wrong in her eyes. What if, by some miniscule crisis, one of the numerous O.C boys asked her to dance? Now, Mr. Hudson never really was one to judge, but she was nearly certain he wouldn't let her hear the end of it. Well, at least Layne would be going down in style. She wore a gown of white, just as all of the other girls. But hers was especially important to her for the simple fact that she hardly ever wore dresses, besides cute little retro ones, and this one was extremely elegant. The bodice was black lace, in an elaborate pattern. A silk bow sinched her midsection, completing the hourglass shape she sported. The dress flowed down to the unbearably tall stilettos she wore on her two dainty feet. Layne's hair too was intricate. It was straitened, but then curled so it held a wavy volume. A large black hair clip laced through her hair, holding it in a loose fashion. It was much like something Nicole Richie would do in this situation; which Layne guessed was a good thing. Her bangs were perfect, she had to admit. They were sideswept along her forehead, their brunette color perfect. Despite her gorgeous look, Layne was anything but happy. Being the optomistic person she was, Layne couldn't help but look on the bright side. Well, Maybe daddy will be a better dancer than he says he is, she thought, a small smile forming on her face. Layne did love her dad, more than anything. And maybe someone would muster up the courage to ask her hand in a dance. Maybe. That was all she could hope for. Hearing her name over the intercom, Layne plastered a cheeky smile on her face and took a deep breath in, pausing a moment before exhaling. She exited the large dressing room she had been in and stood at the railing edge. Glancing over to her teary-eyed father, Layne stood tall. The mind is the strongest intimidator, she repeated inside her head. Gliding over to her father, Layne linked arms with the balding man. The two made their way down the winding staircase, arm in arm. Maybe this night wouldn't be so bad. Maybe.
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Post by Rachel Louise on Nov 13, 2006 17:50:38 GMT -5
She couldn't believe that this was it. Standing at the top of the staircase, her sailboat-captain father's arm through hers, she could almost remember everything leading up to those moments, as if she were seeing the images roll by on a grainy vintage television screen.
The kiss with Danny on her father's boat. That one was almost perfect, fake--everything gleaming and airbrushed--almost like that night had been. Rachel had been--was jaded the correct word? The fight with Lauren--that one was real, rocky, the camerawork messy. It almost made Rachel tear up as the image of Lauren tossing champagne at her, angry, came up upon that screen in her mind. There were all those talks with Noelle and Spencer. There was her party. There was Scotty.
What had she done? There was the fight with Jimmy. That one came last. Almost all she could see was his amazing face, and all she could hear were the angry, shouted words. Maybe they were honest only in that second. Maybe she had loved him all along--but what was 'all along'? And what the hell was love? Everyone else seemed to know.
Images of getting manicures and pedicures with Taylor at Spa Vienna flickered by. Rachel had sat, almost unmoving, staring at the blank screen of her phone, waiting for someone--anyone to call. Nobody did. She felt selfish, because there was Taylor sitting there smiling and enjoying life, when inside she was dying. Rachel could almost understand how she felt.
Was this a breakdown?
She had gotten ready at her house, actually. No way was she planning to face all those bitches in a crowded, sweaty room. No, her mother had a makeup artist and a hairstylist come over. Rachel had, again, stood still as they primped her and prepped her, touching hair, smoothing soft eyeshadow brushes over her lids. She hadn't cried. She had wished she could, so everything would be gone.
But the mascara would run and she would still feel the same. She couldn't cry. Not tonight.
She slid her dress on, and nobody even made a comment on it. They knew Rachel, and they knew what she wanted. They also knew that she would be all right, because "this"--their choice of words--had happened so many times. But did Rachel know she was going to be all right?
She got there a half hour before she was set to go on, and watched--from a back corner--Lauren and the other girls. All beautiful, all happy, all excited. All trying to be Rachel, trying to get her chance in the spotlight. Trying to rob her. Did she care? No, not really.
It was her turn. Her mother called her name. She dropped the white silk cover-up robe she had been wearing. A few gasps were heard from the leftover ladies in the room. She was the last one there--all the other girls had gone already. Let 'em stare.
She stepped out, and the bright lights were almost too much for her. Sure, her half-back hair, framing her small, foxlike face and falling down her back in waterfall curls, looked good. It was pinned with diamond-and-silver Cartier clips, subtle and elegant. A thin, matching diamond chain--single-strand--was adorning her neck. Silver Manolo Blahnik strappy sandals hid the bottom of her dress.
The dress was amazing, in itself. It was tight around the bodice, and strapless, rouched on the chest, with a corset top. The skirt then cascaded down, brushing the floor and being held up by white-and-silver-patterned taffeta. There were little intentional wrinkles in the skirt, and Rachel filled out the dress amazingly in all areas. In was a Dolce & Gabbana. A red Dolce & Gabbana.
Rachel had changed just the tiniest bit, at least for now--but she wore a red dress against all the white and black to let everyone know that she was still there. Nobody else could ever pull off that kind of statement. It was too out-of-the-ordinary to but innappropriate, too shocking to be anything but amazing. It was a gorgeous dress. She'd gain admirers tonight.
Her father took her down the stairs, and everyone's eyes were on her. Something inside her told her to hold her chin up, so she did--she met the eyes with contempt, heartbreak, and more than anything else... dignity. They thought she was 'down.' She wasn't.
At the end of the staircase she waved her father off. He walked away, kissing her cheek and expecting a date to come and save her from the stares. No one came.
Was this--again--a statement? Well, yes, to some degree. But Rachel hadn't organized a date. She wanted to see... she had no idea. She just wanted a dance. She wanted, for one night, to be like everyone else. To look into a guy's eyes and know that she loved him, know that if it was going to end in a week, or a day, or an hour... she could still live in the moment.
But she couldn't. Nobody was going to come for her. All she could do was... wait. Her chin was up, her eyes were sparkling--with tears, this time, just a little bit. Would anybody understand? No. Her hand went to her skirt, pulling it up a bit, as if poised to step and begin dancing. She waited.
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Post by Louis Solderini on Nov 14, 2006 16:57:27 GMT -5
Oh, Noelle had looked wonderful, good choice in dress too he thought. But that was Noelle for you, she was good at that kind of thing. He continued to watch the girls as they came down with their father's and then would meet their escorts and dance. Blah, so boring, so dull. Noelle's friend, the one in red...just standing there with no escort. He'd come here for Noelle, because his uncle had dragged him here to his dismay. Here he was standing among all these Americans in a tuxedo, not exactly his idea of a great way to spend the night. A black tux was worn a black vest worn underneath, he didn't exactly like the vest, but he really had no one to impress here. No one. A silk red tie was also worn on the male. It looked quite nice on Louis. Finally deciding that he would save his cousin's friend from embarrassment, out of simple love for his cousin really, he stepped forward, finding it slightly amusing that his tie matched her red dress. Well here Louis was, to Miss Rachel's rescue. He took her then, to dance as they were supposed to.
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Post by Rachel Louise on Nov 15, 2006 19:07:44 GMT -5
Rachel glanced at the guy who had apparently come to "save" her. Odd, really, that she had never in her life seen him before--well, maybe once, at a garden party with Noelle, perhaps. Her cousin, something with an L? Well, he was no Jimmy, but she supposed him would do. A desperate look was flung out at the crowd in general, and possibly her dancing partner as well, as she placed her hand on his shoulder, and did the same with her hand--his was much larger than her own. She didn't fail to notice that his tie was the same color as her dress, and that he had very nice eyes. Things became sharper during the waltz, at least for Rachel. She had no clue why. As they stepped away, she looked around at everyone's eyes on her. Of course Rachel Schellenberg had managed to snag one of the hottest guys in the place. The buffet tables were set up. The dance floor was clear, and the DJ was already choosing his mix for the night. Let the party begin!
ooc; Guys--let's go!
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Post by Eva Lilly Turner on Nov 15, 2006 19:37:08 GMT -5
Eva ran her fingers through her hair, which was worn tonight in spiral curls, cascading gently, framing her face nicely. She walked up behind her escort Jeremy and slid her arms around his waist, "Wanna dance, handsome?" She whispered this softly in his ear, coming around to face him. She looked up into his eyes with her honey brown ones, and smiled.
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Post by zannaarquett on Nov 15, 2006 22:10:20 GMT -5
"The waltz wasn't as bad as I thought it would be," Zanna admitted, laughing a bit nervously. "I honestly thought I was going to fall or pass out or something...and that wouldn't have been much fun. Especially the passing out thing...You'd catch me if I passed out, right?" she asked, surveying Devin's face as she waited for an answer. Turning away, she now looked to find Drek--she knew he was coming. Oh. There he was. Making eye contact with the boy, she smiled and put on that 'come here' look. [/color][/size]
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Post by Devin McKayAnd Drek McKay on Nov 15, 2006 22:26:10 GMT -5
Devin nodded "Yeah"He said queitly. "I woulda caught you." Drek got up from his table and walked over while Devin fumbled with his coat buttons and unbuttoned it sticking his hands in his pockets. Devin was still on edge. It was so out of place for him to be anyplace formal.. He just didn't fit here. His brother did, but he didn't.
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