Arwen stared glumly out the window and sighed. Homecoming night it was. She had the dress. It was a gorgeous thing, crimson with a fitted top and a poofy skirt, with sequins in all the good places.
She had the shoes. They went well with the dress, they didn't hurt her feet (yet) and the heels were precisely the length to have the hem of the skirt just brush the floor. She had the hair. It was nicely dressed, well enough to go formal in, with enough hairspray that it would stay that way 'till Doomesday.
But she didn't have a date.
This is SO going to suck, she thought.
"Honey? When do you want to go?"
Arwen looked up. "I'll be going in a few minutes, Mom."
The doorbell rang. Arwen didn't move, knowing it wasn't for her.
Only one of her sister's friends would be coming by at this hour on a Saturday night, or it was a delivery guy.
She heard the door open and her father greet whoever it was. She heard his feet approach her door and stop.
"Arwen? Your date's here."
She jumped up and opened the door. Her father stood there, his hand raised to knock again, and right behind him, stellar in a tux, holding a bouquet of white roses, stood...
He walked forward, bowed formally and presented the flowers to her.
She took them and smelled them. White roses- her favorite- how had he known?
He offered her his arm and she took it. Arm and arm, they swept out of the house and out to his waiting car.
Homecoming was a blast, after all.
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