Lark by Erica Cope Read Free Book Online Page B

it.
                  Grey picks me up about a half an hour later. He looks dashing of course. I can only hope I look half as good in my dress as he looks in his nicely fitted khakis, dress shirt and tie. Which is just wrong. Even the plainest girl in the world should still feel prettier than her date. I suppose when your date is Greyson St. Clair, that is a nearly impossible feat to accomplish. 
                  “Wow. You are stunning.” His eyes sparkle as I make my way down the stairs.
                  I guess Hannah was right all along about this whole make-up thing. Who would have known a little mascara and pink-tinted lips would get such a reaction out of Grey?             
    “Thanks.” I blush and reply, “You don't look too bad yourself.” Swoon-worthy is what I actually am thinking, but I restrain myself. Just friends, remember? Just friends. You can't be swooning over your just friend. The way he is staring at me is making me so self-conscious. But his eyes are so captivating that I can't seem to stop staring back at him.
                  “Oh, honey!” My mom squeals as she turns the corner, toting her camera, as always. “You look gorgeous! I really love that color on you.”
                  She snaps a quick candid shot before Paul and Maddie enter the living room.
                  “You guys make a sharp looking couple,” Paul says rather embarrassingly. He’s such an old guy.
                  “Mi-mi! Pitty!” Maddie exclaims happily as she reaches for me.
                  “Oh no you don't, messy girl! We don't want to ruin Mia's pretty dress before the dance. Bath time for Maddie!” Paul says as he heads up the stairs with my sister. “Have a great time at the dance kids. Grey, you better take good care of my daughter.”
                  “Yes, sir.” Grey’s voice is tight, almost like something has made him uncomfortable all of a sudden. I really hope my parents aren’t freaking him out.
                  “I'll have her home by midnight, Mrs. Carrington.” His voice is much warmer as he speaks to my mother.
                  “Wait! You can't go yet,” my mom stops us. “I'm not done taking pictures yet! This is a special occasion! I have to document every moment.”
                  “Mom, it’s just a dance,” I sigh.
    I’m used to her sentimental ways. I wouldn’t be surprised if she started singing Barbra Streisand’s The Way We Were like she does when she is feeling particularly sappy about me growing up too fast. The thought makes me groan inwardly, but Grey cracks a smile. I am glad he finds her amusing, because at times like this, I just think she is annoying.
                  “But it’s not just any dance, Mia. This is your Homecoming. The first dance of your very last year of high school. It’s a huge deal,” she says as she wipes a fresh tear out of the corner of her eyes.
                  “Oh Mom, please don’t start crying!” Oh my goodness this is so humiliating.
                  “Sorry, I just can’t believe you are a Senior. It seems like just yesterday--”
                  “Moooommmmm!” I really hope she isn’t going to start breaking out the photo albums of my childhood.
                  “Honey, let the kids go already,” Paul calls down from the stairs in good humor. “You’re going to make them late for the dance!”
                  “Oh fine, just a few more pictures,” she promises. 
    When the customary pre-dance photography session is finally complete to her satisfaction, my mother kisses my cheek, tells me I look beautiful again, and then finally Grey and I are able to make our escape. He didn’t rent a limo or anything for the evening, which is completely fine by me. This is the first time I have been in his truck.