theycalledmeacurse: (elegant)
[personal profile] theycalledmeacurse
[Takes place after this text exchange.]

Rogue was shaking like a leaf and it was stupid.

No, scratch that. This whole thing was stupid.

Why had she ever agreed to going out like this? And with Remy of all people! Yes, she was attracted to him, but she had also heard about his extensive list of conquests and perpetual Ladies' Man status. And while she might have encouraged him with some flirting, it was just supposed to be a bit of fun. She flirted with everyone, it was how she communicated - he wasn't supposed to flirt back and actually mean it. None of them were, but especially not him.

She took a deep breath and checked her makeup in the mirror again, making sure for the eighth time that she hadn't smudged her mascara and that her lipstick wasn't too dark. An hour had been spent on her hair and makeup, and she hadn't dared enlist the help of one of her friends in case they decided to make a joke out of it and tease her. They probably wouldn't even realize they were doing it or that it would bother her, and that was why she avoided the situation all together. She might put on the tough girl act, but underneath it all she was as fragile as the rest of them, maybe even more so because of her lack of experience.

And why had she told him that?!

Adjusting her dress again, she took one last look in the mirror. The black wrap dress had short sleeves, but the accompanying long black gloves left only about two inches of skin bare on her upper arm, and it was the best she could manage with her limited wardrobe. Again, she wasn't about to go borrowing something when that would just lead to a chorus of needling questions. The hem reached just above her knee, meaning she had to wear hose (which she hated), and the shoes were going to be death of her before the night was over, she just knew it. The kitten heels were new and the only things she owned that would remotely go with the dress, and she was already dreading the way her feet would be aching after a night of dancing. Her jewelry was gold, simple, and she'd changed the whole outfit at least a dozen times that evening.

Dates were stressful. Especially dates with Remy LeBeau.

Because at the root of it all, she knew her anxiety and resistance were because she was terrified. She was terrified of falling in love with him, of hurting him, of having him hurt her. Despite years of working toward controlling her powers, being repeatedly assured that it was physically possible, she was still no closer to actually achieving anything beyond having a slightly firmer hold on the menagerie of psyches crammed into her head. How could he be possibly be okay with that?

6:55. She was supposed to meet Remy outside at 7:00. Grabbing her handbag, she threw up a silent prayer to the universe that they would both make it through the night in one piece before hurrying through the mansion.

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At the Mercy of Fate and Fortune

June 2017

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