[CONTENTID1]Watering a Wallflower[/CONTENTID1]

[CONTENTID2]A tight corset, a swishing gown, heavy perfume and styled hair. A ballroom filled with pastel colors, lighted chandeliers to set the mood, music humming through the air from the live orchestra, dancing in the center and knowing glances passed between strangers.

I watch all of it from the sidelines as I squish myself against a wall, becoming the literal wallflower of my generation. My dance card has no names written on it, my gloved hand has yet to settle inside another, and it’s already been two hours of leaning against a wall and observing.

My older sister, the beauty of the Season, moves with grace and elegance as her dance partner twirls her around effortlessly. Her golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes make any male fall to his knees, their hearts thumping with love.

I am the complete opposite.

I have dull brown hair and eyes, my face is plain compared to her heart-shaped frame. I’m used to this, though, to my sister gathering the attention of the general public. I’m used to standing to the side, males walking up to me only to ask about her.

Save for one.

Just one.

He walks up to me with a confident yet lazy stride, his eyes latched to mine even though I keep shifting my gaze away.

He’s taller than I am, he smells good, and his eyes hold a secret inside of them that I wish to unlock if only my shy demeanor would allow me to.

The male stands before me, a hand offered out, and he holds it there patiently. “Dance with me, love.”

I stare at his hand for the longest time, caught off guard because shouldn’t this handsome and striking male be asking for my sister rather than little old me?

“I find you much more interesting.”

I realize all too late I’ve spoken out loud.

He leans down, his eyes glittering with a hidden humor only I can see. “Give me a chance to show you what I mean, love.”

I like his endearment he’s given me, but I wonder just how many other females have heard the same word fall from his lips. I, nonetheless, take his offered hand, his fingers easily wrapping around mine, and he gently pulls me away from my comfort zone, away from my wall.

The dance is slow, side to side swaying as he holds me closely, an arm wrapped around my waist that burns through my clothes.

The music changes.

Everyone follows the beat, partnering up and switching around as if on cue, and I can only join in the group dance as the male detaches himself, having to follow the invisible steps.

Only to eventually partner with my sister.

My heart drops. I watch as the two lock eyes, my sister’s dazzling smile surely capturing his heart, and I feel my own heart drop from the sight.

The music changes.

I quickly pull away from the dancers, finding my mother and whispering to her that I wish to step outside for just a bit.

To get some air.

To breathe.

To stop thinking about the first male to notice me suddenly turn his gaze to my sister.

I place my hands on the balcony as the evening air breezes through my hair, the wind cold against my arms. It feels nice, though, and I clos