Miss Masquerade

Maria's POV

The first thing I saw was the mask. The boy's mask was simple: black, leather, and 'mysterious'. That's the idea, right?

Then I saw he was dressed in a black blazer, opened, and a white shirt. He was wearing dressy pants, and boots. Then I saw his hair. Curls. The little brown locks every girl on campus dreams to get their fingers into someday. If he really knew who I was, he wouldn't want to dance.

But, he didn't.

" Sure," I say with a smile. He holds out his hand and I take it, following him as he makes our way to the 'dance floor'.

He stops in the middle, and takes my waist. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, slightly blushing. Oh, Harry. The things you do to me.

"I'm Harry, by the way," he said.

"Oh, I know. I can see your hair," I joked. He rolled what I could see of his eyes.

"Very funny. I meant the NAME," he says. I make a 'OH' sound. He rolls them again.

"So, who are you, Miss Masquerade? What's your secret identity?" I didn't answer.

Harry started to spin me in a circle, and I was actually quite good. My aunt was a dancer, and I was good at it. The genes, I suppose.

"Are you a friend of Spencer's," he pressed.

"No, Harry. I'm a burglar, looking for a partner in crime," I say with a joking voice.

"Hey, people come uninvited sometimes," he says and removes his hands from my waist to put them up in surrender before putting them back.

"I really like your mask. It's beautiful, really." I thank the boy I've had a crush on for so many years. This is the first time we've actually talked, though. I'm a stalker, aren't I?

By the end of the night, Harry and I are still dancing. We've done everything that night together, and people keep asking who I am.

"Miss Masquerade, Miss Masquerade," I repeat at the repetitive question.

Notes

I hate Mondays.

This is me all day:

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