Tide

He was the epitome of beauty; his cerulean eyes gleaming like sapphires that bore into my very soul, matching the indigo of my gown. I fidgeted against the lacy sweetheart neckline that framed my broad shoulders nicely and gave me a bit more cleavage than I actually had. I bit my bottom lip: my go-to nervous tic.

Around the ballroom, couples swirled in time to the rise and lilt of the orchestra's waltz. I couldn't keep my eyes off of him--clad in white like an angel with perfect posture to match his celestial presence--as I stood against the wall by the door, ready to exit at the first inkling of discomfort. 

When he caught my eye, I quickly looked away, focusing on an imaginary spot on the gleaming wood floor and gnawing on my lip even more. I heard footsteps approaching and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bottom of white tuxedo pants with matching dress shoes. I knew it was him before I raised my gaze to see this incredible specimen before me. Quite tall with piercing blue eyes, dark wavy hair perfectly coiffed, Adonis-like physique, and a warm smile of straight and impossibly white teeth to match his tuxedo.

"May I have this dance, lovely miss?" he asked in a deeply sensual voice.

My thoughts were racing as if I were drunk, yet I hadn't had a drop. My head swirled, and my throat was dry. I could feel my heart pounding in my ears. I was alternatingly clenching and releasing my hands, now sweaty with anxiety. I swallowed--no, gulped--cleared my throat, and said the first thing that came into my mind. "How do you get your clothes so white? Bleach?"

He chuckled. Mortified, I turn and ran out the door.