Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Debutante Ball

Dylan stood just inside the ballroom, nerves twisting in his stomach as he scanned the elegant scene before him. The grand space was breathtaking, bathed in soft golden light from the chandeliers overhead, while soft classical music played in the background. Girls from Crestwood Academy floated across the room, their skirts swishing and gowns shimmering in shades of pastels and deep, luxurious tones. The students moved in small groups, laughing and chatting as they mingled.

Dylan's gown—a yellow skirt which puffed at the waist and sleeves and cinched at the bodice. He tugged at the waistline, trying to ignore the tightness and the subtle itch of the fabric against his skin. He felt out of place, but there was no turning back now.

Marcus, who stood beside him in a pastel green gown that flowed with every slight movement, looked positively thrilled. "This really isn't so bad" Marcus whispered, glancing at the room with wide eyes. "I feel like we're royalty."

Dylan smiled weakly. Marcus was loving every second of this charade. "Yeah... sure," Dylan echoed, though it felt more like a nightmare to him. His feet were already aching from the unfamiliar heels, and the idea of making small talk with strangers only added to his discomfort.

Aaron and Kyle weren't faring much better. Aaron, looked like he was barely holding it together. His lilac gown and big bow in his hair suited him, but the rigid posture and clenched jaw made it clear how uncomfortable he was. Kyle, stood close by, managing to keep his composure, though Dylan could tell he was just as nervous.

The sound of laughter drew Dylan's attention as a group of boys from the local boys' private school walked into the ballroom. Dressed in sharp tuxedos, they looked every bit the part of charming escorts, but what Dylan couldn't shake was the knowledge that these boys had no idea he and his friends weren't actually girls.

As the boys began to disperse into the crowd, mingling with the Crestwood students, Dylan felt his pulse quicken. He could feel the eyes of the teachers on him from across the room—Ms. Abbot, in particular, was watching them closely, clipboard in hand, grading everything from their posture to their conversation skills.

Dylan took a deep breath. He had to get through this without slipping up.

Just as he tried to inch back into the comfort of his group, one of the boys approached. He was tall, with neatly styled dark hair and a confident smile. Dylan's stomach flipped as the boy made eye contact and extended a hand.

"Hi there," the boy said warmly. "Mind if I join you?"

Dylan hesitated, glancing briefly at Marcus before stepping forward. "Not at all." His voice came out a bit higher than usual, a nervous attempt at staying in character. "I'm Diana."

The boy smiled, clearly not noticing anything out of place. "It is very nice to meet you, Diana. I'm Matt Schaffer."

Dylan forced a smile, nodding politely. "It is nice to meet you too." His heart was racing, but he couldn't afford to mess this up. "Are you from the local school?"

Matt nodded. "Yeah, I'm one of the volunteers. My school does this every year, but this is the first time I've been invited." He gestured to the room. "It's pretty fancy, huh?"

Dylan glanced around, trying to come up with a response that wouldn't betray how uncomfortable he felt. "Yes, it is. Crestwood really knows how to put on an event."

Marcus, eager to keep the conversation going, jumped in with a bright smile. "I'm Maya, by the way," he said, offering his hand. "What do you think of our dresses?"

Matt's gaze shifted, and he smiled politely. "You both look great. Very elegant."

Dylan nodded, trying to play along. "Thank you. It's... not something we usually wear." Understatement of the century, he thought to himself, but kept the smile on his face.

Another boy, shorter and with sandy blonde hair, approached and nodded at Aaron and Kyle. "Mind if I join you two?" he asked.

Aaron looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin, but he offered a stiff smile. "Of course you can, I'm Alana Cross," he said, his voice strained but maintaining the pretense. Kyle followed suit, introducing himself as Katie Kelly.

The boys exchanged pleasantries, the tension in the air palpable as everyone made small talk. The conversation quickly turned to school activities and their favorite classes, with the volunteer boys eagerly sharing details about their experiences at the local school.

"So, Miss Diana," Matt said, turning his attention back to Dylan, "what do you like to do for fun when not at Crestwood?"

Dylan hesitated. He hadn't exactly prepared for this kind of questioning, but he knew he had to keep up the charade. "Oh, you know, the usual sort of thing, shopping, hanging out with friends," he said, keeping his answer vague.

Matt chuckled. "Oh, right on! I'm more of a sports guy."

Dylan laughed nervously, thankful that the conversation was staying light. He noticed Aaron struggling to maintain conversation with the boy beside him, while Kyle seemed to have found a rhythm in his own interaction. Marcus, unsurprisingly, was thriving, charming the boys with ease as he chatted about fashion and Crestwood's classes.

As the social hour wore on, more Crestwood girls joined their small group, adding to the flow of conversation. One of the girls from Dylan's Equestrian Club, Emma, introduced herself to the Kyle and Aaron. "What do you all think of the event so far?" she asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

"It's very sophisticated. But I like it," Kyle replied, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in his heels. "Definitely different from anything I've done before."

"You're telling me," Aaron muttered under his breath.

Emma smiled but didn't seem to notice Aaron's discomfort. "You all look so stunning," she said brightly, her gaze sweeping over the group. "Are you all excited for the Waltz?"

The mention of dancing sent another wave of anxiety through Dylan. He'd managed to survive the small talk, but the waltz? That was going to be another level of difficulty altogether.

However, just as Dylan thought about how much worse the evening could get, the announcement was made and the music shifted to the first soft notes of a waltz, Dylan's stomach sank. His palms felt clammy as he stood there, waiting for the inevitable. The social hour had been hard enough—awkward small talk, pretending to be interested in conversations about favorite subjects and future plans—but the dance was a whole different challenge.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find Matt smiling down at him. The boy's hand was outstretched, ready to lead him onto the dance floor. "Shall we?"

Dylan hesitated for a heartbeat, his mind scrambling for an escape. But there was none. The teachers were watching, grading, and he knew he couldn't afford to falter now. He forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace, and slipped his hand into Matt's.

Matt guided him toward the center of the ballroom, where the other Crestwood girls and volunteer boys were pairing off. Dylan caught a glimpse of Aaron, rigid and glaring as his own partner led him toward the dance floor, and Marcus practically glowing with enthusiasm as he floated beside his partner with a beaming smile.

But Dylan's focus quickly shifted back to the boy in front of him. Matt was taller, and the hand that clasped his felt warm, firm. Dylan could feel the strength in the way Matt held him, the soft pressure of fingers resting against his lower back. His skin prickled at the contact, his entire body tensing with an unease he couldn't shake. It wasn't that Matt was unpleasant; he seemed perfectly nice. It was the situation—being this close to a guy, acting like a girl, that made his heart pound in his chest.

The music swelled, and they began to move. Dylan concentrated on the steps they had learned in etiquette class, trying to mimic the way his partner led him. Each step felt stilted, awkward, as though his body were rebelling against the unfamiliar movements. His feet ached in the tight heels, and the skirt of his gown brushed against his legs in a way that made him feel out of place.

Matt's voice cut through his thoughts. "You're doing great, Diana," he said, smiling down at him. "It's not easy keeping up with these formal dances."

Dylan swallowed hard, nodding but unable to form words. The proximity of Matt was overwhelming—his cologne, the warmth of his body, the way his hand seemed so steady and sure as it guided Dylan around the floor. It was like everything about this moment was designed to make Dylan feel smaller, more fragile, more... feminine.

His cheeks burned with the realization of just how intimate this felt. The hand on his waist, the slight pressure pulling him closer, the steady rhythm of Matt's movements. It was nothing like dancing with a girl back home at some high school event. Here, he was the one being led, swept across the floor as though he were the delicate one, as though he belonged in the flowing dress and heels.

Dylan's breath caught in his throat as Matt twirled him gently, the room spinning for a moment before they fell back into the rhythm of the waltz. The teachers' eyes burned into him from the edges of the ballroom, and he knew they were watching his every move—grading his posture, his confidence, his ability to move with grace.

But every time Matt's hand brushed the small of his back, or their gazes met for too long, a wave of discomfort rose in Dylan's chest. He had never been this close to another guy before, not in this way. Not in a way where he was supposed to feel graceful, delicate, and... meek.

"You're amazing, Diana. A born natural," Matt said with another charming smile, pulling Dylan even closer as they swayed to the music.

Dylan's lips twitched into a tight smile. "Thank you," he managed, though the word came out softer and quieter then he intended. His pulse was racing, his mind spinning with conflicting emotions—half desperate to get this over with, and half determined not to mess up the act. The teachers would notice if he faltered, if he gave anything away. He had to keep it together.

But the closeness was suffocating. He could feel Matt's breath when he spoke, the warmth of his body radiating through the fabric of his dress. Every time their steps synchronized, it sent a strange jolt of awareness through him—how easy it was for Matt to guide him, how natural it felt to follow.

And that was the worst part. It did feel natural. Despite the awkwardness, despite the fact that Dylan was pretending to be someone he wasn't, the dance itself flowed smoothly after a while. His body moved almost without thinking, the result of weeks of practice and drills in etiquette class. And Matt... he didn't seem to suspect a thing. He saw Diana—a girl in a pretty dress, smiling politely, dancing like all the other girls in the room.

That realization sat heavy in Dylan's chest. For all the discomfort, for all the awkwardness and uncertainty, the truth was that he was blending in. The teachers wouldn't find any faults in his performance tonight. He was exactly what they wanted him to be.

But as Matt's hand slipped lower on his back, gently nudging him into another subtle drop, Dylan's stomach churned. The room spun again, the lights blurring, and for a moment, all he could think about was how strange it felt to be seen this way. To be seen as someone—something—he wasn't.

The waltz slowed, and with it, the intensity of the moment began to fade. Matt's hand released from his back, and Dylan felt a flood of relief as the music came to a gentle stop. He took a step back, smoothing his skirt and trying to steady his breath. His feet throbbed, and the heat of the ballroom was stifling, but at least it was over.

Matt smiled down at him, his expression easy and kind. "Thanks for the dance, Diana. You're really good at this."

Dylan nodded stiffly, offering a faint smile in return. "Thank you. You were very good yourself."

As Matt turned to rejoin his friends, Dylan took a deep breath and glanced around the room. Aaron was still awkwardly locked in place with his partner, grimacing as they fumbled through the last few steps, while Kyle and Marcus seemed to be adjusting much better.

But for Dylan, the relief of being free from Matt's hold was immense. The teachers had seen what they wanted to see—a flawless performance. But deep down, Dylan couldn't shake the feeling of how strange it all was. The proximity, the intimacy, the way he was being seen not as himself, but as someone else entirely.

As he stepped off the dance floor and back into the crowd, his chest felt tight. The night wasn't over yet, but he was already counting down the minutes until it was.