A/N--Short and somewhat of a filler chapter ahead you guys, just to warn you.  But I do find it quite adorable and I hope you all do too and that YOU COMMENT FOR ME :) haha.  I'm not trying to be like those irritating ones who fish for comments, but they do motivate me and let me know that you like what I'm working on! So yeah.

Vote and comment if you want to be awesome!  And the pic on the side is of Hallie's dad :) I absolutely love Blake Shelton, simply because of how he is on The Voice.  He's freaking hilarious and adorable and I love him.

Just shoot me now. 

Like in the forehead or something; anything fast. 

I'm wearing a dress, my hair is pinned and sprayed into this updo thing, and my nails are silver and sparkly. 

I feel like a princess, a feeling I've never actually wanted to feel. I'm more of the tomboy, would rather run around in sneakers or even better yet do absolutely nothing all day. But I am not that right now. Oh no I am not. 

Instead I am a girl wearing this light blue one-shouldered gown that's tight in the chest area, but that lightly flows outwards until it hits the floor. It's actually a gorgeous dress, and if I didn't have to wear it and feel completely inadequate in doing so, I'd love it dearly. But I just feel like someone much more gorgeous should be able to wear this, to showcase it how it should be. My boobs are too small to fill out the top portion, and my waist line not sunken in enough to show of the pretty silver Grecian rope that holds it tight.  

And I have arm fat. 

Ugh. 

My mom and Darla, though, seem to have completely different opinions when it comes to me wearing this. Darla is extremely jealous, and hasn't left her little pity party which is currently taking place on my bed, and my mom really just can't stop cooing over it and how pretty I look in it. 

And her cooing over anything really is just weird in itself, honestly. 

"How long do I have to wear this again?" I ask her, once again raking over my body in the mirror and pointing out every single minute flaw. It's terrible for my body image I know, I've read the articles, but it still doesn't stop me from doing it. 

My mom lightly swats at the one completely exposed shoulder and says, "Hush it, Hallie. You look gorgeous and I'm not going to let you and your pissed-at-the-world mood ruin it." 

"I'm not pissed at the world," I tell her sternly, but then mumble underneath my breath, "Just this damn dress." 

"This is a Vera Wang," my sister informs me dumbly, as if this is just something that I should know of. I mean forgive me that I'm not into designers anything. I don't know anything about them, and I don't really care. I'm far too comfortable in thirty dollar jeans and band T-shirts to think twice about designers. 

"Awesome," I say, but you can easily tell in my voice that I could care less. And I know that my mom is a bit annoyed because she'd be the one wearing such a nice dress if I hadn't had to steal her seat at the banquet as damage control, and Darla too really, so I'm trying to be thankful. I really am. It's just hard when I feel so damn stupid wearing this. 

I can practically feel my mom roll her eyes at this statement, but luckily she doesn't say anything. Instead she just comes to stand in front of me, her dainty hands on my shoulders, and runs her eyes intricately over my face, making sure that I'm all in place. 

Once she seems to be happy with what she sees, she takes a step back and asks me, "You're wearing deodorant, right?" 

Now it's my turn to roll my eyes at her. I may not dress up all of the time and maybe I don't know how to apply eyeliner all the well, but I can at least be trusted to put on fucking deodorant. Christ. "Yes, mom. Geez. Give me some credit." 

"You can never be too sure," she says, and then after lightly spraying me with some of her expensive perfume, she says, "Ok, now you need to go. Get your dad and Ethan, figure out wherever they are and then just drag their asses out, alright? Y'all need to be there at six thirty and it's almost five." 

"Okay," I tell her begrudgingly, just the thought of this whole thing putting nerves in the pit of my stomach. 

And with that, she basically pushes me out of my own bedroom. When I get to the staircase I have to grasp at my dress and pull the bottom up, knowing that a long dress and my coordination skills will probably not mesh well.  

Luckily, I find my dad and Ethan already standing near the front door, looking more ready to go than I am. My dad looks like he normally does when he goes out to these things, his usual curly hair slicked back and looking stylish, while a nice and fitted suit makes him much classier than he actually is.  

Ethan, though, looks absolutely delectable and I have this horrible feeling in my stomach that I'm going to be quite territorial of him the whole evening. I know how industry girls get-I've seen them around my dad enough-and I don't really want my first nice friend to be tainted by one. I'd honestly be pretty upset if he brought some wannabe blonde country singing bimbo home with him.  

When they hear me come in they both look up, and I'm too self-conscience to even look over at Ethan. But my dad, thankfully, has an almost proud look on his face as I walk up to him. He says, "You look beautiful, honey. Thank God you got my genes and not your mothers." 

"Heard that!" my mom's voice says in the background, and when I turn around I see her and Darla descending the staircase, a camera painfully unmistakable in her hand. "But I do need to take pictures. Hallie never dresses up so I need to document the occasion." 

"You really don't," I grimace, knowing how utterly plain and boring I'll look standing next to my superstar of a dad and the godly looking Ethan.  

My dad chuckles and before I even know what's happening, he's wrapped an arm around my waist and is turning us around so that we're facing my mom. I give her a quick smile for the picture, just to humor her, and I can just feel my cheeks turning pink at all of the unwelcomed attention. Everyone's eyes are on my father and I and it's killing me. 

"Alright," my mom says, "Now one with all three of you." 

I groan underneath my breath as Ethan walks in front of us so that he's standing on my other side, and even though I thought I would be the only one to hear, I hear him chuckle in response. I don't have time to stick my tongue out at him in response though, because he's already threading his arm across my waist as well, and his touch on me, even through fabric, has once again rendered me speechless. 

I honestly don't know what it is with this kid, but it's weird and it's freaking me out. His touching me should not affect me as much as it does. I'm not even this affected when Jesse randomly hugs me. I don't know how to handle it. 

We all three smile for that picture, and just when I think I'm done, my mom says, "Babe, get out the pic. We need one with just the two young ones." 

I roll my eyes and go to say something in retort, but I hear Ethan say jokingly underneath his breath, "Oh suck it up," just to where the two of us can hear it. 

Forgetting about the picture and the fact that we're in front of my family, I turn to face him and say, "Shut up, ass wipe." 

He immediately barks out in laughter, and it's not too long before my dad joins right on in. My mom and Darla, though, are appalled that I'd even use such language around a guy. That's just because they don't know me all that well. They should know that I rarely ever use manners around people, that's just not who I am. 

My mom scolds me, "Hallie!" 

"What?" I demand, reluctantly turning from Ethan's adorable smile and facing her instead. She doesn't say anything as an answer; instead she just shakes her head at me as if to tell me enough.  

I just smile evilly at her. 

XXXXXX 

"So how much you think that lady spent on her dress?" Ethan asks quietly as he leans over closer to my chair. 

We've been at this banquet for about an hour now, and after three different interviews (one of which I had to do alone) and random socializing with friends of my dads, we've finally been seated for dinner. Thank God. All of this mindless chattering with people whom I could really care less about - no one I'm a huge fan of is here - has made me extremely hungry. And it's not just me either. 

Since it was my dad's job to introduce Ethan to people in the industry and I had to play the role of the perfect daughter who laughed at all of her father's jokes, Ethan and I have been pretty much tagged along everywhere. And I'm not going to lie; it really hasn't been half bad. Sure it's been boring, but it could have been much worse.  

I could not have had Ethan there to suffer through with me. Besides, he kept making jokes about the people we were with, lightly mocking them in my ear so that we were the only ones who could hear. Turns out that the kid is actually really funny when he's making fun of people. Who knew? Even though it was extremely judgmental of me, at first I thought that Ethan was so good and polite that he didn't make fun of people. 

Turns out I was very, very wrong. 

And I love that I was. 

Looking across the table at my dad and making sure that he's too busy talking to his producer, I cross my legs underneath the table and then lean in closer to Ethan. My eyes flicker up at his ridiculously long eye lashes as I say back, "Probably more than it cost for the Beamer we rode here in." 

I feel a bit prideful when I see his lips stretch into a smile, and then l lean back in my chair when a waiter comes around the side of me and slides a plate of salad in front of me. Although I'm not a huge veggie eater, the sight of any sort of food makes my stomach grumble in appreciation. 

All of this being polite and happy has made me extremely hungry. 

After everyone's been served I finally dig in, in every sense of the word really. If my mom were here she'd probably lecture me about not being ladylike in front of others, but I really don't care. My dad won't give me hell about it and Ethan's already told me that he finds it cool that I'm not all prim and proper. Anyone else at this table and I could give a rat's ass about them. 

So I'm going to eat however the hell I want to. 

The entire meal consists of the salad, a delicious plate of alfredo pasta with the option of grilled chicken on top, the most amazing bread I've ever had in my life, and a giant brownie for those who aren't watching their figures. And not only that, but they served everyone champagne that surprisingly wasn't disgusting as a drink, even the underage like me. 

By the time dinner's over and done with, I'm fat and happy as well as a bit on the tipsy side. I'm probably the worst lightweight the world's ever seen, getting pretty much done after one mixed drink, but I've never complained. It's cheaper and easier than the normal drinkers.  

I'm glad, though, because being a bit drunk makes the speeches and awards given out a lot less boring to get through. Well, that, and the fact that Ethan's also a bit on the tipsy side-he's gone through twice the amount of drinks I have-and has been making even more jokes than he did earlier.  

Not only that, but somewhere during the middle of the meal he leaned his leg against my own, and even though it was a bit weird at first, I've come to love it. It keeps me warm and it reminds me that he's here and that I'm not alone during this whole professional and fancy banquet thing.  

When the whole banquet is over and my dad feels like he's impressed enough people and introduced Ethan to everyone necessary, we all head out into the warm summer night and into my dad's chauffeured car. I'd sat on the hump in the middle on the way here, seeing as how I'm the smallest and my dad didn't think about using a bigger car, but when I stand back so that Ethan can slide in first to the other side, he shakes his head and says, "Sit on the side, you had to have the hump on the way here." 

"But I'm the smallest and the girl," I argue, not wanting him to feel put out or anything. Honestly, sitting on the hump doesn't bother me. It means I get to sit closer to him which shouldn't really be a reason but it is. He smells good, okay? 

He rolls his eyes for and says in a playfully stern manner, "Get in the car, Hallie." 

"Fine," I harrumph, but I can't help but smile like a giddy school girl when I climb all the way to the side spot in the back of the car. I'm truly not used to people doing such nice things for me, and for these nice things to come from such a good looking guy makes it even better. 

Feeling a bit more confident than I usually am when it comes to guys, I make sure not sit all the way against the side door so that I have to sit closer to him, knowing that he's not going to sit close to my dad because that'd just be awkward. And sure enough, when he slides in, he slides to where the whole side of his body is pressed lightly against mine. 

Lovely. 

I sigh in contentment, and then once my dad's in and the lights in the car have been shut off, I immediately fall into one of the most comfortable moods ever. It's dark as ever in the back of the car, the only light source coming from the dashboard ahead of us, and that mixed with the alcohol makes me quite sleepy. 

But since I rarely ever get to be so close to someone so cute and comfortable, I make sure that I stay awake for as much as I can of it. I really don't want to miss this. Still, though, our house is quite a drive away from the banquet hall-about an hour, actually-and somewhere throughout the quiet lull of the street running beneath us and my dad's heavy breathing-he fell asleep right when his car door shut-I find myself starting to loll off into unconsciousness. 

I'm not even thinking about my head leaning towards Ethan until it's resting on his shoulder, and he's leaning further back so that I'm more comfortable. I hear him say quietly in my ear, "You can sleep, if you'd like," and that's all I need for my eyes to close shut and for me to drift off to sleep.