Straightening your dress, tu look out the tinted window of the car. A small, almost inaudible sigh escapes your lips as tu see just how many fans and reporters it is out there. tu look up to the rear-view mirror when tu hear your driver clear his throat.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Y/L/N. tu look stunning tonight.” The driver, Mr. Rogers, smiles at you. Feeling a blush cover your cheeks, tu bolso, monedero your lips.
“Thank you, John.” tu say softly, inhaling deeply just as another man opens your door.
Grabbing your purse, tu plaster a smile on your face and get out of the car. Shouts and hollers...
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