Tangled In Time

Entwined

When we returned to the main house, the party was in full swing. The entrance hall buzzed with lively conversation and laughter, clusters of guests leaning against the bannisters or perched casually on the stairs. As we stepped into the ballroom, the booming rhythm of the band filled the air, the music weaving seamlessly with the hum of chatter and bursts of laughter. The dance floor was now alive with swaying couples, their movements reflecting the evening's growing energy. The atmosphere had transformed during our brief absence, brimming with a sense of uninhibited joy and celebration.

"Blakey!" A woman's voice rang out as we approached. It was Charlotte, her tone brimming with exuberance, and she was leaning halfway out of the doorway, a champagne flute dangling delicately from her fingers. As we reached the entrance, she draped herself over Blake, throwing her arms around him and planting a playful kiss on his cheek. "We must have a dance; I've been searching high and low for you," she purred, her words laced with a teasing undertone.

Her gaze slid to me, sharp and assessing, lingering on Blake's slightly dishevelled appearance and his jacket on my shoulders. Her smile widened, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. It had an edge to it, the kind that concealed more than it revealed, as though she were piecing together a puzzle that didn't quite fit. I felt her curiosity settle over me like a weight, her eyes flicking to the jacket as if it carried a story she was determined to unravel.

"Blakey, you've been terribly elusive tonight," Charlotte added, her tone dripping with playful reproach. "And who better to keep you company than our new guest?"

Her words hung in the air, cutting through the warmth I'd felt only moments earlier. I forced a smile, unsure of what to say. Blake, for his part, simply returned her grin, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in his expression.

Throughout the evening, I continued to steal glances at Blake, bewildered by the feelings that stirred. How could I feel so tethered to someone I'd only met this morning, in a time that wasn't even mine? It was ridiculous, and yet, there it was—this lingering warmth, his touch seared into my memory. His charisma and charm, combined with the memory of our dance, left me feeling adrift, caught between the pull of him and the reality of my situation.

The need to find a way back to my own time echoed in the back of my mind like a persistent drumbeat, reminding me of what truly mattered. And yet, the thought of leaving—of leaving this moment—made it harder to focus.

The rest of the evening passed in a whirlwind of conversations, introductions, and champagne toasts. Gwen made several attempts to lure me onto the dance floor, her enthusiasm infectious, but I found myself content to sip champagne at my seat, engaging in polite conversations with the guests. It felt as though I were attending a family wedding, surrounded by people I barely knew. Blake, at times, would check on me, ensuring I was comfortable and at ease. His attentiveness didn't go unnoticed, not by me, and certainly not by Charlotte, whose gaze seemed to find us wherever we were

I collected Blake's suit jacket from the back of my chair and made my way to the bar, where Gwen stood speaking to Ben, the boy I had met earlier. She had her arm draped around his shoulder, her head thrown back in a carefree laugh. I tapped her on the shoulder.

"I'm going to go up to bed," I said, offering a faint smile. A frown tugged at her lips.

"Already?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disappointment. Her energy was infectious, but I couldn't summon the same enthusiasm.

I smiled sheepishly and glanced around the room, scanning for Blake. He was nowhere to be seen, the crowd swirling like a kaleidoscope of glittering gowns and dark suits. "Would you let Blake know I've gone to bed? I can't seem to find him."

"Of course. Or you could just stay a bit longer... have another drink?" Gwen's eyes sparkled with mischief, her glass catching the light as she raised it slightly.

"Thank you, but it's been a long day," I said, my voice soft but firm.

"Okay then," she relented with a smile, draining her champagne in one swift motion. She leaned in for a quick hug, her perfume—something floral with a hint of spice—lingering as she stepped back.

I nodded my thanks and turned, weaving through the maze of guests toward the ballroom doors. The music swelled behind me, a lively tune that seemed to mock my fatigue. As I reached the base of the stairs, a familiar voice called out.

"Disappearing again?" Blake's voice, low and slightly hoarse, came from behind me. I felt his fingers lightly brush against my wrist, halting my step.

I turned to find him standing a few feet away, his bow tie undone and hanging loosely around his neck. His hair, once so meticulously neat, was slightly mussed, and a faint smudge of red lipstick marred his cheek. My gaze lingered there for a moment before flicking away.

"I'm going to head up to bed," I said, exhaustion softening my words. "It's been a whirlwind of a day, and I'm absolutely drained."

Blake straightened, his gaze holding mine for a beat longer than necessary. "Are you sure? I got held up dancing with Mrs. Smith, she owns a corner shop in town. That was the third song I had danced with her for."

I couldn't help but smile at the thought. "I bet you made her year," I replied, my voice tinged with genuine amusement. "Oh, here is your jacket," I added, suddenly remembering the suit jacket still draped over my arm.

He stepped closer, his hand brushing mine as he took the jacket, though he didn't slip it on. Instead, he held it lightly, the fabric draping over his fingers. 

"Actually, why don't you keep it for now? It's drafty in this old house; you might want it on your way up," he said, his voice soft and warm. The faintest trace of a smile tugged at his lips, his tone carrying a quiet kindness that made the gesture feel intimate rather than dismissive.

I hesitated, glancing down at the jacket in my hands, then back up at him. "Thank you," I murmured.

"Good night," Blake said quietly, his gaze lingering on me as I turned to climb the stairs. The warmth of his voice stayed with me as I ascended, the faint buzz of the party fading behind me. I couldn't shake the feeling that something unspoken hung in the air between us, heavy and charged.

Inside my room, I carefully placed the jacket on the back of an elegant armchair, smoothing the fabric with my hands. It still carried the faint, heady scent of his cologne—a mix of musk and citrus—that clung to the air even as I moved away. For a moment, I simply stood there, staring at the jacket, my thoughts racing.

The evening's events played back in my mind, the dance, the warmth of his hand on mine, and now this small, thoughtful gesture. Despite my exhaustion, I felt a strange restlessness settle over me. I slipped off my heels, the cool wood of the floor soothing against my sore feet, and moved to the dresser to begin removing my makeup. The ritual was comforting, each stroke of cold cream grounding me as I worked to clear the layers of the evening.

The bed, enveloped in luxurious linens, called to me like a sanctuary. As I sank into its embrace, the faint hum of the party below was just audible through the floorboards. My thoughts drifted back to Blake—his dishevelled charm, the gentle teasing in his voice, and the flicker of something deeper in his eyes. My chest tightened with a feeling I couldn't quite name, a mix of longing and uncertainty that left me unsettled.

With a deep sigh, I pulled the covers around me and closed my eyes, the memory of his voice and touch still lingering. Sleep came slowly, the night's events weaving themselves into my dreams, a tangled tapestry of emotions I couldn't yet untangle.