The Ball

The Dance

We fall back into a comfortable silence until I hear a change in the music. I stand up and start twirling, "They've started playing slow songs and you haven't asked me to dance all night. I know I'm not with prince charming but I at least thought you found your manners by now."

He smiles and watches me twirl before joining me. We get into the dancing position but he doesn't move. "Not here." He holds my hand and leads me back into the ballroom.

We find a space in the crowd of gently swaying people and he extends his hand again. "Can I have this dance?" His eyes dance with delight.

I take his hand, trying to not smile so big. "Sure, why not."

He rolls his eyes and we start moving gently.

His chuckle catches my ears and I look up. "You're not going all shy on me are you? What happened to my confident butterfly?"

"I'm not getting shy." I say, but my cheeks say something different. "Just stop looking at me."

"You're literally in my arms, where am I supposed to look?"

"Over my head or something, I don't know." I lay my head on his shoulder, face flaming. "You never told me why you chose to be Dracula."

"Because I'm Mr. Morbid, remember?"

I pull back to look at him.

"Okay, okay. It was either Dracula or prince charming; I'm definitely not the latter." He shrugs, breaking eye contact.

My brows furrow. "Why would you think that?"

"I just do."

I bite my lip, nervous. "I think otherwise."

We stare at each other and our surroundings become a blob of moving mass.

Someone breaks our stare by urgently grabbing his arm "Dude its midnight, we have to go." The man starts running away.

"Wait what?"

His friend turns around, running backwards. "The deadline isn't tomorrow like we thought, it's tonight and we have 30 minutes to get it in, let's go!"

He can't leave now, it's too soon. I squeeze his arms, silently begging him with my eyes to not go. His eyes already told me that he's made a decision.

He holds my face and places a small kiss on my lips. My eyes flutter close but it's over before the lids even touch. My arms are empty and a cool breeze replaces him.

I didn't get his number or social media. I didn't even get his name. My disappointment started creeping in until I remembered something.

His chair. I didn't look at his chair.

I grab the front of my dress and run as fast as my heels can take me, weaving through throngs of people.

I burst through into the opening and see it in bold lettering.

"Caspian." The name falls from my lips.