"What song are you playing tonight?" I laugh as Harry rests his chin in his hand, waiting for me to pick some music.
"Well, I'm getting some Bruce Springsteen vibes right now," I say and Harry looks confused at the absurdity of my language. "So how about Born To Run, you can't go wrong with that song," I say as I click play, letting the music fill our ears. Harry and I both start to dance and allow both the music and our laughter echo through the cavernous hallways of his mansion.
It's strange, I feel more at home in that little book shop or in this one room with Harry than I have ever felt anywhere else. I look at his awkward, lanky figure that really isn't all that lanky. The man has muscle, I'll give him that. I wonder how he gets so muscular being a butler. Well maybe it is different as a butler to the queen. He dances like nobody is watching, something I heavily admire.
"You're a good dancer," I express to him, out of breath from my own dancing. He grabs my hand and spins me around as I say this.
"Well I feel as though if you never learn, you have nothing to lose."
Before we know it the song is over, but I don't have time to turn it off before the next song plays.
I took my love, I took it down
Climbed a mountain and I turned around
The gentle melody plays and Harry looks deeply into my eyes. My face turns red and I go to turn it off when Harry steps in front of me.
"May I have this dance?" He softly asks me, extending his hand to mine.
"You may," I reply, smiling a nervous smile. I place my hands on his shoulders and he places his on my waist. We don't move our bodies much at first. We just stand there, dodging eye contact. Slowly, we start to sway as we listen to the lyrics.
And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills
'Till the landslide brought me down
As my eyes dart around the room, I catch a glimpse and see that his are not moving. They are fixed on me, I can tell. I stare into his viridescent eyes and watch his pupils dilate. I blink slowly and so does he, though everything seems to be moving in slow motion anyway. A lock of chestnut hair falls upon his face, but he makes no move to remove it, so I do, my fingers tingling as they make contact with his forehead. We are frozen in time, simply staring as Stevie Nicks serenades our ears, our faces closer than ever before.
"'Car, vois-tu, chaque jour je t'aime davantage, aujourd'hui plus qu'hier et bien moins que demain.' Rosemond Gérard." I raise my brow as he speaks these words. These sweet words I can't understand but desperately want to.
"Sir, dinner is ready," says a man from the doorway, who forgot to knock. My head snaps in his direction, and I quickly remove my hands from Harry's shoulders. I can feel that my face is red, so I look at the ground in an attempt to hide it. Harry is doing the same.
"You speak french?" I ask him as we walk down the marble steps.
"Un peu," he says nervously. We eat dinner in silence, our eyes not meeting for even a split second. I finish quickly and go back up to my room after clearing my place because I feel like going to bed early. Before drifting off to sleep I decide to pick up one of the books I brought home earlier that day. Gulliver's Travels.
I begin to read and must admit, I can't put the novel down. After a few hours though, once I sense that the rest of the house is silent and asleep, I decide it is time to go to bed.
-
The week flies by in the blink of an eye. I had finished Gulliver's Travels by the next morning, and Harry made fun of me for reading through breakfast and lunch, but I could see in his eyes that he was proud. Him and I make daily trips to visit Eric and Samuel, which I learned is the name of the cat from the window sill. Eric even explained that I remind him of his daughter, who I 'absolutely have to meet.' In fact, we are starting to spend more time there than we are at Harry's house, but we still make sure to get our nightly dose of music.
