#brelliott

“I suppose that depends on what you’d like me to say, chérie.” The word landed on her skin like silk, and she sighed as she relaxed even more.

“I, uh, ask me to dance?” She said and he stood up then bowed to her while he held his hand out in invitation. Bridget’s eyes widened, “I meant in French! Not- like actually!”

“So you won’t grace me with a dance?”

“There isn’t even music!” Bridget laughed, what was left of her panic had melted into a small pool in her stomach. Elliott looked like a prince in the light of the fire and his joy at playing the part made her feel like she was glittering. “And besides, you didn’t even ask in French!”

“Puis-je avoir cette danse?” His eyebrows quirked up in question and he kept holding his hand out. Bridget blushed deeply, took his hand and let him lead her into a simple waltz. She felt out of sorts, still in her pj set as a storm raged on outside the door, but she couldn’t deny that it was fun.

“You’re really good at dancing,” She laughed as he twirled her about the living room. She could feel her cheeks burn with a blush and looked down to her feet, “Are you sure you aren’t some sort of fairy tale prince come to live by the sea?”

“Now who’s the flatterer,” Elliott chuckled. “No, but along with boarding school and fancy parties did come dance lessons. I’m not the best, but I like dancing with you here. No pressure of a crowd watching us.”