The Ballroom

 Walking into the brightly lit room from the darkness of the night leaves you blinking, first to let your eyes become acclimated, then in wonder as you stare at the enormous dance hall. Grand windows line the two walls, thick red drapes framing each, held open by large gold cords. Pillars between the windows hold a domed ceiling high overhead, large chandeliers hanging down to provide light for all the dancers on the floor. And then you see the dancers! There are hundreds of people, moving and laughing, dancing or sitting or walking along. The whole room is alive with movement. A sliver of fear tickles your spine at the sight of so many people, the white dress you thought was so beautiful now feels too tight, too big, too everything. What are you doing here, you wonder, you should never have accepted the invitation, you don’t belong here among all these beautiful people. You want to leave, to turn and run back out the doors and into the comfort of the dark night. Just as you are about to turn a familiar voice whispers in your ear as you feel a hand press against your hip holding you in place.

“Relax, breathe, smile. They can smell fear you know.”

 The feel of his breath on your skin as he speaks softly into your ear has you heart racing and his hand on your hip feels like a fire that fills your body. You smile, not just from his words, but because he is there, and he is close.

“Much better,” he says as he comes around to face you, your prince charming. Dressed in a tuxedo and bow tie like everyone else, he still looks better somehow. The way his hair shines in the light, the way he stands so straight but still seems so relaxed, and the look in his eyes that makes your knees weak and your heart race.

“Shall we?” He asks as he offers his arm. You take it, and your skin tingles at the touch. The crowd seems to part before you as he guides you through the throng of people to the middle of the dance floor. Then he turns you and, taking your hand in his, he begins dancing. A new song begins, as if they were waiting for him, and the two of you glide along the floor together. It’s like walking on clouds as his sure hands and steady steps lead you through the motions. There are others dancing as well, dozens of couples falling in line with the music playing. But you only have eyes for him, and as you dance along he talks and smiles and laughs, the room spins and the clocks chime. Before you know it hours have passed. He leads you away to the refreshments table and hands you a glass of punch, taking one for him as well.

 He talks some more as you sip your punch and watch him intently. He looks at you as he is about to say something and stops. Looking down at you, a strand of hair framing your face, a flush to your cheeks from the warmth and the dancing, the happiness in your eyes as you stare squarely into his before you turn away, he has never seen anything more beautiful. Taking your cup from your hand and setting it on the table, he presses his hand to your cheek and lifts your face so that you look into his eyes once more. Leaning forward, he moves closer until his mouth is hovering over yours, you can feel his heart beating fast from the pulse in his hand, it matches your own. Throwing caution to the wind, you bring your hand up to his cheek, rise up on your toes and touch your lips to his. Explosions sound and people ooh and aah as you kiss each other softly. You see flashing light and more explosions, and it takes a moment for the thought to get through the blissful haze you’re in that its fireworks. Reluctantly, you pull away and look into his eyes once more. He is smiling, looking more like a school boy than a grown man, but still the most handsome person you’ve ever seen. He takes your hand and pulls you to the windows, where he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you to his side as you both watch as lights flash and the crowd cheers. You lean against him, knowing that this is what fairy tales are for.