“May I have this dance, Gracie?” Miles bows before me and offers his hand. If he was wearing his cravat I would’ve thought we were back at Rockwell. We walk out on the dance floor and he pulls me in close.
“Miles, the dancing here is different. It’s not choreographed like at Rockwell.” Making a fool of himself in front of me is all right, in fact I enjoy it too much. But being embarrassed in front of a group of people he doesn’t know is another thing.
“It is not so hard. We are only stepping back and forth,” he says. “Also, I asked your mother to teach me. Although you enjoy seeing me embarrassed, I was not prepared to humble myself in front of others.”
“It’s not that I love seeing you get embarrassed as much as I love seeing that you aren’t perfect.”
“Hold your tongue, Gracie. My ego would be mortified to hear you say such things.”
janessaburt.com 