Sharp Contrast
1097 Words
I ran to the closet, my eyes roaming around the section for formal to semi formal dresses that I could wear. The Continental is an elite restaurant frequented by some of the wealthiest people around. Even though I had no use for any of the glitz and glamour of the place, I have always dreamed of having their special lamb roast, after one particular day when Ronan had come home, bragging about the VIP card dad had given him to the restaurant, and how his date had been completely stunned, enough to let herself be bend over even in the bathroom floors. Of course, she never heard from him again, but she sure is satisfied.
I shook my head, then reached for a black dress. It was floor length and would hug my figure down to the very edges. I took it in, nodding slowly. It was sparkly and had a slit up to the thigh that was covered in transparent black material. The sleeves were slim, almost nonexistent, and the neckline was a little loose and had an arrangement of pearls around it. It was perfect.
I immediately popped into the bathroom, and even though I hated to leave my dream shower, I equally didn't want to keep Florian waiting.
I got out of the shower, wrapped myself in a robe, and then dried off. I immediately out together accessories that would fit, a simple pear choker and pearl earrings, a black hair band, and a simple bracelet. I found a pair of heels that matched, and I immediately pulled it together, too.
I sat in front of the dresser and combed my hair, then styled it before changing into the dress and heels. The entire look came together soon enough, and when I stood in front of the mirror, a smile lifted my face as I watched my reflection.
It was perfect.
Suddenly, I heard the door c***k open, and I turned, my eyes wide with expectations. It suddenly closed again, however, and despite the fact that I had been sure I saw Florian and his crisp white button-down shirt through the small c***k, he was simply gone now.
I shrugged it off and turned to the mirror again, fixed my hair one more time, checked my accessories, before grabbing the tiny clutch purse I had brought out to fit.
It was quite ironic how this place seemed to be made for... me. Tailored to my needs, like Florian had always expected that I would be here. It was heart fluttering as it was unsettling, and I tried not to think about it as I opened the door and walked out of the room.
I took the stairs slowly, and to my surprise, Florian was downstairs, his phone to his ear, his face turned away from me, his back leaned against the wall. I had been completely sure he was wearing a white shirt earlier, but he was now in an all black ensemble, with a silver watch that looked like it could cost as much as a car as the only accessory he was wearing, apart from the necklace he seemed to always wear.
"I am ready," I said, opening my arms a little as if to show him.
He turned around, then slowly took me in, then gave me one of his small smiles, one of the rare ones that actually reached his eyes.
"What do you think?" I asked when he didn't say anything, then gently ran my fingers through my hair. "Good enough for you?"
He slowly covered the distance, then ran his fingers on the edge of my neck, adjusting the choker and caressing my skin at the same time.
"You will always be good enough for me."
I chuckled. "And we happen to be matching too."
"A coincidence," he said almost immediately, and I broke into a laugh.
"Whatever you say, Florian."
He stepped away and, without a word, took my hand in his and led me outside the door. A limousine was waiting in front of the house, and a man stood in front, holding the door open.
Florian held me tight as we took the short flight of stairs down to the car. I was completely enthralled by the sheer fairytale aspects of the entire date, and I forgot to pay attention to the steps and missed a step.
Luckily, Florian was holding my hand, and I didn't get to the floor, just lightly sprained my ankle.
"Are you okay?" Florian asked, immediately kneeling in front of me.
I straightened, my eyes wide with surprise as I watched him pull the dress up, and his hands immediately checked my knee, then my ankle.
"Does it hurt?"
I swallowed. "Florian."
He looked up, his eyes laced deeply with worry. "Where does it hurt?"
I swallowed. "You... you are on your knees."
His brows furrowed. "What?"
"You are.... you went on your knees without..."
"You could have gotten badly hurt. Who cares where I am?"
I swallowed, tears stinging the back of my eyes as memories flooded my mind. Florian stood up, then leaned again, and picked me up bridal style, his eyes meeting mine.
"Do you still want to go?"
I nodded, unable to trust myself to say much more. He adjusted me in his arms, and I let my head rest on his chest, my eyes still wide with surprise from what had just happened.
It brought back memories of my fifth anniversary date with Damien, and I sprained my ankle badly because I had been rushing to catch up to him on the long flight of stairs.
It had immediately reddened and swelled, and I remembered asking Damien to help me unbuckle the belted heel I had been wearing.
"Maybe you should wait till we go to the car. It would look weird going on my knees here."
I shook my head, then slowly turned to Florian. His eyes were fixed on the path ahead, and they darted towards me for a brief moment before he gently put me in the car.
My eyes closed as I leaned back, pushing the tears away. I wondered why these things came into a sharp contrast now. Why the things I used to love and appreciate now felt so mundane, so lacklustre.
Florian opened the door on the other side and got in, and without a word, leaned to my foot, removed my shoes, then gently pulled my foot till it was resting on his lap.
I watched him, wondering just how much mediocrity I have learned to accept.
- Writer
