Although you had been to many balls before this one was different. You were at the age where you were expected to start courting, and you had not prospective courtships. Your father was happy to find someone for you, but you didn't want to leave your future husband in his hands as he'd just pick someone who gave him a social boost. Instead you agreed to go the Winter's Ball at the Schuyler's and try to find a courter.
You were a close friend with the younger Schuyler sister Peggy, the two of you taking your place in the corner of the room, avoiding the dance floor, not wishing to speak to men in case they deemed you desperate or boring. Waiting there, you and Peggy agreed if someone perfect walked in, you would dance with them but until then you would stand at the edge of the dance floor, looking pretty, hoping a man would wish to be a suitor. That didn't happen. No one came to you. You were beginning to give up hope when a few men walked in together.
Instantly, your heart felt light as you saw him. Peggy noticed your expression change, your goofy grin and hopeful eyes, something you rarely showed.
"Do you like him?" She asked.
You nodded your head, too scared to speak, and certainly too nervous to cross the room to actually meet the man.
He had a childlike smile on his face, happy and hopeful, the face most men in the war had, hoping they'd be the one to make a change. His long hair was pulled into a pony tail, letting his curly brown hair fall down his back against his uniform. He seemed perfect, but you would never have the courage to speak to him.
"Shall I introduce you?" Peggy offered.
You went to say no but Peggy had already grabbed your arm and begun to drag you across the room. As you neared him, she sped up, passing by him and letting go of you, forcing you to bump into him. He jolted, reaching out to grab you, so that you didn't fall; your face red and nervous and legs feeling shaky.
"My apologies, ma'am," he smiled softly, your heart skipping a beat.
"Oh no, the apologies are all mine," you whispered, trying to look at the ground so that you could hide your red cheeks. "I'm sorry sir, I have two left feet."
He laughed at your self-deprecating joke.
"I do doubt that," he laughed. "Now does your beautiful face have a beautiful name to match?"
Your blush had become uncontrollably, as you looked up at him, attempting to make eye contact.
"Y/N, Y/N Y/S/N," you said offering him your hand.
He took your hand, raising it to his mouth so that he could kiss the reverse of it.
"It's a pleasure to meet you ma'am. I am John Laurens," he smiled. "May I have this dance?"
You nodded your head, allowing him to lead you into the crowd and dance. You were not the best at dancing, but neither was he. Both of you stood on each other's feet and made the wrong steps, but neither of you stopped smiling the whole time the music played. Together you retreated from the dance floor, still gleaming.
"I do not wish to be too forward, but I am to leave tomorrow to join the men on the front line, could I have the pleasure of writing you?" He asked with a hopeful smile.
"It'd be my honour."
~*~
Written by Charlotte.
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