can we maybe start over?
december 25 - work holiday party
1D Fanfic/Salute Extra
Louis/Eleanor
*
December 14, 2011
She didn't know why she was here. She was definitely not in a holiday spirit and the decorations hung around the main lobby of H branch (personnel — a department headed by a real witch of a woman and full of sex-crazed junior agents who would not stop making passes at her) were making her nauseous. The only people who were talking to her were the male agents who thought they could score with a lonely girl on Christmas Eve. She knew though that there were plenty more talking about her because of her reputation around this god forsaken place. A reputation she did not deserve and that made her so angry she could barely contain it. And she was known for being calm and in control.
Eleanor was pretty sure she was going to kill Liam Payne for making her come to the party. She would have been perfectly fine to stay at home, alone with a bottle of cheap red wine and Holiday on repeat. Nothing could cure a bitter heart like Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn. He'd managed to guilt her into it somehow. Because she was working as a liaison to MI6 with the JIC, and because she'd formed One Direction just under a year ago, she was spending a lot more time at MI6 so someone had put her name into the Secret Santa draw. She'd gotten a spa gift certificate for the woman she'd drawn and had been hoping to just give it to Liam and Harry to deliver. That certainly hadn't happened.
So here she was, standing alone by the buffet table, trying her very best to not eat her feelings as she watched people she barely knew mingling. Liam was dancing with some girl he'd just met that he fancied himself in love with and Harry was nowhere to be found. Probably off making some mischief of his own.
"Eleanor, right?"
She turned slightly to see the newest contender for her attention. Tall, broad shoulder, classically handsome. She hated him already. "Can I help you?"
"I just wanted to come and ask for a dance."
"No."
The man seemed startled by her abrupt refusal. "What do you mean, no?"
"Oh sorry," Eleanor said with a feigned giggle, brushing his arm in a gesture of flirting that made her want to throw up. The agent ate it up, a smug smirk crossing his face as he puffed his chest up. "I meant to say no fucking way."
The agent choked on his breath a bit and then his face hardened, a sneer curling over his lips. He gripped Eleanor's forearm tightly, yanking her into him. She stumbled, falling against him and was trapped there before she could manage to slip away. Up close, he was much taller and much broader than she had first appreciated. She thought, maybe, she'd made an impulsive judgement brushing him off so callously. She'd meant every word but she should have considered the consequences.
"You can't speak to me like that," he hissed at her.
"I can speak to you however I like," Eleanor snapped back as she tried to pull her arm free from his bruising grasp. "Let me go. Now."
The agent tugged once more and she was forced back toward him, cowering under his dominating stare. She tried to look fierce, to remind him that she was his superior and he better watch it but she hardly thought she was convincing when he had a foot on her and was towering over her. "I thought I'd do you a favour, baby girl. Give the frigid ice princess a good time, fuck some fun back into her. But you're not even worth it. Manning was right to drop a wet blanket like you."
Eleanor tried not to show on her face how deeply those words cut because she didn't want to give this wanker the satisfaction. It hurt though, more than she thought it would. Hearing his name — especially tonight on the one year anniversary of when they first met, of when she first thought she'd fallen in love at the sight of him — was like a knife to the chest. Thankfully, the agent released her and she was able to turn away before he could see the heartache on her face. "Happy Christmas, bitch," he sneered before storming off.
She turned to face the table, staring down at the stupid dancing reindeer on the tablecloth. It was taking everything in her not to start crying or, worse, start throwing things. She was Eleanor Calder, member of the Joint Intelligence Committee, liaison to the Secret Intelligence Service. She was running a black ops duo with two of the best agents in the business right now. She had the head of MI6 on speed dial. She couldn't afford to have a temper tantrum, not here. Despite how much she wanted to release all of this darkness and anger inside of her, this wasn't the place or the time.
"Staring at it isn't going to make it any less ugly." Eleanor looked back over her shoulder at the voice that had interrupted her, narrowing her eyes at the man standing there. "The tablecloth," he rushed to see when he saw the displeasure on her face. "I meant the tablecloth."
"Is there something you wanted?" Eleanor snapped back at him as she surreptitiously wiped at her wet eyes, hoping the guy hadn't noticed that she was on the verge of crying. She sniffled subtly and then turned to face him properly.
She was surprised by what she found. He wasn't much taller than her and was sort of slim in his build, unlike the numerous other agents that had dared to approach her that night. His hair was sort of a mess and he could have shaved for the evening, but his eyes were bright and so was his smile. Something shifted in Eleanor just the tiniest bit. The tension ebbed from her shoulders. She managed to take a full breath. Everything just felt easier and she didn't know how or why but it felt really good.
"Saw you talking to Westley," he said as he frowned in the direction of a group of senior agents standing in the corner. The man who had just accosted her was among them and they all seemed to be looking in their direction, snickering about something or other. Eleanor tried not to care, tried not to let it bother her, but she was only human. "I thought you could use a little cheering up after that experience."
Eleanor almost fell for it... almost. But she'd learned to be more careful than that since Aiden and she wasn't taking any chances. "Nice line but I'd prefer to be alone."
"It wasn't a line," the man said, his eyes shifting off to the side nervously. He seemed a bit unsettled by her behaviour which, granted, wasn't completely off base. She was acting like a lunatic. She just wanted to be by herself right now. "I, uh, I just wanted to see if you were alright."
"So you could make your move?"
"No," the man said hurriedly, shaking his head. "No, not at all. I didn't — I wasn't —"
"Then what did you want?" Eleanor asked curtly. She stuck her hands on her hips for emphasis, staring the man down. She was trying to be tough and stern, trying to show this guy that she wasn't someone to be messed with. She hoped he couldn't see the way her hands shook where they were resting on her sides.
The man gave her a gentle smile, one filled with sadness and empathy. She wanted to look away from those vibrant blue eyes because it felt like he could see right through her but she couldn't tear her eyes off him. He just had this sort of magnetism to him that she couldn't explain.
"I just wanted to give you this." He held out a box wrapped in beautiful gold paper and tied with a big red ribbon. "I'm your Secret Santa."
"Do you not understand the concept of secret Santa? You're not supposed to tell me it was from you."
He winced a bit at her harsh tone and she felt guilty almost immediately which she didn't understand because she didn't even know this man's name so what reason would she have for feeling guilty.
"I've been trying to get up the nerve to talk to you for nearly a year," he admitted sheepishly, giving her a closed-lip grin that felt very forced. "I see you nearly every time you come into work and I've always thought you were quite pretty and you seemed very nice. It felt like fate or something when I got your name for Secret Santa." Eleanor felt a tight crunch in her chest. If she'd thought she felt guilty before, it was nothing compared to the shame she was feeling now. He had only wanted to be nice and she'd treated him like shit. "Anyway, I thought I would come and give it to you in person, introduce myself or something. But it's not a big deal. You obviously want to be alone."
He said it in a way that tugged at her heart and made her want to cry. For a moment there, he sounded just as lonely as she was. A kindred spirit. She wanted to tell him that she was wrong and she was sorry but she couldn't form the words. She could only watch, horrified, as the man put the gift gently on the table beside her and then clasped his hands together awkwardly. "Well, Happy Christmas Eleanor."
He gave her one last lingering look and then turned away, quickly disappearing into the crowd.
She was stuck there, stymied by how good it had felt to hear her name rolling off his tongue. She was so used to being called Calder by everyone here and at the JIC that she'd almost forgotten what it sounded like — aside from Harry's complaining and Liam's ceaseless attempts at giving her a nickname. She felt a strange flutter in her stomach and realized it was butterflies. She didn't think she'd ever felt butterflies before, at least not for a man she'd just met and didn't even know the name of yet.
Her good mood was ruined by the laughter coming from the senior agents across the room. When she tilted her gaze that direction, one of them — one of the wankers who had tried to hit on her — began making lewd blow job gestures. Before she could give him the satisfaction of crying, she snatched up the gift and headed in the opposite direction.
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She was sitting on a closed toilet seat in the ladies room, sniffling pathetically into a wad of toilet paper, by the time Harry found her. He stormed into the ladies room, apologizing charmingly to the women he had offended. That was Harry for you, Mr. Suave. If only they knew how much of a mess he could be — an awful flirt, a tad overprotective, sharpest wit that she knew and an expert at thinking on the spot. Plus he was absolutely gorgeous. But totally not her type. She was lucky, though, to call him one of her best friends.
A best friend that didn't know the definition of boundaries.
"I know you're in here," he called out, his voice echoing in the bathroom. "If you don't tell me which stall, I'll check all of them and get myself into a lot of trouble."
"I'm in here, you idiot," she said softly. Within seconds, the lock was twisting in the door and then it swung open. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?"
"Have you been crying?"
"Christ, Harry, you can't just barge into my toilet stall. I could have been having a wee."
"Do I need to threaten anyone?" Harry said sternly, leaning forward to study her face carefully and frowning at the remnants of tears on her cheeks. "What happened? You're not crying about Aiden again, are you?"
It felt like a punch to the stomach, hearing Harry say his name so casually. She felt like she couldn't breathe. "It's not about Aiden."
"So it is about Aiden," Harry said as he slid down the back of the door, crouching in front of her. He placed his hands gently on her knees and she glanced up from the floor, meeting his worried gaze. She pressed her lips shut, quirking them off to the side. It was the only thing that stopped her from crying again. "El, it's been a year. Can't you put it behind you for one night?"
"We met at a Christmas party," she told Harry quietly. "One year from today actually." Harry was surprised and rightly so. She'd met him nearly a month after the whole fiasco and he only heard remnants of what had happened. "I don't think I've ever told you the whole story, have I?"
"You don't have to."
Eleanor gave Harry a sad smile and then placed one of her hands on top of his resting on her knee. Harry was watching concerned, his eyes so earnest and sympathetic. "It was the Christmas party for the JIC and Aiden was there, representing the Cabinet. I thought he was charming and handsome so I let him dance with me the whole night and then take me home. We spent nearly a week together, barely getting out of bed. I think that I was in love with him right from the first day. I was so stupid."
"El —"
"Imagine my surprise when he kicks me out of the house the morning of New Year's Day because his wife was expected home from seeing her family on the continent." Eleanor laughed bitterly to cover up the new round of tears that had sprung up in her eyes. "I was humiliated. And to have to show my face at work afterward, when everyone knew — they knew I'd been hanging off of him all night and they knew he was married. I was the fool. And in their eyes, I was a slut too."
She sobbed into her toilet paper, letting Harry engulf her in possibly the tightest hug she'd ever received. She tucked her face against his shoulder and just let out all the bitterness and resentment she'd been holding in all year. Every comment, every whisper, every sideways glance that she'd bottled up inside, she was releasing. It had been a long time coming and, while it hurt, it also felt so damn good.
"I'm an unholy mess of a girl," she sniffled as she pulled back, wiping away at her eyes. "I don't even know who I am anymore."
"Come on, El. That's not true."
"Brad Westley called me an ice princess," she told Harry with a grimace. "He said he wanted to fuck some fun into me."
"I'll kill him," Harry bit out, a fire lighting in his eyes. "I'll kill him with my bare hands."
"It's not him," she said as she shook her head sadly, "it's me. I used to be nice. I used to be kind and generous and warm. Quiet, but confident. Now I'm a snarky bitch and I scared off the one person in this whole damn building that actually thought I was worth something."
"You didn't scare me off," Harry said with a frown. Eleanor actually smiled at that, chuckling despite the situation. Harry was so sweet.
"Not you, idiot. Him," she added as she nodded toward the wrapped present sitting unopened on the floor.
Harry picked it up, turning it over in his hands. "You haven't opened it yet."
"I should give it back," Eleanor said sadly, blowing out a long breath as she sagged down. "I was bloody awful to him. He deserved better."
Harry fiddled with the ribbon and then opened the little card attached to the front. "Happy Christmas Eleanor," he read aloud, "Have a happy holiday. Louis xx. Is this from Louis Tomlinson?"
"I guess," Eleanor said with a shrug. She couldn't be sure because she had no idea who Louis Tomlinson was but she didn't suspect there were too many people named Louis that travelled in both Harry's and Eleanor's work circles.
"He's the one I've been trying to introduce to you for ages," Harry said with a bright smile. "The one that I think should work as my new analyst? He's sort of the star of Q branch and he's absolutely brilliant with computers. I've met him a couple of times and I think we'd all get along well, you and Liam too."
"I don't think he'd want to work with me now that I've treated him the way I just did."
"Nonsense, you're the best boss someone could ask for." That stupid idiot was going to make her cry and he didn't even notice. Or maybe he did. Harry didn't usually miss anything. He was so observant which was what made him so good at his job. If he was doing something there was a good chance he was doing it on purpose. Which meant that Harry was trying to cheer her up. She appreciated the effort but she felt like she might be a lost cause.
"I think what we need to do," he said as he slid his finger under the edge of the paper and began to carefully tear it open, "is open this lovely gift so you can go and thank Louis for it personally. Make a good impression and all that. I'm pretty sure he's half in love with you already."
"What?" Eleanor asked incredulously.
Harry rolled his eyes as he struggled with the last of the paper and finally managed to get it off. "He asks after you every time I see him because he knows we work together. He's smitten, my dear. You just need to take the final step."
"But — I don't even know him."
"Yet," Harry corrected with a cheeky grin as he finally managed to extract the box from within it's paper prison. He tore the lid off the box and pushed back the tissue paper to reveal Louis's gift. "Well, isn't this lovely?"
Eleanor reached out to finger the silky fabric of the scarf resting within the box. It was deep purple with a rich hue — Eleanor's favourite. There was no way Louis could have known that buying it and yet, he'd somehow chosen exactly the right colour. Feeling it beneath her fingers and looking at the rich colour, she doubted that Louis had stayed within the budget limit of the Secret Santa arrangement. "It's beautiful."
Harry shook his head as if he was just at the edge of his patience with her and he couldn't believe she could be so blind. She didn't blame him. She felt all out of sorts, like up was down and left was right. It was why she didn't protest when Harry dragged her to her feet and pulled her right from the stall. He leaned her against the counter and then wet a towel so he could help her wash off all the makeup that had been running. "Put your hair up," he told her as he brushed the curls away from her face so he could scrub some mascara off her right cheek. "It's an awful mess."
"I pity the girl you end up with if this is how you treat ladies," Eleanor snapped back at him as she pulled a hair elastic from her purse and wrapped it around the quick bun she'd made on top of her head. Harry looked at her reproachfully, holding the towel to her cheek.
"I am wiping makeup off your face right now, El. One day, when I finally find someone worthy of being called my girlfriend, she's going to be the luckiest girl in the world because I'm going to treat her like a queen."
Eleanor wanted to say something snarky back but she couldn't because Harry was absolutely right. He was a little rough around the edges right now but that was because he still had that arrogant air of invincibility to him that he'd developed when he'd started working as a senior agent with her black ops group. With a little experience and a little humility, Harry would be the perfect boyfriend. Well, maybe not perfect because she had a feeling that his tendency toward being overprotective might become a bit smothering. Still, she'd choose him over most of the other men she'd met any day.
Except maybe for Louis who she hadn't been able to get out of her mind. It had been a long time since she'd met someone who was so genuine — it was the only word she could think of that came close to describing that quality of Louis's that set him apart. He seemed very authentic which was extremely rare in their business. He didn't pretend to be anyone else. He'd come up to her and given himself to her full-on, no secrets, no acts or gimmicks. Considering that the last guy she'd picked up at a Christmas party turned out to be a lying cheat, there wasn't anything more important to her than honesty this year.
"Do you think this is real?" she asked Harry once he'd cleaned her up to his satisfaction. "This feeling?"
"You're the only one who can say if a feeling is real," Harry told her with a satisfied little smirk on his face, like she amused him or something.
"I'm just worried," she admitted, looking down at her hands as they wrung together nervously. She chewed on her lip as she tried to figure out her own thoughts. "After last year — I just don't want to jump into anything too quickly, in case its a mistake."
"You don't have to do any jumping, El. It might be easier to start with a simple hello, an introduction." She narrowed her eyes at him but he just brushed it off. "You don't have to marry him tomorrow. All you have to do is talk, have a chat, get to know each other. Trust me, it'll be worth it. Now, let's see what we can do with this."
For someone who had more masculinity in his jutting pinky finger than ten men together, Harry seemed to know how to tie silk scarves. He wrapped the square of fabric expertly and then pulled it around her bare neck, tying it in a gentle knot at her throat. It fell perfectly along the collar of her blazer and offset against the black of her jacket nicely. "How do I look?" she asked Harry nervously once he'd let his hands drop to his side.
He gave her a beaming smile, his cheeks dimpling on each side. "Beautiful."
Eleanor tried to fight off the blush but she couldn't manage it. She still couldn't get used to someone calling her beautiful without an ulterior motive. Her entire life, she'd been the pretty girl. No one expected much from her except to look nice and be nice to match. She'd gotten used to hearing the word beautiful when someone wanted something. And then she'd met Harry, and Liam, who never said anything for any other reason than because they meant it. She was slowly learning that her value lay in things other than her looks and a large part of that had to do with those two men. She loved them dearly, like the brothers she never had.
"We've both got our missions then, should you choose to accept it?" Harry made a Tom Cruise-esque face that made Eleanor laugh a real laugh, a loud high trill that she found irritating but that Liam always said sounded like a chorus of bells (he could be so lame sometimes). "I will hopefully find Liam before he goes home with that Cass girl."
"Oh, don't ruin his fun Harry."
"I don't like her," Harry harrumphed dramatically, prompting Eleanor to roll her eyes. "Something seems off about her."
"Let him be happy Harry. Just because you don't have a girl to take home doesn't mean you need to punish Liam for it."
"He just makes impulsive decisions," Harry said, sounding like a protective papa bear. "I don't want him to rush into things before he's ready."
"And here you are trying to pimp me off to some bloke from Q branch," Eleanor pointed out.
"Yes, but you and Louis are actually perfect for each other. You just don't know it yet."
"Alright, cupid. So what's my mission."
"You've got to find Louis, charm him by being your wonderful self, and then kiss under the mistletoe."
"I plan to do one of those things," she informed him, upfront.
"We'll see," Harry said cheekily with a sly grin. Eleanor wasn't sure why but she had the distinct feeling that he was up to something. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
She suspected it was a bad thing.
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It took her a while to track Louis down in the lobby of H branch because the party seemed to have grown since she had excused herself from it earlier and everyone was a bit rowdier because the drinks were flowing. She got a couple of looks as she passed through crowds of people but instead of sneers and whispers, they were curious glances usually directed at her hair or her face. It wasn't often that she felt brave enough to come into work without makeup or her signature curls. The fact that she was barefaced (which inevitably meant red-faced) and her hair was up in a messy bun was probably what was throwing people off. She tried her best to ignore the looks as she moved through the crowds.
He was standing with a group of people from Q branch, laughing about something or other. She felt herself pausing, wary to interrupt and ruin his night. Because surely, after the way she had treated him, she could only make his night worse. She was stuck in place, trying to decide whether she was going to go up or just run the other direction. She'd accepted her mission from Harry but that was a bunch of bullshit anyways. Who was he to judge her if she ran scared?
The decision was made for her because someone in the group caught sight of her and one by one they all fell silent as they noticed her watching. Finally, Louis caught on and pivoted slightly until his eyes landed on her. They studied her for a moment and then held her gaze for another. Eventually, he turned to say a quick goodbye to his colleagues and then moved toward her. Her brain was still trying to decide whether or not to bolt but her feet seemed keen on staying right where they were.
Louis stopped a foot in front of her, the only thing between them being the glass of wine he was holding. His eyes lingered on the scarf for a moment before meeting her eyes. "You alright love?" he asked with such genuine concern in his eyes that it made Eleanor's chest clench. She swallowed around the lump in her throat as she nodded.
"Yeah. I just... I wanted to say I was sorry. For earlier."
"Rough night?" Louis asked instead of accepting the apology.
"You have no idea." Eleanor shook her head as she chuckled self-deprecatingly. "But that's no excuse. I shouldn't have acted that way, especially when you were so nice. It was a terrible thing to do."
"That's okay," Louis said with a nonchalant shrug. "I probably could have picked a better moment to sneak up on you than after you'd just had to deal with Westley. That would be enough to drive even a saint into a murderous rage."
Eleanor laughed, covering her mouth bashfully when that awful high pitched giggle managed to sneak out. Louis was smiling endearingly and she was surprised that she wasn't as embarrassed as she usually would have been. She liked Louis. He was funny and kind and charming. And he made her feel at ease which was a feeling she barely even recognized anymore.
"Christmas parties have never been really great experiences for me in the past."
"So I've heard," Louis said with a scoff before realizing just what he'd said. His eyes widened as he grimaced apologetically. "Sorry."
"You — you heard. About, um —"
"Yeah," Louis said before she was forced to say his name. "Sorry, love, but everyone in the building has heard."
"Wonderful," Eleanor grumbled. This was it. This was where Louis said it was nice meeting her and then found some excuse to run off. Standing here any longer was going to ruin his reputation. He was being seen with the slut of MI6 and he didn't have any intention to just fuck her. It would ruin him.
"I think most of it is shit," he added when he saw the reluctance on her face. "The gossip in this place is absolutely atrocious. I heard a rumour the other day that R is C's bdsm sex slave." Eleanor's eyes widened because that was a new one, for sure. And she knew C. She shuddered at the mental image that came unbidden at the mention of that. "Anyways," Louis continued with a shrug, "I like to wait until I've actually met someone and spoken to them before I make any first impressions."
"I must have made a great impression before," she mumbled, embarrassed once again at the way she had acted earlier.
"You're doing just fine."
She looked up hopefully, saw the wide smile on Louis's face, and felt a wave of relief flood over her. "Could we maybe start over?"
"I would love that," Louis said, shoving his wine glass onto the tray of a passing waiter before holding out his newly freed hand to her. "Louis Tomlinson. Pleasure to meet you."
"Eleanor Calder," she returned with a giggle as she shook Louis's hand. His touch was gentle and she was surprised when he lifted that hand and place a kiss on her knuckle. She shook her head, baffled by the character that was Louis Tomlinson.
"Would you allow me this dance?" he asked her as the song transitioned into something a little slower and couples began flocking to the dance floor. Eleanor looked warily at the other dancers, flushing red.
"I don't think you want to dance with me," she admitted. "I'm quite terrible."
"I think it'll be worth the risk."
She couldn't say no to that because she was too busy being frightfully overcome. Instead, she allowed Louis to drag her out onto the dance floor and into his arms. He held her comfortably in his hold, one arm around her back at her waist and the other hand clasped in hers. He began to lead, carefully so she could pick up the steps and keep up with him, and eventually they found their rhythm swaying back and forth on the dance floor. Frank Sinatra was crooning the Christmas Waltz and Eleanor just had this overwhelming sense of contentment, unlike anything she'd felt in the last year. Things felt like they were starting to go right for once.
She was so glad.
"You're wearing the scarf," Louis pointed out midway through the song, his voice barely loud enough to carry over the music. She looked up and saw that his eyes were trained at the knot at her throat.
"It's beautiful," she told him, smiling when a tiny little proud grin spread across his own cheeks. "And exactly my style. I don't know how you knew what colour I liked —"
"The first time I saw you," Louis interrupted wistfully, "you were wearing a dress almost that exact colour. I just remember not being able to take my eyes off of you. You just looked so gorgeous, I —" He cut off, his cheeks turning a light pink that endeared Eleanor to him more than anything he'd done that night. "I just thought it would look nice."
"It's perfect," she told him. The song came to an end and their feet stopped moving so the two of them were paused toe to toe, just looking at each other. It was so stupid but Eleanor thought she could look at those eyes all night. They held so much life and vivacity. They were honest eyes. They were beautiful.
"Look who's under the mistletoe," someone cooed as they walked past the two of them in the middle of the dance floor. Both Eleanor and Louis looked up above their heads. Sure enough, there was a bundle of mistletoe tied with red ribbon. They looked at each other at the same time and Eleanor watched as Louis's eyes drifted down to her lips which, with attention on them, felt unbearably dry, forcing her to stick her tongue out to moisten them.
She felt nervous all of a sudden, her heart racing in her chest as a pit of dread settled in her stomach. This felt like too much too soon. She'd already rushed into things once and look how it had turned out — she'd been the laughingstock of MI6 for a year, feeling utterly used and spat on by a man she ignorantly thought she'd fallen in love with, and she'd taken a hit to her self-esteem so hard that she'd been afraid to go on a date for the rest of the year. She didn't want that to happen again. She didn't want to be that girl anymore.
Somehow, she couldn't find the words to say it. She just stood their, wide-eyed, and prayed that Louis somehow read her mind.
"Let's save it," he said with a faint smile, surprising her.
"What?"
"Let's not kiss now," he explained as his eyes sparkled with mischief and excitement. "How about you save it for our first date so I have an excuse to kiss you goodnight?"
"First date," Eleanor echoed, her brain feeling like it had slowed to a stop and that nothing was making sense anymore.
"Next week," Louis suggested. "Dinner and a film. How does that sound?"
She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of her, bright and loud and genuine. Louis seemed a little surprised at first but then he was laughing too. They must have been a sight.
"That," Eleanor said as she leaned against Louis, tucking her head against his shoulder as they began to sway to the next song, "sounds absolutely perfect."