Bare feet dashed across the hardwood floor of the living room, the woman trying to find her shoes to match her dress. In the distance the sun began to set, taking away the light that _ needed to find her shoes. As you continued to look for these shoes, the clouds covered the sun, only allowing bits of the bright star's light to illuminate small parts in the room.
You had already began to panic just a bit, but you wouldn't let it ruin your special night. It had taken you around seven months just to get this date with the dashing Frenchman, and you didn't want to be late for it, let alone allow it to be ruined because you couldn't find the specific black shoes. Groaning from desperation and annoyance of the situation, you glance at your clock. You literally had five minutes to get to the cafe that was halfway across town.
You let out another groan and eventually give up your search for the shoes. You pick up the shoes nearest to you and slipped them on, mumbling to yourself about how you needed to clean up your pigsty of an apartment. Brushing your (h/c) behind your ear, you dash to your door, grabbing your purse off of your coffee table as you run.
As you hurried out the door, purse in hand, you run directly into your date.
Blue eyes blinking in surprise, all Francis could do was grip a hold of your shoulders to steady you after you had run into him. A soft, melodic laugh left his lips as he shook his head."Eager, are we?" He asked, brushing hair out of your face. "I hope I'm not too early." If he hadn't been the first one to say something, you were sure that you'd probably be fuming from embarrassment right now.
"You're not," you assure, a soft, embarrassed smile tugging at your lips. "But I thought I was going to meet you at the cafe-?"
"_," Francis let out, chuckling and shaking his head. You pouted lightly as you listened to him go on. "I know you all too well to know that you'd meet me there on time. Besides, it's more chivalrous to meet the belle femme at her door." Finally letting go of your shoulders, you took the chance to step back. A light crunch was heard under your step, making you look down.
An exasperated sigh left the Frenchman's mouth as he bent down, picking up the bouquet of red roses that you had happened to step on. Your eyes widen."I'm sorry!" you sputter, a painfully sad look on your face. What a good way to start off a date, huh? You expected him to be angry with you- red roses as beautiful as those had to have come at a price.
But instead of how you thought he would react, Francis smiled. And it wasn't one of those sad, I-spent-twenty-dollars-on-that-and-you-broke-it smile, but a genuine smile that warmed your heart. "Don't fret, mon amour, these roses were no where near as beautiful as you look tonight." At this you looked away, the apple of your cheeks heating up. "Such a smooth talker you are, Francis."
"Smooth talker? Maybe. But I'm also an honest man who still wants to have a date with the beautiful girl in front of him."
1. belle femme: beautiful woman.
2. mon amour: my love