Mustering up the courage to ask Erik out was a whole other story than just accepting she was badly crushing on the man.
Every time she thought she had talked herself into being brave enough she backed out at the last minute.
No time ever seemed to be the right time.
She didn't have the heart or guts to interrupt Halldór and him when he came to pick them up, but it was really the only time she had time to talk to him for longer than a few seconds.
Cécile sighed as she braided her hair in front of the large dance hall mirror.
'Maybe it wasn't mean to be?' she thought to herself.
Her self pitying was interrupted by a familiar set of footsteps walking down the hallway, she knew who they belonged to long before they entered the dance hall.
"Hi!" Halldór said brightly as he skipped inside, Erik close behind as he offered her a smile and a little wave.
"You're early," Cécile remarked, a little surprised as Erik was usually dead on time these days.
"Ah yes, sorry if it's a problem I just have a favour to ask," Erik scratched the back of his head and looked a little embarrassed.
"Oh," Cécile was certain the butterflies in her stomach had all turned to stone. "What is it?"
"Could you maybe keep Halldór here for a little while linger after the lesson?" Erik asked softly, glancing over at Halldór who was busy dancing to himself in front of the mirror. "I have a meeting with a publisher and I doubt I'll be finished in time to pick him up at five."
"Ah I see..." Cécile tapped her index finger against her chin and smiled softly, "I think I can manage that," she giggled, the butterflies back to full force.
"Thank you so much," Erik looked visibly relieved and less tense. "I'll try to get away as soon as possible, but sometimes I can't leave as early as I want to," he sighed.
"No, no, I understand," she smiled, "Don't worry, he can join in or sit and watch the older group's lesson. One little boy won't be a problem at all," Cécile reassured him.
"Thank you," Erik sighed in relief, "I'll make it up to you."
"I'm sure you will," Cécile suppressed a grin, mustering a warm smile in its place.
"Halldór," Erik turned to his son, "You behave until I come back, okay?"
Halldór turned and nodded eagerly at his father.
"Good man," Erik smiled and waved goodbye.
Cécile watched him leave, pondering what she would do with Halldór once the class was over.
He was well-behaved, so she wasn't worried he'd run off, but she still worried he'd object to being left for longer than usual.
"Excited for today then?" she asked him, crouching down to get a little closer to his eye level.
Halldór nodded.
"Maybe you can help plan the Christmas dance afterwards too?"
More eager nodding from Halldór, which made Cécile smile.
"Good, someone has to tell me how to make trolls look real,"
"We're gonna have trolls?" Halldór asked, eyes wide but voice low.
"Yes. I figured your group could do a little dance from your favourite show,"
"Troll king," Halldór whispered.
"Yes, everyone loves the music, so I'm sure a few tails on your outfits will be welcomed,"
"Yes," Halldór nodded, "Tails and unruly hair and dirt everywhere!" he threw his hands up in the air.
"Is that what trolls look like?" Cécile smiled, amused by how easily Halldór spoke about fantasy creatures.
"Yes. Dad says I look like a troll child every time I've been playing in the garden or when I've had a nap," he replied and nodded as if those things were scientific facts.
"I see," Cécile giggled. "Your father must be a troll expert,"
"He is, he's fought them many times!" Halldór smiled proudly.
"Ahhh, of course," she smiled. A wild imagination in someone so young was a given, but Cécile was certain Erik was fuelling Halldór's fantasies more so than most parents.
"They're sneaky, even if they're big. So you have to be careful when it's dark," Halldór explained.
"I will keep that in mind," she nodded in return. "You're clearly the expert," she added with a smile.
"No. Dad is. But I'm second in command!" Halldór bounced up and down as he spoke. It never failed to impress her just how much energy small children had.
"Of course," Cécile nodded wisely, as if such a statement was common knowledge. Feed their imagination, that was what she believed.
However, when Halldór proceed to ramble on about how one properly caught trolls, Cécile couldn't help but maybe think Erik should perhaps tone down the fantasy stories by a fraction.
He only stopped talking when the other children arrived, but Cécile caught him whispering to some of the other children during practise about his newest adventure with creatures no one else ever saw.
His imagination was at least useful to get everyone excited for the upcoming parental performance.
If Halldór's tall tales of trolls and faeries didn't get the others excited for The Hall of the Mountain king then nothing would.
Much to her surprise, the next class of older children also got dragged into his imaginary world of troll hunting.
Veronique, an 11 year old girl who Cécile was certain would go incredibly far in ballet (and not just because they were related), had Halldór chatting about his adventures as a brave warrior within a minute of meeting him.
Cécile had to stifle a giggle as Veronique let Halldór braid her long dark hair. It didn't turn out very nice, but she praised him none the less.
With six years between them Cécile would have pegged them to be as different as night and day – yet Veronique seemed to be more than content to keep Halldór occupied while she continued helping the others with their practise.
"I'm sorry you got stuck with babysitting him," Cécile apologised to her once the lesson was over.
"Oh no. Don't be. He's so cute and I never get the chance to be a big sister to anyone!" Veronique laughed and ruffled Halldór's pale hair.
"Veronique is a princess," Halldór whispered.
"What?" Veronique gave him a stern glare, "Why aren't I queen?"
"Cécile is queen," Halldór whispered back and pointed to the older woman.
"Oh, Fair enough," Veronique laughed, "I can accept that."
"Who's king then?" Cécile inquired with a light smile, uncertain why Halldór had assigned royal titled to them but too curious to let it just slide by her.
"Dad of course," Halldór said and tried to look stern.
"Oohh," Veronique whispered, a wide grin spread across her face as her gaze moved from Halldór to Cécile.
Cécile had seen that grin before.
Veronique's father (and her brother Francis) possessed that very same smile. Of course Veronique had inherited it.
"That means Cécile and your dad are married," Veronique whispered slyly to Halldór, although Cécile heard every word, her cheeks flaring a bright pink at the words.
"Hmmm," Halldór scrunched up his face into a frown, "That's not bad is it?" he asked them both, his mind failing to see why this was an issue at all.
"Not at all," Veronique singsonged happily.
Halldór giggled happily, unaware of Cécile's burning cheeks or Veronique's knowing smirk.
"I assume Halldór has told you all about his groups dance recital?" Cécile cleared her throat and hoped to diverge both the children's attention.
"Oh yes. The Hall of the Troll king?" Veronique's eyes lit up.
"Mountain King," Cécile corrected, "You were close enough."
"Ah yes," Veronique nodded, "He told me. I'm so excited for it. I'd love to dance as a scary troll lady or something,"
"Oh..." Cécile paused, "I thought your group was doing something from Swan lake..."
"Psht," Veronique snorted, "That's old and overdone. I think we should all do something with trolls. It sounds great,"
"Okay..." Cécile sighed, she really had brought it upon herself.
"I suppose we could do a Per Gynt themed performance for all the groups," a little adaptation would be necessary to make it work for the youngest members, but none the less; it could work.
All of this just because she tried impressing one single father.
"Yay!" Veronique threw her arms up in the air, and Halldór followed suit, although he hadn't quite caught on to what they where cheering for yet.
"We're going to need new costumes for everyone then," Cécile mumbled to herself.
"Dad can probably help," Veronique interrupted.
"Probably," Cécile replied, "But I'll need more than him. Francis is good at making clothes, but designing a whole array of costumes for ballet dancers? No. I'm not sure I can trust him with that task as well," as much as she loved her brother and his sense of fashion – Cécile didn't want to lump designing and making almost 50 costumes onto her brother. That didn't seem fair.
"We can all help maybe?" Veronique suggested.
"I might make you all find pieces of old clothing at home we can use," Cécile thought out loud, trying to figure out how many costumes could be made in one day by herself and Francis.
"I'm sure if everyone brings in some old clothes it will be easy!"
"I can tell you're my brother's daughter," Cécile laughed softly. It was always nice to have someone so chirpy and cheerful on her side.
"I'll help too!" Halldór exclaimed, making both Veronique and Cécile giggle.
"Of course you will," Cécile said with a smile, "Someone has to help us make sure we get the costumes accurate, right?"
Halldór's eyes went wide before he nodded so eagerly and excitedly that Cécile was certain he was making himself dizzy.
"Now we just have to make sure your father helps too," Cécile laughed.
"Make me help with what?" Erik's voice sounded from the doorway, and Cécile whirled around in surprise. Embarrassed that he had overheard her mention him.
"Oh hello Mr Troll Hunter!" Veronique skipped over to him and introduced herself.
"It's actually Sorensen, but hello to you too," Erik smiled and shook her hand. "I assume you've been speaking to my son..."
"Yes. We have," Veronique smiled warmly as Halldór ran over and clung tightly to his father's leg.
"That's very good of you," Erik praised and Veronique beamed with pride.
"Veronique is my niece," Cécile explained, "And I have a feeling she is making her father wait in the car a little longer than usual today..." she tapped her foot against the floor.
"But he's so cute I can't leave," Veronique whined and pointed to Halldór.
"Yes, he is," Cécile sighed, "But I can hear my phone buzzing and I bet you its your father wondering why you're not outside,"
"Fiiiiine," Veronique frowned, bending down to give Halldór a goodbye hug.
To Erik's great surprise Halldór happily complied.
He watched as Veronique skipped out the room.
Taken aback at how someone like that had won his sons affection. He seldom liked such outgoing people that quickly.
"Well that was an eye-opener," Erik mumbled and diverted his attention back to his son who once more was now firmly clinging to his leg.
"Did you make a new friend little man?"
"Yes," Halldór nodded.
"Well she seems like a very nice lady,"
"She is. She's a princess,"
"Oh really?" Erik smiled.
"Yes. Cécile is queen,"
"Who's king?" Erik asked, and Cécile felt her cheeks flare up once more. She knew what was coming.
"You," Halldór laughed happily.
Erik's face took on a colour that matched Cécile's, although he tried very hard to hide it by tilting his head and hiding his face with his blonde hair.
"Oh, of course she is," he managed to stammer forward as he bent down to pick his son up.
"Thank you for looking after him," he said in earnest once he had composed himself.
"It was no bother. Veronique did most of the work for me," Cécile laughed a little nervously, trying to gather up the courage to ask him to dinner.
With Halldór in his arms they both towered over her, but she couldn't let it deter her.
Not now.
It was such a golden opportunity.
"Still, thank you," Erik smiled, "If there's anything I can do to make it up to you then please tell me."
"Well..." Cécile smiled, taking a deep breath, "I might have one favour to ask of you in turn,"
"Of course," Erik nodded.
"Well, make it two," Cécile added thoughtfully.
"I'm all ears..."
"I'm going to need some help designing and making costumes for the upcoming parent dance recital. Would you be able to lend a hand?"
"Of course. I'm not that bad with thread and needle," Erik laughed, "I'd be happy to help."
"Fantastic, that's just what I needed to hear," Cécile smiled brightly.
"The second is more of a personal request,"
"Uh.. okay?" Erik looked a little sceptical.
"I'd like to request that you join me for dinner, tomorrow if possible. Halldór is of course also invited," Cécile smiled, her body tense as she waited for a reply.
Erik was shocked.
Disbelief and surprise was plainly written on his face, and he didn't snap out of it until Halldór gently tugged at his hair.
"I, uh. Well..." he stammered, flustered and unable to form a coherent sentence, "Yes," he finally managed to say, "Certainly. That would be nice," he added a little more composed and coherent.
"Wonderful!" relief washed over Cécile at his reply. "Why don't we meet outside the Cinema tomorrow and we'll walk together to the restaurant?"
"Uh, yes. Sure. How nicely should I, I mean, we dress?"
"Suits and ties if you have," Cécile winked, "I know some people you see," she giggled.
"That doesn't sound ominous at all..." Erik glanced worriedly at Halldór, "I think she's up to something," he whispered to his son, although loud enough for Cécile to still hear.
"But she's not an evil queen," Halldór whispered back.
"No. True. Shall we trust her?"
"Yes," Halldór concluded after contemplating. "If there's ice cream," he added.
"Ice cream and cakes," Cécile laughed. "Plenty of it even," she smiled at them both.
"Ah well then we're helpless," Erik sighed dramatically, "We will have to comply,"
"Ice cream!" Halldór shouted excitedly.
"Yes yes," Erik tried to calm him.
"Meet you there at six?" Cécile suggested.
"Sure," Erik nodded, still trying to calm Halldór down. The kid now rambling on about how much ice cream he could eat.
"Wonderful," Cécile's spirit soared, the butterflies in her stomach alive and well.
"You behave Halldór," she smiled coyly, "Only well behaved troll hunters get ice cream," she warned, and to her surprise and Erik's delight Halldór went silent.
They walked out together, Erik waiting for her to lock the doors up before he bid her farewell.
She waved at them as they drove away. Relieved and happy it had actually worked.
"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," she hummed to herself as he headed home.
She now had a little less than 24 hours to book a table, arrange and decide on her outfit and look nice for their 'date'.
Cécile had an extra spring in her step as she walked.
Maybe it was the wind or the butterflies – either way she was certain she was floating.
She hadn't been this excited for a date since her teens, and an added bonus this time was that any awkward silence would surely be filled with Halldór's stories.
This couldn't be any better, she thought to herself.
It was simply picture perfect.