Oppps, I'm back with yet another new story that I'm almost certain to not finish but Bridgerton season 3 on the horizon has me inspired. I do not own the lovely characters of the Bridgerton universe. I hope you enjoy!

Modern Courtship

Chapter One

Daphne Bridgerton shoved her newly checked out library book into her bag and sighed. The sky had turned dark in her adventure from her university's campus to the public library. As a woman walking alone at night, trepidation gripped her heart. Having grown up with four brothers, she was fully capable of throwing punches with the best of them but with her smaller frame she knew that anything could still happen. She took a steeling breath and pushed the door open, walking along the sidewalk briskly and full of purpose.

"Daphne?" a familiar but most unwelcome voice questioned, uncomfortably close to an alleyway. She clutched her bag tighter and continued on with her head down. "I know you heard me."

"Leave me alone, Nigel," she snapped, picking up her pace as she heard his footsteps start behind her. "I already told you that I am not interested." He chuckled softly and she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on edge. He sounded far too close for her liking.

"And I told you that I wouldn't give up that easily," he responded, grabbing ahold of her upper arm and spinning her around to face him. "You're a little far from campus, aren't you?"

"Let go of me," she bit out between clenched teeth. He grinned down at her, instead tightening his grip on her arm.

"What's the fun in that?" he asked, a sinister smile crossing his face. Daphne narrowed her eyes, and clenched her opposite fist. Nigel leaned closer to her and she swung, catching him underneath his eye and sending him flying onto his back with a grunt.

"You bitch!" he exclaimed from the sidewalk, cradling his eye.

"Now, Berbrooke," another much more welcome voice sounded from behind the duo. "That's no way to speak to a lady."

"Simon!" Daphne breathed, sounding relieved.

"Hello, Daphne," he acknowledged, moving to stand in between her and the man on the ground. "I was across the street and saw him grab you, so I came over to offer some assistance. You had him on the ground before I could intervene."

"Well, you know my brothers," she conceded. "They never would have been comfortable with me staying on campus without means to defend myself." Simon smiled down at her.

"You're quite a distance from said campus," he commented. "Allow me to walk you home. I'd be up all night, worrying that my best friend's sister didn't make it home safely."

"That would be much appreciated," she accepted, graciously. "I didn't plan to be out this late."

"Ah, but plans tend to change, don't they? What kept you?" he asked as they turned away from the grumbling man still laying on the sidewalk.

"The university's library only had one copy of the book I needed for my project and someone else had already withdrawn it," she explained. "I had to get it from the public one instead, then got carried away browsing."

"Typical Daph," Simon chuckled. "Let me guess, this project is due in two short days." Daphne blushed and looked away.

"Tomorrow," she mumbled, sheepishly. He gave her a surprised look.

"Wow, cutting it even closer than normal then," he commented.

"I may have overloaded my coursework this semester," she admitted.

"Would you like some assistance?" he offered.

"I'd hate to keep you up all night. You did graduate several years ago…" she trailed off.

"I don't mind," he assured her. "Unless it's a history project or something of the sort." Daphne laughed and bumped her shoulder against his.

"You know history isn't exactly my forte either," she grinned. "It's a poetry assignment for my literature class." Simon shot her a look of mock surprise.

"I'd say that I'm surprised you put that off so long but I suppose when you're usually the inspiration behind poems, writing them yourself could seem daunting," he teased. Daphne's breath caught in her throat. Did he really just say she inspires poetry?

"Oh, please," she snorted. "Nobody sees me and is moved to write a sonnet."

"I beg to differ," Simon insisted, his eyes suddenly holding an emotion she'd never seen in them. If she didn't know any better, she'd say it was desire. There was no way he would ever be interested in her. Now, Daphne was a fairly confident woman. She knew she was pretty and kind and smart but Simon was basically comparable to a God. Not to mention her eldest brother's best friend and eight years older than her. She blushed and fixed her eyes on her feet as they walked.

"Don't you have work in the morning?" she redirected the subject back to his offer to stay up late and help her.

"I'm the boss, Daph," he assured her. "I can go in whenever I'd like."

"If you're certain," she conceited. "I thought math was more your strong suit."

"It is," he shrugged. "I still did well in my other subjects throughout school though. And sometimes just having someone to bounce ideas off of is helpful."

"That's true," she shook her head in agreement as they approached the front door of her building. She fished her keys out of her bag and led him to her room. She'd never been more grateful to not have a roommate. One of the many perks of being the forth Bridgerton to attend the same university.

"So, what's this assignment?" he asked, settling onto the floor by the foot of her bed. She sat at her desk and swiveled her chair to face him.

"That's part of the problem," she sighed. "The assignment is so open for interpretation, I can't even seem to narrow anything down. I simply have to write a poem about something meaningful to myself. Any style, any topic. What kind of sadist professor assigns that?"

"A literature professor," Simon deadpanned, face serious for only a moment. Then he laughed, breaking into a full smile. Daphne threw a notepad at him.

"Don't laugh at me!" she exclaimed. "I checked out a book on poetry styles to give me some inspiration. That's why I trekked out to the library."

"I don't think the inspiration for poems typically comes from a book," he was still grinning like a fool.

"If you're simply here to tease me and not to actually help, you can leave," she huffed. His smile fell slightly and his eyes took on a more serious look.

"You wound me, Daph," he informed her, dramatically clutching his chest, "However, in all seriousness, have you been on any dates lately? Romance is the most common subject for poetry."

"That's probably why I'm struggling! I haven't been on a date all semester. All of the boys in my year are foolish and all the boys above mine are terrified of my stupid brothers," she complained, pouting slightly. She didn't mention that she wasn't interested in a single one of them anyway. The object of her affections was currently sprawled on her dorm room's floor.

"Well, then," he rose to his feet. "I'm going to take you on an inspiring fake date right now." He held his arm out for her to take and puffed his chest out gallantly. She remained seated and raised an eyebrow at him.

"One, it's nearly midnight so there aren't many 'date' options," she said, dubiously. "And two, how is that supposed to help?"

"There's a twenty-four hour coffee shop on campus. You forget, I went here as well," he reminded her. "And I can be rather charming and intend to play the perfect gentleman. You said you lacked inspiration. Allow me to give it to you." Daphne's stomach flipped and her heart clenched. If he hadn't used the words 'fake date', him standing there like that would've allowed her to write countless sonnets. But knowing that he wasn't actually interested in her was like a knife to the heart. She sighed deeply; there was no rule saying the poem had to be positive.

"What have I to lose?" she asked, standing up and taking his arm.

"That's the spirit!" he encouraged. "After you, milady."

"You're ridiculous," Daphne laughed, but grabbed her keys and purse anyway, leaving the dorm once again.

"Yes, but you like it," he teased. They walked the short distance to the coffee shop in a comfortable silence, with her hand nestled in the crook of his arm. A surprisingly chipper barista greeted them at their arrival.

"After you, Daph," Simon said, gesturing for her to order first.

"Just a regular coffee, with cream and extra sugar, please," she said, reaching for her wallet. Simon gently stopped her hand, leaning slightly to whisper in her ear.

"My treat," he turned his attention to the barista. "A black coffee for me, please." The worker gave them their total, he paid and they gathered their beverages in record time. Simon led Daphne to a table, pulling her chair out for her with a small but dramatic bow. She laughed and shook her head.

"Thank you," she said softly as he settled into his own chair. He grasped her hand lightly in his from across the table.

"Have I told you before how stunning you are?" he asked, an almost searing look in his eyes. Daphne felt as if she couldn't breathe. She covered her lack of oxygen with a sip of coffee.

"You may have failed to mention that previously," she mustered a weak smile, her heart squeezing painfully at the wish that they were on a real date.

"How foolish of me," he shot her a sly half-smile. "A beauty such as yours should be pointed out often and in great detail."

"I don't know that I would go quite that far," she murmured, feeling a blush creep up her neck and to her cheeks. She willed it away but knew with her fair skin, it would be obvious.

"I would," he assured her, using the hand not holding hers to draw lazy patterns on the back of her hand. "You are truly exquisite. Even the most sparkling jewels would pale in your company."

"Simon," Daphne breathed, feeling almost faint. He smiled fully at her and she thought her heart would stop. They talked and laughed and drank their coffees and she lost herself in the feeling of being near him.

"It's almost one AM," he sighed. "Let's get you back to your dorm and you can try to write this poem." She nodded in agreement, yawning despite the coffee. She settled behind her desk when they arrived back at her room.

"You should stay here tonight," she suggested. "My bed is plenty big to give us both space and you look ready to pass out at any given moment."

"You're sure you're comfortable with that, Daph?" he asked, barely stifling a yawn. She shook her head.

"Go ahead and settle in," she told him. "You've helped me plenty. I'm sure I can get this done in the next twenty minutes or so." He eyed her skeptically, then reluctantly settled into her bed. He remained sitting up, watching her curiously as she wrote quickly in her notebook.

"Do I get to hear any of it?" he asked, startling her. She quickly shook her head no.

"Absolutely not!" she exclaimed, putting her pencil down and turning away from the desk. "I had to channel my inner-most hopeless romantic and it is far too embarrassing for you to hear." He laughed outright at her explanation.

"Very well then," he faked a pout. "I suppose I can just wait until the university deems it a work of art and publishes it in a compilation of up and coming poets."

"Oh, do shut up," she rolled her eyes and closed her notebook. "Go to sleep so I can change and join you in the bed." Her eyes widened and she felt her face flush once more as he rose an eyebrow at her word choice. With a final chuckle, he laid down and closed his eyes. She was certain he wasn't asleep but still changed into pajamas hastily. She slid under the covers next to him. He rolled over to face her.

"Goodnight, Daphne," he whispered in the dark. "For what it's worth, that was the best fake date I've ever been on." She laughed despite herself.

"Goodnight," she whispered back. "I can't help but agree." They both promptly let sleep overtake them and curiously ended up snuggled together within minutes.

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