I smooth out my dress as I hear the door knock.
"Hello." I say as I see Harry, leaning against the door as usual.
"I'll get my jacket."
"Actually," He grabs my arm. "I thought we could stay here."
"Oh!" My voice squeaks, I put my hand on my throat. "Good idea. Come in."
He comes in. Than goodness the room's clean, right? Well, except for Harry's side.
"Uh, my husband's stuff." I try to say seriously.
"Must be quite a guy." He says.
"Nah, not really."
We walk to the terrace and sit down. He leans in towards me.
"So, what's your full name?" He asks.
"Bridget Rae Sty-. Bridget Rae." I don't like to say my maiden name, you know why.
"Well, Bridget. How about we dance?" He extends his hand, waiting for me to decline or accept. He's KNOWS I can't dance. But, what the heck. I accept.
He smiles as I get up. He puts his hand on my back and we dance around, stumbling is the better name for it.
"Uh, I can't dance very well." I look at him.
"It's ok. One, two, three, one, two, three." He says. I finally get the hang of it. The door knocks again. I turn off the music and go to the door.
"Madam, for you." The bellhop says.
"Thank you, sir." I bring in a little letter. My hands go over the edge, finally opening it. I read it to myself. I look at Harry and smle. I run over to him and kiss him.
"Woah! This is our fir-." He looks at me, then he kisses me.
"You big flirt." I whisper in his ear. I put the note on the table and we continue to dance. We dance, dance, dance, and dance some more. Finally I look at the clock. "Harry, it's four in the morning." I smile.
"Oh, sorry." He gets his jacket and heads for the door.
"Um," I know he plans on getting another room since we're re-meeting. "Harry?"
He turns towards me.
"You know, this is a big city. It's full of big bad people." I put my hand on his neck. "I might need protection." He smiles and leans down to kiss me.
"Got that covered." He shuts the door and locks it, showing me that he wasn't leaving. It'd look weird that my husband was buying his own room. The French might think poorly of us.
"Good! You may sleep on the floor!" I throw him a pillow and blanket.
"Um, ok. You have something on your face." He points to kis cheek. I go in the bathroom to check.
"There's nothing the-." I look at my bed, where Harry has reclined. "Wow, that's low." I say. I pull back the cover. I give him a kiss and lay down, wearing my sweatpants and a T-shirt of Harry's that he outgrew. "Wait, this is supposed to be our first date."
"So we move faster than most people, who cares?" He laughs and turns out the light.
"Lo-" I stop, remembering that we're still acting as if it's our first date. You don't say that on the first date. You say that when you're married, have a four year old named Darcy, and have your own house.
"Love you too." He says. I knudge him teasingly and go to bed.
"We're so bad at this." I mutter.
"We've been married for four years! Give yourself a break, Bridget." He laughs.