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“Why am I here?” you think to yourself. “I should have stayed home in my sweatpants and just watched movies on Netflix. It was the annual Smithsonian gala and, while you were just an archivist who toiled in the cavernous stacks all day, you were invited to rub elbows with the donors and staff alike. If only they'd rub elbows with you. Like most days at work, you were invisible in plain sight, fading into the background.
“May I have this dance?” a warm voice asks, flawlessly shining shoes slipping into your field of vision. You look up to see a devastatingly handsome man, tuxedo clad, standing in front of you, hand extended. Without thinking, you accept his hand and he leads you to the dance floor, one hand at your waist and the other intertwined with yours.
“I’m Dave, by the way,” he says, pulling you closer to him as you sway.
“I’m-”
“I know your name sweetheart,” he explains, offering your own name to you, a warmth on it you’ve never known.
“How do you know me?”
“Would you believe me if I said I was a secret agent?”
“Not really,” you chuckle. “Although it’s DC so I guess you could be.”
“A woman with an open mind, I appreciate that.”
“But really Dave, how did you know my name? My colleagues don’t even seem to know that.”
“I know more than your name, little bookworm.”
Your eyes go wide. “What do you mean?”
“I know you’ve been in the archives here for five years, you don’t drink coffee, you prefer Earl Grey tea, even in the summer months you carry a sweater because it’s cold in the stacks, and you always eat lunch under the covered walkway behind your building.” He holds you tightly while he recites this, feeling the tension in your body increase.
Your eyes narrow at him, “Are you a stalker Dave?”
He laughs quietly. “I watch people. I’ve been working around the complex for about a year and I’ve noticed you.”
“Me? No one notices me unless they run into me Dave. I work on the hall with a guy who still calls me ‘Peggy’.”
“I know that too. You blend in well, I think it’s a defense mechanism. But when people look past you, they’re looking past the most beautiful woman in the room.”
You laugh,”Oh so you’re a liar AND a stalker!”
Dave spun you graceful across the floor as the music shifted, an old favorite song filling the space. “I may be many things bookworm, but a liar is not one of them. I wanted to talk to you before now, but I didn’t want to scare you. I figured you’d feel safe in a room full of people.”
“People who wouldn’t notice if I disappeared,” you tried to make your voice sound level.
“I’m not doing a very good job of making myself sound normal. I’m sorry.” The song ends and Dave leads you to the side of the room, still holding your hand. “Can you trust me enough to get some coffee with me?”
The earnestness in his eyes surprises you. He’s the first person to see you in a long time, even if it’s weird. Was it worth taking a chance?
“I’d love to Dave, as long as you promise not to murder me.”
He chuckles again, “Deal.”