champagne problems

6.1K 60 4
                                    

His eyes had been trained on her the entire evening, for even when she couldn't see him within the glittering swirl of the ton, she could feel him. She could feel the fiery blaze in which his deep and dark scrutiny burned against her flesh, distance and a boisterous crowd doing little to diminish the effect of his shadowy amber stare. It was strong, even when it was silent without a single word to be spoken, the feeling of Anthony Bridgerton's unrelenting stare upon her being from across the ballroom, was overwhelming. 

She caught his gaze at some point during the evening, a faint turn of her attention resulting in her simple glance becoming captivated by his stilled stare. A simple flutter of her eyelashes as her lips pressed gently against the smooth rim of her champagne flute, both movements stalled immediately as her sight landed upon the heaviness of his deep brown gaze, staring at her from the opposite side of the room. Through the mass of dancing debutantes still searching for their perfect match, past members of the ton who drank greedily and whispered gossips that floated through the room like a lone feather in the wind. His gaze was steady through the blurring swish of bold colors and twinkling embellishments, that painted the ballroom as though fresh streaks in a watercolor. Anthony Bridgerton leaned back against the delicately designed wall, his stance relaxed but his demeanor politely composed. He stood before the peering eyes of the ton as a dignified Viscount, but he stared her down like the roguish rake that they both knew he was.  

His stare didn't falter as he brought his own drink to his lips, parting them against the glimmering rim, letting the smooth bubbling liquid glide down his throat in a single swallow. She cursed the way he looked, so self-possessed and indisputably attractive, in his perfectly tailored attire. The intricate detailing along the fabric of his ivory waist coat, disappearing into the pure ink black shade of his tailcoat, consuming him in an alluring combination of contradicting colors. For the white brought out a softness amongst his rigid and stern expressions, but the black hid it away as though it was never there to begin with. It was in that single expression, the faint passing of ticking seconds that their eyes were locked, that she tore away her gaze. Returning her attention to those around her seeking for a moment of conversation with her and her fiancé.  

Although she continued to feel the burning weight of his strong scrutiny upon her softly lace draped shoulders in the hours that followed, she hadn't returned her gaze to Anthony's, managing to avoid the corners he stood in and the circles he conversed within. She dodged the sight of his strong and relentless stare until it was no longer an option, lifting her gaze to his deeply flared brown eyes as his fingers slipped around her own gloved palm. Pressing his lips to her knuckles in a delicate meeting, as he made his way to introduce himself to her fiancé. She saw through his façade the second Anthony made his way through the crowd and sauntered over to the couple. She'd seen his display of toxic masculinity for what it was immediately, detecting the disingenuousness in his words that were saturated in patronizing courtesy. She knew the polite curl of his lips was anything but a sincere smile, the expression he wore may have managed to deceive her fiancé, but she could read Anthony Bridgerton like the clear cover of a book. 

It was for that reason, that nearly intolerable encounter that left her with an unwanted taste lingering upon her taste buds, that her softly pattering heels led her out of the ballroom. Slipping from the comforting embrace of her fiancé's company, seeking a moment away from the air that was tainted with the insincerity and garish display of those around her. She hurried past tables that glimmered with the reflection of light against their delicate china, through the bustle of scouting mothers and their desperate daughters, until she passed through the wide doorway. The skirt of her deep violet gown sweeping against the base of her ankles, as she flew down the corridor, never once raising her attention to those brushing against her shoulders on their way into the party. The sound of roaring instrumental melodies and the endless chatter of society's highest regards, melding away to the background as she found her footsteps finally beginning to slow as she reached a vacant room. It was engulfed in deep shadows, the walls dancing with the absence of light from the bright glow of the ball, left rooms and a mere hallway away now. 

Anthony Bridgerton One ShotsWhere stories live. Discover now