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“Well, you do kind of blend in.” He’s standing against a rail to the pond, under a tree and his black tux blends in with the night. He steps forward.
“Nice mask.”
“You like?”
“I do.” He’s wearing a Phantom of the Opera mask. It covers everything but his lips. He’s tall and muscular but I can’t tell much more than that.
I hum one of the tunes from the musical under my breath.
“May I?” He holds out a hand asking for a dance.
I grin. “You may.” I place my beer down on the rail.
He’s so poised. So formal. So very eloquent and polished that I’m intrigued. A few couples stroll through the gardens so I’m hardly afraid of my new stranger.
He takes me in his arms and we just sway. One song blends into another, then another. My tummy growls breaking the spell.
“Sorry. It’s a good thing you can’t see my blush through my mask.”
“Let’s get you something to eat.” He takes my hand. But I hesitate.
“Everything okay?”
I bite my lip, nodding. “I… there’s just someone giving me a hard time.”
“What?” He growls. “An enchanting creature like you? Come. I’ll protect you.”
And I believe him. He leads me through the dusk and back into the fray. My tiny hand is clasped tightly in his and maybe—just maybe I think I can cross off one more thing on my to do list:a romance with a handsome stranger.
People move out of our way. The crowd parts like a sea as he whisks me forward to the food truck, cutting the line and demanding I be fed. It’s bossy. Arrogant but cute as heck. No one’s ever fought for me. I like it. I like it a lot.
He leads me back over to our secluded spot and takes off his tuxedo jacket, placing it on the grass for me to sit on.
“What’s your name?”
“Can I give you a fake one?”
“Why?”
“Because I want to be anyone tonight. Does that sound crazy?”
He studies me from beneath his mask. “No. I get it. Sometimes I wish I could be someone else too. My responsibilities stop me from a lot of things…”
“Then simply call me Christine…”
“From the Phantom of the Opera?”
“You know it?”
“My sister made me take her when it played in Vegas. Three times.”
“Lucky girl.”
“She doesn’t think so. She thinks I’m a pain in her ass.”
“Are you?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. Fine, if you’re Christine then I’ll be Erik.”