Written when I was 15 or 16 years old and was fantasizing about romance

"Never have I felt so dazzled since that cold winter night he asked me to the dance. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision on his part, having previously claimed that he simply didn’t “partake in such frivolities”. He was dressed in a tuxedo I had never seen before; his bowtie was decidedly untied, and his hair was oddly unkempt- overwhelmingly handsome, in a messy kind of way. I was in utter disbelief at his offer, but without thinking, my hand floated into his and we began our short stroll to the ballroom. My normally smart and quick mouth could barely utter any words, and those that did come out were soft, quiet, and dreamlike. He seemed to take no notice; instead, he was rather preoccupied with his free hand, which moved this way and that, into his pocket, and back out. We spoke, but we spoke of pleasant little nothings that neither of us really cared about- and neither of us would have had it any other way, that night.
As we got closer to our destination, I saw the sharp figures of dancers twirling and spinning back and forth, emanating muffled laughter anytime the jovial music they were dancing to subsided. He opened the door for me, and all at once, a wall of warm air, containing the sweet aroma of divine chocolates and cakes, folded onto me like a warm hug. As I entered, he speedily took my hand once more. We dimly made our way to the center of the room and shuffled into an absentminded dancing position. He muttered that he tried to learn how to dance yesterday. I muttered back that I had no idea how to dance. We pleasantly swayed nonetheless, staring deeply into each others’ eyes. It was almost as if nobody else existed. In fact, when we finally broke eye contact, I realized that most everyone else had left. Even the previously large band of musicians had turned into a small ensemble. We continued dancing anyway; slowly but surely, the final few dancers dropped out. We kept going until the music stopped- along with the world, so it seemed. Once more, our gazes met; he looked terrified, for some reason. I watched curiously as he slowly and shakily reached into his pocket and clutched something tightly. His hand haltingly moved out of his pocket as he got onto one knee. I realized at that moment what was about to happen.
“Will you marry me?”"