Evangeline quickly set the glass down, coughing softly as the burn spread down her throat. She hadn't realized it was alcohol—let alone something stronger than the usual kind.
"They must have offered me the wrong drink," she murmured, trying to compose herself.
So she smiled faintly and placed her hand in his, her touch light and hesitant. She tried to offer a smile though it didn't come too widely. "I only hope you don't mind my dreadful dancing skills," she murmured.
"N–No, I don't mind— I mean! You couldn't possibly have dreadful dancing skills," Liam stammered in a rush.
As he looked over her shoulder, Evangeline followed his gaze and spotted three young men about his age, half-hidden by the crowd, raising their glasses to hide their laughter as they cheered him on.
"Perhaps they mistook you for a Seraphess," said a warm voice.
