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Swaying Isn't Dancing
It was like the first time, but different.
They'd been in the parking lot, a half a foot's worth of space separating them, connected only by a thin string which served to pipe music into their respective ears.
The next day he'd said it was like dancing and she didn't agree. He'd revised his assessment, dubbing it swaying and she said that it still didn't count.
At the time it was all they would allow themselves.
It was like the second time, but not quite.
That night he couldn't shake the feeling that just saying the words wasn't quite enough. He'd followed her, caught sight of her bathed in that soft light and decided he'd already put it all out there, one more push couldn't hurt.
She'd sighed when he kissed her, her hands moving to pull him closer still. She stumbled a bit when his arms closed around her.
There was no music this time, they swayed in time with the sound of their lips meeting over and over until finally, they took a step apart.
And when she let him know, silent still, that it was closer, but not quite enough, his fingers lingered over hers, reluctant to really let her go.
The third time she was free and he was wary.
They found themselves beside each other, back in the same town again watching Phyllis with her face lit up and flushed like a teenager.
Involuntarily her hand brushed his and he squeezed her fingertips briefly before letting go.
When the band began to play again they'd quickly become surrounded.
There was really no other option than to simply give in.
His eyes asked the question, she nodded in reply and then he stepped closer, lifting her delicate hand in his, pressing his palm to the small of her back.
He was careful not to get too close.
She focused on his tie, afraid to look up and see his expression.
When she moved closer she heard him suck in a breath.
She couldn’t hear a thing over the pounding of her heart. She slipped her hand from his, curled her arm around his neck and rested her cheek on his chest.
His arms held her closer and he bowed his head, his lips brushing over the top of hers. It was then that the tears came, slow and steady, soaking his shirtfront.
She thought they might have turned a circle, but she wasn't quite sure. She couldn't feel her feet, sure that leaning against him was the only thing keeping her upright.
"I'm sorry." She whispered as her fingers moved to play with the unruly hair curling over his collar.
"I know." He replied as his arms tightened around her. A few moments later he whispered her name.
"Uh huh?" She murmured, still clinging to him,
His voice was low and husky in her ear, his breath tickling her skin. "Song's over."
Red faced she linked her fingers with his, simply followed as he led her off the dance floor, rushed her down the stairs and to the fresh air outside.
Soon she was in his arms again and he twirled her, pressing her back against the building, their mouths moving desperately, the soundtrack now was simply the sound of them simultaneously letting out the breath they'd both been holding for so long.
It still wasn't quite dancing. But almost.