I smirked at you and shook my head, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans before I did something stupid like run to you as fast as I could and put them all over your body.
“What is this shit you’re making me listen to?” I asked, deciding to try something new and actually have a conversation with you.
“It’s Justin Bieber,” you replied with a roll of your eyes.
“It’s crap, is what it is.”
Surprisingly, you didn’t have a comeback. You took a few steps in my direction, pointed at me, and did that whole finger curl thing again, silently telling me to get my ass over to you.
“I don’t dance, Legs.”
It’s a good thing I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, otherwise I would have missed the little shiver that ran through your body when I called you “Legs.”
You immediately stalked the rest of the way to me, grabbed my forearms, and yanked my hands out of my pockets. Sliding your soft, warm palms against mine, you interlaced our fingers and tugged me towards you, walking backwards as I let you lead me.
“I said I don’t dance, Legs. I leave it up to the professionals, like you,” I informed you when we got to the center of the room.
You stopped walking, standing just a few inches away from me, and craned your neck to look up at me. I could feel the heat from your body and I wished I’d had the guts to mold myself to the front of you and wrap my arms around you.
“I’ve spent a week dancing my ass off with your stupid music requests. Now it’s my turn,” you informed me, giving me a taste of my own medicine with a sarcastic smile.
The beat of the music picked up, and with our hands still locked together, you started moving your hips to the rhythm of the song, dancing right in front of me. You used my hands to help you dance, lifting them up as you shook and twisted your body until I couldn’t fight the smile I’d been holding back.
“You just need to feel the music, Cowboy,” You spoke loudly over the thumping base and keyboard blasting through the speakers. “Feel the music and go with the flow.”
You let go of one of my hands and held tightly to the other as you swung herself out and away from me with a flourish. Quickly twirling back towards me, my arm wrapped around your body as you spun until there was nowhere else for you to go and you slammed into my chest.
We stood there, chest-to-chest, me staring down into your gorgeous green eyes and you staring up into mine, both of us breathing a little too heavy. You felt so right against me. So good in my arms. I wanted to stand like this with you for the rest of the day, but I knew if I didn’t do something fast, there’d be no hiding my hard-on that was two seconds away from poking you in the stomach.
I tightened my hold on our hands that were still linked together, gave your shoulder a little nudge, and spun you away, yanking you right back to me. As soon as your chest collided with mine again, I wrapped my free arm around your waist and held you tightly against me.
“Just feel the music, huh?” I asked with a wink.
“Um, yep. Sure,” you muttered quickly, not making any move to push away from me.
I could tell by the look in your eyes and the way you pressed yourself even closer to me without realizing it that you felt the same thing I did. Not wanting to freak you out by professing my undying love for you before we’d shared more than a few sentences in the last week, I decided to do something that I hoped would put a smile on your face and maybe even shock you a little.
I started moving my hips and you moved right along with me, until your eyes widened when you realized we were dancing together. With our bodies flush from hip to chest and our eyes locked on each other, I started shuffling my feet, taking you with me in a dirty-dancing, ballroom-type move. I never thought the rare time my mother showed interest in me when I was younger and she forced me to take a ballroom dancing class that it would actually pay off someday.
With my arm still around your waist, our linked hands in perfect partner-dance formation up by our shoulders, you pressed your free palm to my chest. I hoped to God you’d think the rapid beat of my heart against your hand was because of the dancing and not because of you being close to me, or I’d never have the upper hand with you. I was beginning to realize it was going to take a lot of willpower to have any kind of advantage over you.
“I thought you couldn’t dance?” you asked, as we expertly moved in sync around the room.
I immediately pushed against your hip, still clutching your hand as I pushed you away from me again and then pulled you right back. Your face lit up with a smile, and unguarded laughter flew out of your mouth when you slammed against my chest, staring up at me in awe.
“I said I DON’T dance, not that I couldn’t. With the way you’re lookin’ at me right now, Legs, I’m pretty sure I’d agree to just about anything,” I told you, before I spun you back out again, lifted our hands above your head, and twirled your body around and around in front of me.
Your laughter filled the room and it was the best fucking sound I’d ever heard in my life.
I take back what I said before I told you this story. I actually did fall in love with you that day…the first time I heard you laugh.
—Eli
When I get to the end of the letter, I want to scream through my tears. I want to curse and yell and smash everything breakable in this fucking house until I’m so exhausted I can’t think anymore. My heart hurts so much that I don’t know how to handle it. I drop the letter on top of the pile and press both hands to my chest as hard as I can to make it stop hurting.
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to feel and I just want the pain to go away. I need to be angry. I know how to handle anger and I know how to get rid of it when it overwhelms me. But I don’t know how to stop hurting. I don’t know how to stop wishing I could go back in time and stop him from leaving. Make him stay with me no matter why he felt he had to leave so we could have that moment in the studio back and have it be as perfect as it was that summer day six years ago. I don’t even care if I can’t dance anymore. I just want to go back and remember how good it felt to stop trying to hide how in love with him I was, back when I still had hope and I still had something left to give him.
My phone dings with yet another text message and I furiously swipe at the tears on my cheeks, pick the damn thing up, and lift my arm to hurl it against the wall. My eyes flicker to the screen and I slowly lower my arm and stare at the new text message from an unknown number
Hey, it’s Eli. Would you look at that. It seems I still have all my old contacts. Now you can’t ignore me. Five days is long enough, Beautiful. Meet me in the studio after the sun goes down. Don’t worry. I have a key.
Chapter 19
Eli
Oh, my God.”