"Not gonna lie, I'm freaking out a bit," I tell Owen as we approached the function suite. "I feel like I'm going to walk through this door and find myself in my old gym hall, wearing my school uniform and my glasses, and feeling like an absolute outcast."
He laughs. "Me too. Now, let's go in before you convince me not to go through with this." He pushes the door open, and the music blasts out at us.
The first thing I notice is the band in the far corner, seemingly having an amazing time as they play away. The room is full of people of a wide variety of ages, much to my surprise. I was expecting it might just be old people, for some reason.
Speaking of old dears, my one-time love rival Sheena sails past at that point, in the arms of a man far closer to her own age. "Och, hello there!" She coos in our direction. " I didn't think this would be your scene!"
"We're just putting some old demons to rest," Owen calls after her. He glances at me. "How are you coping so far?"
I inhale hard. "Let's see . . . Sweaty palms, heart beating too fast . . . Yeah, I've pretty much regressed to my standard teenage state when faced with this scenario." A nervous giggle escapes me, far higher-pitched than my normal laugh.
He slips a hand into mine and squeezes it. My heart contracts in tandem. "I think you're imagining the clammy palms; they feel pretty dry to me." He leads me further into the room, just as a new song starts. "Come on, let's see if muscle memory kicks in - this one sounds familiar."
We slot ourselves into the pairs dancing in a wide circle around the room and start to follow the moves of the couple in front of us. "Ah, it's the Canadian Barn Dance," I remember. "It's all coming screaming back to me now."
Owen moves his hand to my waist. "Your hand goes on my shoulder," he tells me, still observing the other couple. "This feels far less awkward with you already," he adds, and I know what he means. And he's right about muscle memory too - the moves are second nature to me within just a few beats of the music. I'm surprised to discover I'm actually starting to enjoy it!
My favourite part isn't the dancing, though. It's the skin-on-skin contact, usually fleeting but thrilling all the same. It's the eye contact any time we come back together after being forced to move apart as part of the dance. It's the smile on Owen's face, the genuine happiness that is radiating off him.
It's the way being around him makes me feel.
The song concludes, and we all pause in our pairings. "That was more fun than I thought it would be!" I say breathlessly. Our eyes meet again. Hold. We're still tangled in each other, and neither of us move to free ourselves. I feel like my feet are glued to the floor. Maybe they are; I noticed it was a little sticky when we first walked in.
"Turns out all you need is the right partner," he replies, his voice so soft I can barely hear it over the music.
Electricity hums in the air between us, only interrupted by another lively tune beginning. But the music washes over me, merely white noise as Owen leans into me and presses the briefest of kisses to my lips, as light as a feather floating past in the wind.
My eyes flutter closed. "More," I whisper. "I need more." I'm craving it. I'm craving him. That infinitesimal kiss was nowhere near enough to satisfy me. It was one of those teensy little appetisers that just leaves you desperate for something bigger.
"Me too." He brushes his mouth against mine again, lingers there. "But not here."
"Then . . . Where?" I murmur, feeling the warmth of his breath against my face. "When?"
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The Reluctant Roadtripper (A Romantic Comedy)
ЧиклитI can only see half of his face, reflected in the mirror at the front of the bus, and part of that is obscured by the peak of the black company-branded cap he's wearing. But I can see enough to glean that there's a strong jaw covered in scruff. A wi...
