His mouth hitched at the corner in a lopsided smile. She suddenly looked just as awkward as he felt. Maybe she was letting him dance just to be nice, or to avoid causing a scene, but he didn’t care. It was a risk he would take, even if she broke his fingers and he couldn’t play for a month. You took chances or you went home empty-handed.
“Okay.” He risked putting one hand on her shoulder -- so far so good -- and the other circled her lower back, which would send a signal to anybody near them. She was with him, at least for a song. He brought her closer. She smelled pretty, like a bouquet of feminine scents, and a little like alcohol. There was a shine on the middle of her lip, recently wet. He tried not to stare at it. “C’mere.” The closer he got, the more her head fit into that spot under his chin. Brian started to dance. He didn’t do that in public a lot, but he could move. Being a musician meant he had rhythm, enough not to embarrass himself, anyway.
He was painfully aware of the running time of that song: just under four minutes. It was on constant rotation in the record shop. Four minutes. Four minutes to start fixing things, if it was possible. He guessed the argument that split them up lasted about four minutes. Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, he thought. Just try to lay the groundwork. But it was tough. He wasn’t in the practice of being around Valerie and keeping his hands to himself, or his mouth. The soft curve of her earlobe was near his mouth; that was just how they lined up. He bumped it by accident and it felt hot because he’d just given himself brain freeze with that drink and chewed that piece of ice.
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ninetydegrees
no subject
on 2014-03-10 03:58 pm (UTC)“Okay.” He risked putting one hand on her shoulder -- so far so good -- and the other circled her lower back, which would send a signal to anybody near them. She was with him, at least for a song. He brought her closer. She smelled pretty, like a bouquet of feminine scents, and a little like alcohol. There was a shine on the middle of her lip, recently wet. He tried not to stare at it. “C’mere.” The closer he got, the more her head fit into that spot under his chin. Brian started to dance. He didn’t do that in public a lot, but he could move. Being a musician meant he had rhythm, enough not to embarrass himself, anyway.
He was painfully aware of the running time of that song: just under four minutes. It was on constant rotation in the record shop. Four minutes. Four minutes to start fixing things, if it was possible. He guessed the argument that split them up lasted about four minutes. Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, he thought. Just try to lay the groundwork. But it was tough. He wasn’t in the practice of being around Valerie and keeping his hands to himself, or his mouth. The soft curve of her earlobe was near his mouth; that was just how they lined up. He bumped it by accident and it felt hot because he’d just given himself brain freeze with that drink and chewed that piece of ice.