Withdraw

I placed my hand in his and we began to dance, right there in his living room. The music was loud, seeping down from the flat above. I never thought I liked jazz, but I never really thought about dancing much either. We were making up steps clumsily, his free hand lingering on the small of my back. I pushed myself onto my tip toes like I was wearing a designer heel, the balls of my feet gracing the soft carpet, and our faces were level. I held his stare, blue eyes caught with my own dull brown ones. His gaze drifted down to my lips for a split second, but before it had time to register in my head he was spinning me around again, and there was only space in my mind for our surrounding laughter and Ella Fitzgerald serenading us through what sounded like a gramophone.

daisyfairy, 2012. NaNoWriMo.