We have nearly two minutes to situate ourselves, and take our coats off because it’s warm in here.
The minute the movie starts, he laughs.
“Mighty Ducks, are you for real?” he says through laughter. I shrug.
“It’s the first movie we ever watched together.”
I don’t miss the sparkle in his eyes at my words, or the way his gaze dips to my lips, then back at me.
I know enough now to know exactly what that look means.
He wants to kiss me.
Or quite possibly, he wants me to kiss him. That makes me smile like a kid on Christmas morning.
Even after all this time.
He can’t deny this either.
I angle myself a little closer to him.
“I can’t believe you remember that,” he says as he shifts in his seat. The motion makes our shoulders knock together.
“I know it’s your favorite,” I say, glancing up at him as I remember another time, when we were young. Squished on his twin bed in the dorm, with a box of pizza between us.
The laughter dies and we both focus on the movie. We laugh so much, it feels like my lungs might explode. Halfway through the movie, I lean my head on his shoulder, and he doesn’t push me away. Instead his hand finds my knee and it stays there until the credits roll.
After the movie, when we’re back out in the cold, we both stand under the marquee lights.
“Walk with me?” I ask, and he nods. I wasn’t sure we’d make it past the movie honestly. I wasn’t sure if he’dwantto hang out afterwards, but something tells me he isn’t quite ready to let go of this moment either, so I make my move.
We pass a little bar with music blaring out from below. The lights shine on us as the dark, bass-ridden beats fill the air as the singer drones about kissing someone under milky twilight, whatever that means. I stop and he does, too.
And for the first time, I don’t think about what I want to say or do. I just go for it.
“Wanna dance?” I ask with a shrug. Cameron raises an eyebrow.
“Here? On the sidewalk?” He chuckles.
“Yes,” I say confidently, looking him in the eye.
The singer continues to sing on about fireflies dancing, and I stand tall, flashing my gaze at him. I’m terrified he’ll say no. That I’ve miscalculated, and I just embarrassed the hell out of myself. But when I look at him, all the nerves disappear.
“Is this your part three?” he asks as he steps closer to me, settling his hand on my hip.
I shake my head as I pull him close and we start to sway.
“Dinner, a movie, and spontaneous dancing?” He smirks. Teasing me.
“No, but there is a part three,” I say with a smile. His palm on my hip is warm. I carefully rest my arms around his neck like we’re in middle school, because honestly I don’t know how to dance with a guy. But the minute they find their home around his neck, I relax and pull myself closer. I don’t question it. I just do what feels right.
I dance with him because it’s what I want to do. And this is New York and people have seen crazier things.
“Of course, there is,” he says, his voice dark, deep. His gaze flashes to my lips and they stay there.
I lick my lips as I look up at him. I know it’s forward, and I know I could very well be miscalculating everything, but something tells me I’m not.
If he pushes me away, I’ll know. I’ll know where I stand.
