"Yeah," she breathed. "This is more than okay."
We danced through three more songs. Fast ones where we laughed and spun and nearly crashed into other couples who were too drunk to care or too in love to notice. Slow ones where the world narrowed to just us, her body pressed against mine, her breath warm against my neck, my hand tightening on her waist like I was afraid she might disappear, if I let go.
The electricity between us was impossible to ignore now. Every touch sent sparks up my arm. Every look held weight. Every moment her fingers brushed my neck or my hand slid across her back felt like a question we were both too careful to answer out loud yet.
We took a break, grabbing water, catching our breath, both of us flushed and laughing and alive.
Beth and Natasha were dancing with a group of locals who'd clearly adopted them for the night—teaching them line dances, buying them drinks, having the kind of fun that made everyone around them smile. Natasha waved us over, but Sophie shook her head.
"I need a minute," she said, fanning herself with one hand, hair sticking slightly to her neck.
We found a quieter corner, leaning against the wall, watching the crowd move and sway and live, the music pulsing through the floorboards.
"You having fun?" I asked.
"Yeah." She looked up at me, eyes bright, smile genuine and unguarded. "I really am."
"Good."
"You?"
"Best night I've had in a long time," I admitted. "Maybe ever."
Her expression shifted—something vulnerable flickering across her face. "Me, too."
We stood there for a moment, the noise of the bar fading into background static, like someone had turned the volume down on everything that wasn't her.
"Wyatt—"
"Sophie—"
We both stopped, laughing at the timing, at how in sync we were, even now.
"You first," I said.
She bit her lip, considering her words carefully. "I'm glad we found each other again. I didn't know I needed this until it happened."
"Me, too."
"I mean it," she continued, voice dropping lower, more intimate. "I didn't realize how much I missed—" She stopped, shook her head. "This. You. Us. Whatever we were and whatever we might be."
Something in my chest cracked open, warm and dangerous and terrifying.
"Soph ..."
The band kicked into another song—loud, fast, demanding attention, breaking the moment before it could fully form into something we'd have to acknowledge.
"Come on," she said, grabbing my hand again, pulling me back toward the floor. "One more."
We danced until we were both breathless and laughing and drunk on something that had nothing to do with alcohol. Until my shirt was sticking to my back and her hair was coming loose from whatever she'd done to it. Until the space between us felt like the only real thing in the room, the only thing that mattered.
And when the night finally started winding down, when Beth and Natasha were saying their goodbyes to their new friends and the band was packing up their equipment with tired efficiency, Sophie turned to me.
"Walk me out?"
"Yeah. Of course."
We stepped outside into the warm Charleston night, the air thick and alive with humidity and possibility and the promise of something just out of reach, music still thumping faintly behind us through the walls.
