It also glows.
The song ends, but neither of us immediately moves. His hand remains at my waist. Mine remains on his arm. The next song starts louder, faster, and absurd enough to break the spell before I drown in it.
I step back with a laugh. “You survived.”
“Barely.”
“You were good.”
“I was not.”
“You were better than the racing simulator.”
“That machine was inadequate.”
“You did not fit.”
“That was its inadequacy.”
We return to our booth, and this time he sits beside me instead of across from me because the bar has grown crowded and because I do not move away. Our shoulders do not quite touch. The space between them feels intentional, alive.
We share dessert, something ridiculous involving fried dough, cream, and glittering sugar crystals. Kauss says it is “structurally unsound” and then eats half of it. I steal the last bite and he looks at me as if theft may be charming under very specific circumstances.
By the time we leave, the rain has stopped. Downtown shines around us, towers lit, hover traffic streaming overhead like constellations trained into lanes. The night air tastes clean after the bar, cool and electric against my skin. Kauss walks besideme, quieter than before but not withdrawn. His arm brushes mine once. Neither of us comments.
At the transit platform, he looks down at me. “Was this acceptable?”
I laugh softly. “Kauss, this was wonderful.”
His face stills.
“Wonderful,” he repeats, as if testing whether the word can bear weight.
“Yes.”
“I did not ruin it?”
“No.”
“I asked about exits.”
“You did.”
“I discussed beer terminology.”
“You did.”
“I failed the racing machine.”
“You absolutely did.”
His mouth curves, small but real. “And still wonderful?”
“Especially wonderful.”
The skiff arrives in a rush of light and warm air. We board together, and this time, when he sits beside me, I let my shoulder rest against his arm. He looks down at the contact. His body goes still for a moment. Then, slowly, carefully, he relaxes.
I watch downtown slide away through the window, all glitter and height, giving way gradually to lower buildings, dimmer lights, patched roofs, and Halo’s stubborn ring around the industrial heart.
