“Mmhmm,” he agreed easily.“But you don’t actually sound like you mean no.”He took Mr.Moose from my grip and set him on a nearby bench.
Before I could argue, he raised his hand and waited.Asking permission, and being all Tristan-like.
The deck hummed beneath our feet, and the wind rushed past us, constant and anonymous.My heart felt anything but.
“This is...incredibly embarrassing,” I muttered, even as I slid my fingers into his.
His eyes softened.“I’ll take the heat.”
He guided my hand up, resting it lightly on his shoulder, his other hand settling at my waist with a carefulness that made my throat tighten.
We didn’t sway, at least not at first.
He moved, barely perceptible, a slow shift from foot to foot and instinct took over.My body followed before my brain could object.
“Oh my God,” I breathed.“We’re actually doing this.”
He leaned closer, his mouth near my ear, his voice pitched just for me.“Relax,” he whispered.“I’ve danced in worse places than this.”
“Youhave not.”I pulled back to search the amused expression upon his face.
“You should hear the stories I’m sparing you.”
Tucking my head against his sweater, the gap between us disappeared once again.He leaned his whiskery chin against my cheek and the warmth of his breath sent a shiver straight down my spine.
And quietly, almost absurdly, he started to sing.
It was soft, uneven at first, with words I recognized, coaxed into the space between us like a confession.An old Bryan Adams song.
I froze.“Are you...Are you seriously singing?”
“Barely,” he said, lips brushing my ear.“Think of it as...emotional support lyrics.”
I snorted despite myself.“You’re impossible.”
“And yet,” he murmured, “you’re still here.”
Yes I was.Swaying with him on a ferry deck, pretending the world hadn’t narrowed to the span of his arms.Pretending this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing I’d sworn I didn’t need.
My forehead tipped forward, resting briefly against his chest.His steady, unhurried heartbeat tapped beneath his sweater, as if he had all the time in the world.
We moved like that for another few seconds, likely longer.Much longer.Time had lost its grip on me.The wind wrapped around us, shielding and exposing us all at once.
When the ferry’s horn sounded in the distance, low and resonant, he slowed, before he stilled.
He didn’t pull away right away.
Neither did I.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
“For what?”
“For trusting me with that,” he replied.
I swallowed.“Don’t get used to it.”
His smile brushed against my hair.“I wouldn’t dare.”
