Page 55 of Until the Last Star Fades

“Hope, c’mere!”

Screw it! I don’t care either!

Riley joined in, swaying her hips and tossing her hair. Ben laughed and clutched her hands, encouraging her to jump higher, to sing louder, his smile bright and reassuring. “Go on, Riles!”

She jumped and giggled, breathlessly shouting the chorus with Ben, letting their inner goofs rise to the surface as their cheeks ached with glee. “Dancing with myself, oh, oh, oh, OH!” They howled with laughter, playfully punching the air as they shook their heads until the room was a blur of colorful twirls and swirling light. If students were staring, the pair had no clue—and they didn’t care. A few times they stumbled and bounced off each other, releasing more giggles and leaping about.

I am dying, but this is FUN! Riley fought for breath and grabbed Ben’s hand. My legs hurt and my lungs hate me, but I haven’t laughed this hard in so long!

The song was building to its sweaty finish when DJ Bob abruptly plunged into Cyndi Lauper’s “Time After Time”. Most people groaned and stomped off the dance floor while a few drunkenly fumbled and paired up. The couple at Ben’s shoulder began devouring each other’s faces, their roaming hands getting as much of a workout as their mouths.

A twinge of heat flooded Riley’s chest. Normally, she wouldn’t react at all, but normally Ben wouldn’t be stroking her hand with his thumb. He hasn’t let go. Adorable Ben with the unruly hair and stupid Christmas socks and stubble where no guy should have stubble. The warmth of his finger caressing her skin quickened her breath. Riley, you’re just lonely. Let go. Releasing her grip, she gave him an exhausted smile. “Get that drink now?”

“Yeah, I’m parched.” He smiled back.

They inched their way over to the bar, which was a no bigger than a kitchen counter, and joined the thirsty swarm. Their talk skirted what had just happened, tackling the weather, Piper’s puppets, and favorite alcoholic beverages (a sidecar for Riley, Stella for Ben). After what felt like the longest five minutes of waiting in her life, Riley ordered a soda for herself and treated Ben to a bottle of his fave brew, the grin returning to his face when she pressed it into his hand.

“It’s been too long.”

“Since your last Stella?” She took a quick sip of her soda, walking a few steps over to a claim a sliver of ledge on the wall for their drinks.

“No, dancing like that.” Ben wiped his face with his forearm, removing beads of sweat but not his beaming smile. “Surrendering to the music, forgetting my problems.”

I actually forgot too…about cancer, about Josh. Riley stared into her drink.

“You having fun, Riles?”

“I am.” Her chin lifted along with her voice.

“Really? You don’t have to pretend—”

“No, I am—really! I can’t remember the last time I danced…or went out on a Monday. It’s nice to escape for a bit.”

He took a large swig of beer. “I think we should make this the rule and not the exception.”

“Clubbing on Mondays?”

The smile refused to abandon his face. “No, doing things we’ve never done—or rarely do. We could even make it a competition. You up for it?”

Riley hated being pushed out of her comfort zone. “Depends on what those things are.”

“Nothing illegal—mind you, I wasn’t the one who snuck in here without paying cover, so that’s on you, Hope.”

Nothing illegal, says the charming kleptomaniac.

He set down his beer and took off his hoodie. His t-shirt—a damp Duran Duran concert tee—tucked into the front of his jeans, drew a grin to Riley’s lips.

“Is that one of those retro tees from Urban Outfitters?”

“Blimey O’Riley! What do you take me for? A bandwagon-jumping millennial? This shirt was born in 1984!”

“Wow, it’s in pretty good shape for a relic.” She laughed. “I like the colors. So, what’s with you and the eighties, then? The Pac-Man tattoo, this place—you were wearing a Police tee the other night. You weren’t even born in the eighties.”

“The shirts were my uncle’s. Mum kept them in an old trunk.” He folded his hoodie, piling it behind him on the ledge. “Mum grew up in the eighties, so—”

A drunk dude bowled into Riley, slopping her soda. “Ow, shit!”

Ben swung back around. “Riles?”