We were outside in the dark.
When you fall asleep
The dance was still going strong inside the gym, all sparkles and booming bass and toes getting stepped on. But the terrible rap music had driven us to the locker room, and prying eyes had driven us from the locker room to the parking lot. We had decided being out in the chill February air was better than losing our hearing or being spied on.
With your head upon my shoulder
A song was playing from your phone, the song you played in the car on our first date, the song I listened to immediately after you dropped me off at my house, the song which was now cemented as our song.
When you’re in my arms
We were swaying to the beat – you had your hands on my hips (and just my hips) – and listening to the singer. I had my arms wrapped around your shoulders, the stiff polyester of your suit scratching just a little bit (not a lot; it didn’t hurt or anything). I had wondered if the chiffon of my dark navy dress felt the same way under your hands.
But you’ve gone somewhere deeper
For the life of me, I can’t remember if I put my head on your shoulder. I remember thinking about it, but I can’t remember if I did it. I didn’t want to get makeup on you, but did I think “screw it” and just went for it anyway? I can’t remember.
Are you going to age with grace?
The stars were our peers that night; they seemed to wink and nod and giggle at us as if they knew too much, as if they knew exactly how this was all going to play out. It felt so surreal to be dancing under them with you in the dark. So surreal.
Are you going to age without mistakes?
I just breathed. And listened. And swayed. And hummed. And closed my eyes.
Is calling out your name
Then I said I had to pee.
You always take it further
You were laughing, but you let me go, and I sprinted, and I mean sprinted, back inside and into the bathroom. I remember how after running and sitting down on the toilet, I didn’t really have to pee anymore. Returning, I saw that people had started to make their way to their cars. They were cheering for me and screaming when they saw me running in my shiny, patent red heels. (I am of the belief that every girl should own a pair of shiny, patent red heels.) (Incidentally, I own two.) When I got back, we started to dance again, but neither of us was really into it anymore. Then you stopped a few minutes later and said as much to me in the dark chill February air, under our shimmering witnesses.
Than I ever can