The Dancefloor

Sometimes hours can happen in a second, but if you aren't careful you lose them just as quickly.

I know what I am doing as I follow him out onto the dance floor.  It isn’t like we’ve never been here before.  It brings back memories of another time we were here, younger and newer in our friendship.  We danced together, awkwardly and laughing at first, then quieter...more intense.  I don't even remember how we wound up paired together on the floor that night.

The next day I convinced myself of all the reasons why I should push those feeling very deep down;  we had both been drinking, I am always so loud and he isn't, He has the same name as an ex-boyfriend, he is a friend, round and round.  I'm great with justifications, so it worked.

 We went back like nothing ever happened.  I helped him with his girl troubles because I make an excellent wingman and I was genuinely happy for him when you found someone. I liked being the person he could talk to, I love being his friend.  Then it all fell apart for him and he didn’t have her anymore.  His heart was broken and I lived hundreds of miles away at that point. I came to visit and I listened, I kept wishing I lived closer because he sucks at texting and I worried about him living alone because I know how easy it is to just wallow in the darkness.  But, here we are, another year past, back on that same dance floor moving slowly.  I know how we wound up paired together tonight. I invited him because I wanted to see him, I keep following him around because I like being near him. I brush off a few guys attempts at conversation because they are not why I am here. Because he is my friend he tells me it is fine to talk to them if I want, but I tell him I don't want to.

Eventually, we wind up near the periphery of the dance floor. I don't remember the song that is playing, but since it is a 90s night I can only assume it is something wonderfully cheesy. He is standing on the raised edge so he stands above me more than he usually does and when he steps down to hear me there is barely any space between us. We’ve both been drinking again and as we sway to the music he looks me in the eyes.  It feels a little like everything slows down.  We had just been talking to a friend of ours, I think he walked away, I honestly don’t remember.  I’m not sure who leans in first, though I am willing to be it is me.  When he kisses me it is kinder than I imagined it would be.  Like he actually sees me when he kisses me.  It sounds silly, but that doesn't happen as often as you might think. I feel the heat rise in my face and I’m sure it is turning red.  When he pulls away I can barely look at him, all of the sudden I am shy and self-conscious  I smile into his shirt and he asks me if I’m ok. He is warm and smells like something I can't quite place, but it is comforting.  I just say yes, laughing, and kiss him again.  We stay there for a while, alone in a crowd of people, before being interrupted by my phone.  Our friend is outside, looking for us, it is time to go.  Just like that, the moment is broken, gone. I want to hold him back for just a moment, tell him that this isn't a drunken mistake. Honestly, I just want him to kiss me again.  

The doubt creeps in.  I’m probably attaching more meaning than he intended.  We’ve been friends for five years after all and this is the first time anything like this has happened.  He is probably still a little hung up on his ex and we were both a little drunk.  I know why I kissed him, but I am no longer sure why he kissed me.  So rather than ask him when I see him the next day, I act like nothing has changed.  I suppose nothing really has changed.  I still live hundreds of miles away and he is still one of my favorite people.  I know that if I asked him about it and he told me it meant nothing it would hurt so much more than never knowing either way so I will just stay quiet, a rare feat for me, and be happy I got to see him.  I think that makes me a coward, but he'll never know.