Page 5 of The Last Dance

He looks me up and down, a single eyebrow raised. ‘You look the same as you did earlier.’ He laughs.

I don’t. In fact, I’m late because I’ve spent the last hour trying on a half-dozen outfits before I settled on my favorite casual short navy shirt dress. I’ve never even had a second thought about what I wear when Henry and I go out and yet, tonight, I actually started to have a small panic attack when I realized everything in my closet sucks. I even shaved my legs and pulled out the curling iron to put beachy waves in my long hair. God, what am I even expecting to happen tonight?

‘You’re funny. Be thankful that I wore my chucks.’ I point down to my white Converse shoes.

‘Thank you, Chuck.’ He salutes my shoes with a laugh. ‘Let’s go. We have a crowd to wrangle our way through for a spot up front since you got here so late.’

Concerts are our thing. We’ve been to a dozen this year alone. Since high school we’ve easily topped a hundred shows. Some we’d heard of, some we hadn’t. But we’ve never walked away having had anything but an amazing time.

As he opens the door for me, I get a whiff of something citrusy yet clean. Maybe cologne? Did he buy a new one? Because this definitely isn’t what he used to wear.

On his twenty-third birthday, the first birthday he celebrated with Rory after they’d been dating only a few months, she bought him cologne. I bought him tickets to see the Portland Timbers. He couldn’t stop talking about the game, which meant Rory assumed my gift totally outdid hers and she was a tad irritated. I didn’t mean to, I just knew him better than she did at that point. To make it up to her, he continued to buy that cologne she gave him throughout their entire relationship. I know he has almost a full bottle of it still because it’s sitting on his bathroom counter, untouched for so long that a layer of dust is visible on the glass. I never ask about it because I try to avoid obvious sore subjects that could bring him down and I think the cologne might be one.

Why would he buy a new one when he still has the old one? Maybe he’s finally ready to move forward with things?

‘You smell good.’

‘Showers do that.’ He nods towards the inside of the building.

‘Is that a new cologne I’m smelling?’

He lifts his shirt, smelling himself. ‘Oh, yeah. There was a sample in one of your magazines you left at my place and I grabbed a bottle a few days ago.’

I raise an eyebrow. ‘You were reading myCosmos?’

He laughs with a nod, his cheeks turning the tiniest bit pink. ‘I may have flipped through some when I couldn’t sleep one night.’

‘Some? As in multiple?’ I giggle. ‘Did you learn anything?’

‘I learned I liked this cologne.’

I finally take a few steps forward, stopping midway through the door, confused about what exactly is happening here. I feel like we’ve both put in a lot more effort tonight to see one another than we normally do.

‘Are we suddenly trying to impress each other?’

I tried on a half-dozen outfits and he went home from his not so physical office job as a graphic and web designer to shower and put on abrand-newcologne? That’s new.

I can’t count the nights I’ve spent lying in front of his TV in exactly what I wore to work that morning. And he’s done the same in that ratty pair of gray sweats and outdated band T-shirts he wears almost every night, minus any cologne.

He shakes his head with a laugh, still holding the door open like the gentleman he is. ‘We’ve spent almost every single day together for over a decade and all of a sudden you think today I’m making an effort?’ He rolls his eyes.

‘You’re right. I’m probably overthinking it.’

‘Well, I mean, it is what you do.’ He laughs. ‘But we’re late so if you could overthink and walk, that’d be awesome. We’ll never get a good spot if you don’t.’ He once again nods towards the inside of the building, willing me in with only his mind, still holding the door open a few minutes after he opened it to begin with.

I make my way inside, half jogging up the stairs, him right behind me, towards the ballroom where the concert is taking place. We walk into the huge room that was once used as an actual ballroom many decades ago. Ornate faces are carved where the walls meet the rounded ceiling, giant chandeliers hang overhead, and a wall of windows peek through the black drapes closed in front of them. The stage sits kitty-corner to the room on the left, a small balcony on the opposite end, two bars on either end of the room to the right, and people are all around us chattering away, excited for the show to start. It’s not a huge venue, and is standing room only so no assigned seating, which is part of why it’s my favorite place. Since it used to be a ballroom, the wood floors have a bounce to them. When you get a few hundred people in here bouncing with the beat of a song it can almost feel as if you’re dancing on air.

‘Don’t lose me,’ I say as we enter the crowded room.

‘I never do,’ he says as he takes my hand in his. I glance up at him with a sudden hopefully not noticeable gasp as a jolt of electricity races from my hand to my brain. He only smiles. If he feels it too, he’s not letting on that he does. I’m probably totally imagining all the signs I seem to think I’m seeing tonight. He scans the room for a spot. He’s six foot one, so the chances of him seeing a somewhat empty spot in the crowd are way better than mine would be.

‘Come on.’ He leads me through the crowd, dodging people, not letting go of my hand and stopping not far from the front of the stage. I fully expect him to drop my hand when we claim our spots, but he doesn’t.

The room is shoulder-to-shoulder people and getting more crowded by the minute as the show gets closer to starting and people make their way from the bar to the stage. The room is dark but not so dark you can’t see around you. This is how you get separated so easily, by people crowding into a spot they want, and you can no longer find who you came with through the sea of faces and dimly lit room.

‘Sorry.’ A woman behind me shoves her way through, pushing me into Henry. He pulls me against him, an arm now around my waist. I can feel his heart racing against me, or maybe that’s my own? His scent settles over me, clouding my head in a way I’ve never had happen before. In a way I kind of like way too much.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say, finally glancing up at him, now unable to step away because we’re surrounded by people crowding for spots near the stage as the lights dim even more. Well, that and he’s still holding me against him, which has me frozen in my place wondering if whatever this is swirling in my chest is affecting him too.

‘You’re OK,’ he says, staring down at me, his free hand now sliding down the back of my arm.

It’s like time has stopped and it’s all I can do not to hyperventilate. I don’t know what’s happening, but my breathing seems to have shallowed to allow the butterflies racing in my chest to take over. He leans into me, so close I can feel his breath on my neck, his face brushing against mine. Just as I close my eyes in anticipation of what’s about to happen, we’re both shoved. He steps away from me, moving me in front of him to protect me from whatever is going on behind him.

Oh, my God. Did we almost kiss? That seemed like an almost kiss to me.

I stand still as a statue in front of him, trying to slow my breathing without him noticing. The butterflies in my chest die off, swirling slowly as they sink into my stomach with a thud that feels too much like disappointment. The band enters the stage, the crowd cheering around me, and yet I’m frozen in my own world, afraid to look back. There is no way he was about to kiss me. We’ve never had a moment like that in all the years I’ve known him, so I’ve no idea how to process what just happened.

I feel a hand on mine and when I glance down, I can tell it’s him. I can feel him up against me from behind as he squeezes my hand in his. I squeeze back. I don’t know what it means but it’s comforting and yet at the same time a little heartbreaking for reasons I don’t really understand.

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