Star
D ancing with Barrow feels different than I expected. I had imagined it would feel like every other time I had to perform in front of people—awkward, forced, and full of nerves. But with Barrow, it feels like a simple, natural thing. Like we’re floating in time, and nothing else matters except the way our bodies move together.
As the song winds down, Barrow’s hand slips from my back to my hand, and he gives me a small, sincere smile.
“Thank you,” he says quietly. “For trusting me enough to come here tonight.”
I blink, caught off guard by the quiet sincerity in his voice. The words hit me harder than I expect, like a gentle wave breaking over the walls I’ve built.
“For what?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
“For being here,” he repeats. “For giving me the chance.”
His words settle over me, wrapping around me like a blanket, and I don’t know how to respond. But I don’t have to. I just nod, feeling the weight of everything we’ve shared so far in the quiet simplicity of this moment.
Maybe — just maybe — this is the start of something good. Something real.
A new song begins, but Barrow doesn’t begin to move us to the music once more. Instead, he gives me a half smile. “Want to get out of here? I’ve done my duty as school staff, and I’d rather spend the rest of my night doing something else.”
It’s like he’s tossed a bucket of water on the flames that have been kindling with in me. “Oh, I say, voice flat, trying to hide my disappointment. I’d been inventing everything — I’m nothing more to Barrow than a convenient date for an inconveniently mandatory work event. “What’s that?”
But he’s still smiling. “I’d rather spend the rest of my night getting to know you, .”
And just like that, the flames are back, crackling higher than ever, setting my cheeks alight.
“What do you say?” he continues, a flicker of uncertainty dancing in his eyes.
I squeeze his hands in mine. “There’s nothing I want more,” I say, grinning once more.