a short story written by remi feldman

His lips are soft against mine. I am not at all surprised by his gentleness, but I am blown away at how suddenly my entire understanding for a person can change. This kiss was supposed to be a small thing, a tool to get a random, creepy guy from asking too many questions. But, to my horror, his kiss manages to silence the thumping bass and still the flashing lights.

            He pulls away and whispers in my ear, “he’s gone now”, and I nod, praying he can’t see the heat rising to my cheeks. We both came here to find someone to take our minds off lovers from our past, but I cannot imagine anyone else but him now. A pit in my stomach forms, born of butterflies and panic.

He pulls me back to the dance floor and out of my crisis. His body matches the beat perfectly. The purple and red lights switching highlight his beauty and while lost in whatever pop song is playing, I cannot help but stare. I pretend that I am also taken away by the beat, but I can do nothing but think of what a mistake it would be to kiss him again. This dancefloor shows nothing but a future together, and my only defense is to try and dance the images out of my mind.

The night ends, his buzz is wearing off, and there is no more music to distract us from the growing tension. A heavy silence is an extra passenger in the Uber home. I try and make small talk with the driver, but I have no clue at what the driver is saying because I can only focus on the heat radiating from the body buckled in next to mine.

I try not look obvious studying his pale hands so close to mine; His painted nails acting as a beacon for my line of sight. His fingers tap along to “Head Over Feet” by Alanis Morissette, his pinky twirling closer to mine.

            And suddenly, that dancing pinky finger is locked around my own. I can feel the clamminess of his hands on my pinky and his blue eyes searing into the side of my head. I do nothing, afraid that if I move, he will realize what he is doing and stop. But he wraps his entire hand around mine, “please, look at me,” a brief squeeze and a pause happens before he whispers, “please”. I look up, careful to avoid his eyes. I have one last Hail Mary attempt before the moment is gone. Before he can say anything, I kiss him. I wait for him to pull away, but he doesn’t. He kisses me back, and I know that this feeling between us is nothing short of fate.