Carter Michael Greene
Dancing

I don’t know if I was meant to be loved. I find it sad to believe in fate, because I don’t like the idea that someone planned out all that happened to me, but at least they still let me dance.

We met while dancing, each of us alone and to our own music. She strode over and fixed her gaze on me, as we danced. She danced with her arms, while her feet tapped out the rhythm. I danced sliding my legs across the floor and holding my arms to my chest. I would trace little triangles on the floor with my movements, spinning in circles over and over, and whenever I could see her eyes I gave her the coy smile I thought she would like. She put her arm on my shoulder and we danced something new.

Now we dance to the same music, I don’t think we can help it anymore. Whenever I find any new music I think is mine, I’ll discover she’s already danced to it a thousand times. She dances with her legs now too, I don’t know if I taught her or if someone else did but it doesn't really matter. She’ll run her hands across my back and as I stare into her chocolate eyes she’ll tell me that ‘I’m the only one for her.’ and I’ll know she’s lying but I don’t care because if I don’t think about it hard enough I’ll believe her. Then she kisses me and puts her hands on my hips, and moves them lower, until I move them away again, and again, and again, until finally I give her what she wants, and we stop dancing.

We’ll wake up at her place. I want her to come to mine, but I think she knows someone who lives near there. I always wake up first. I’ll wake with a jolt and flap my arm trying to make sure she’s still there, and she always is. I’ll close my eyes again and listen to her breathe until the sun reaches her nose, and she wakes up too. Even though I can’t see her I know she stares at me, like a child fidgeting with magnets, trying to understand something they already know. Eventually she’ll wrap her arm around my stomach, cradle my head and kiss my ear. I open my eyes and put my hand atop hers. She’ll say something about enjoying my company as I search the room for the clock. I know where it is, but searching means I won’t have to look at her. I get up, get dressed and leave before breakfast, and two or three days later she’ll text me asking if I want to go dancing.