"Because," he said, rubbing his hands across her back. "Your dance card is full. For all eternity."
Daniel held her right hand in his, wrapped her left around his shoulder, and started a slow two-step in the sand. They could still hear the music from the party, but from this side of the rock it felt like a private concert. Luce closed her eyes and melted against his chest, nding the place where her head t into his shoulder like a puzzle piece.
"No, this isn't quite right," Daniel said after a moment. He pointed down at her feet. She noticed he was barefoot. "Take o your shoes," he said, "and I'll show you how angels dance."
Luce slipped o her black ats and tossed them aside on the beach. The sand between her toes was soft and cool. When Daniel pulled her close, her toes overlapped with his and she almost lost her balance, but his arms held her steady. When she looked down, her feet were on top of his. And when she looked up: the sight she yearned for night and day. Daniel unfurling his silver-white wings.
They lled her plane of vision, stretching twenty feet into the sky. Broad and beautiful, glowing in the night, they must have been the most glorious wings in all of Heaven. Underneath her own feet, Luce felt Daniel's lift just barely o the ground. His wings beat lightly, almost like a heartbeat, holding both of them inches above the beach.
"Ready?" he asked.
Ready for what, she didn't know. It didn't matter.
Now they were moving backward in the air, as smoothly as gure skaters moved on ice. Daniel glided out over the water, holding her in his arms. Luce gasped as the rst frothy wave skimmed their toes. Daniel laughed and lifted them a little higher in the sky. He dipped her backward. He spun them both around in circles. They were dancing. On the ocean.
The moon was like a spotlight, shining down on only them. Luce was laughing from sheer joy, laughing so much that Daniel started laughing too. She'd never felt lighter.
"Thank you," she whispered.
His answer was a kiss. He kissed her softly at rst. On her forehead, then on her nose, then nally found his way to her lips.
She kissed him back deeply and hungrily and a bit desperately, throwing her whole body into it. This was how she came home to Daniel, how she touched that easy love they'd shared for so long. For a moment, the whole world went quiet; then Luce came up gasping for air. She hadn't even noticed they were back on the beach.
His hand cupped the back of her head, the ski cap she had tugged down over her ears. The cap concealing her bleached-blond hair. He pulled it o and a blast of ocean breeze hit her head. "What did you do to your hair?"
His voice was soft, but somehow it sounded like an accusation. Maybe it was because the song had ended, and the dance and the kiss had too, and now they were just two people standing on a beach. Daniel's wings were arched back behind his shoulders, still visible but out of reach.
"Who cares about my hair?" All she cared about was holding him. Wasn't that all he should care about too?
Luce reached to take back the ski cap. Her bare blond head felt too exposed, like a glowing red ag warning Daniel that she might be falling apart. As soon as she started to turn away, Daniel put his arms around her.
"Hey," he said, pulling her close again. "I'm sorry."
She exhaled, drew into him, and let his touch wash over her. She tipped her head up to meet his eyes.
"Is it safe now?" she asked, wanting Daniel to be the one to bring up the truce. Could they nally be together? But the worn look in his eyes gave her the answer before he opened his mouth.
"I shouldn't be here, but I worry about you." He held her at arm's length. "And from the looks of things, I'm right to worry." He ngered a lock of her hair. "I don't understand why you did this, Luce. It isn't you."
She pushed him away. It had always bothered her when people said that. "Well, I'm the one who dyed it, Daniel. So, technically, it is me. Maybe not the `me' you want me to be--"
"That's not fair. I don't want you to be anyone other than who you are."