It’s a melody that will always remind me of dancing close to him, our bodies pressed up against each other as we swayed to the erotic beats in the club what seems like a lifetime ago.
“I have a confession to make,” Dylan says, breaking me out of my thoughts. “There’s no way I would have taken advantage of you like that. Not when I know your heart belongs to someone else. I just wanted to make sure HE WASN’T GOING TO PUSSY OUT ON THIS WHOLE THING TONIGHT,” he explains, shouting the last part of that statement so his voice would carry through the bar.
Dylan winks at me and I watch him in bewilderment as he walks to the side door and pushes it open, disappearing into the parking lot.
After the door slams closed, I slowly slide down off of the stage and stand still right in front of it, barely breathing, feeling every emotion this song brings out of me as the beat of the drums and the soulful voice belts out the hypnotic words. As the man sings about words being like knives and cutting you open, Brady walks out of the shadows with his hands in the front pocket of his jeans like something out of a dream. His hair has gotten a little longer, and his face looks tired and sad, but otherwise, he’s exactly as I remember him: tall and commanding as he strolls towards me, the long-sleeved T-shirt he wears molded to his sculpted chest and arms. I can’t believe it’s only been a few months since I last touched him. As he closes the distance between us and the subtle, masculine scent of him surrounds me, my mouth waters and it suddenly feels like years since I was this close to him.
The music continues to play and the words flow through me as he stops directly in front of me. He doesn’t smile, he just stares. He searches every inch of my face like he forgot what it looks like and he’s busy memorizing every feature. His eyes pause when they get to my lips and I nervously wet them with my tongue. He lets out a shuddering breath and pulls his hands out of his front pockets, holding one out in front of me, palm up.
“Dance with me.”
It’s a statement, not a question, and I don’t even hesitate before sliding my hand into his and letting him pull me against him. His body is just as I remember it: rock hard in certain spots and soft and warm in others. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer and within in seconds of being enveloped in his arms, I feel like I’m safe. I feel like I’m home.
My nose and lips are right against the skin of his neck, and I can’t help but breathe him in. I’ve missed this so much. I’ve missed the clean smell of his skin and the strength of his arms. We aren’t really dancing, more like gently rocking to the music, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything but the fact that he’s here with me right now. It’s easy to forget about all of the bad memories when the one shining light in your life is back and brighter than ever. It’s easy to forgive the hurts and disappointments when the only thing you’ve ached for is standing right there in front of you.
Brady pulls his head back and looks down at me, giving me that half smile that I love so much, and I stare at the dimple on his cheek as we continue to rock back and forth together. I force myself out of the daze I’ve been in since I heard the first notes of this song echo through the room and finally find my voice.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” I whisper softly.
“I can’t believe you sang your own songs tonight,” he replies back, the smooth timbre of his voice forcing shivers down my spine. “They were amazing. You’re amazing.”
I look away from him for a second in embarrassment, not because he heard all of those songs, but because he heard the song. The last song. As much as I dreamed about him hearing it, it’s an overwhelming feeling to know that it actually happened.
“It was about you,” I admit softly to him when I look back into his eyes, not specifying which song I’m referring to but seeing from the look on his face that he knows.
“Oh