A Night in a Year: 13. Closer

[jacquelineb]

“No,” he continues. “Not plastic. Why are you in here though? How many interesting people could really be here?”

“You are.”

He pushes his drink forward, leans in himself, hunching. It closes him in, draws her to him, creates a small circle for just the two of them. She too enters it, shifting her arms and shoulders closer. His eyes drift downwards to her chest, and don’t move when he says -

“Yes, I am. And so are you.”

She has never been able to raise an eyebrow, but she hopes her grin and the shift of her forehead will mimic that expression enough.

“Then we are both lucky.”

He takes his glass up, and his lips move on the rim of glass, slippery and folding. She swallows as she watches him gulp it down, eye both his mouth and the jerking of his Adam’s apple. She wants to reach out and stroke his exposed throat with her nail.

He puts the drink down, and looks casual again. “That assuming my friends don’t actually appear,” he says.

He’s trying to shift away, his part in the dance. But his hands has landed closer to her. She trails her fingers down her bare arm. “Are they… understanding friends?”

“Well… sometimes. Of course, I could always tell them that I arrived, and they weren’t there, and I got bored of waiting, and so left…”

She senses his fingers curling, and moving forward again.

Her other hand has been on her lap, and now she places it on the table, lightly, near her elbow. “That would be one way of doing it. But maybe before that—”

“What?”

“Your name?”

“Oh, who needs names?”

And she feels a light, electric brush over her knuckle. Her eyes shoot down to the table to find his index finger tracing it in a circle.

-
Next: 14. Tracing Finger

Image found on flickr, by pokpok, used under the Creative Commons License.

Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.