Post Five: My Body Wants To Lead

Elli

He was being completely sweet, and not at all rapey. I didn't know if he just felt bad for me, or if he was actually interested. Though I was trying very hard not to be cynical. The pub he took me to was surprisingly empty, I imagine from the festival. We sat at the bar, and he ordered us two beers, nothing fancy. The bartender immediately asked for my ID I was already had it in hand, reading to pass it to him.

He gave it a long look before finally handing it back to me.

“So you are legal,” Morgan Clery smirked.

“Worried, were you?” I countered.

“I...well...” before he could finish his sentence, I handed him my ID so he could check it over. He looked at it for a long while, even longer than the bartender.

“What is it?” I asked. He carefully leaned into me, sliding my ID into my hand.

“Is this a fake?” He whispered.

“What!?” I nearly yelled, then composed myself, “no, of course not. Why?”

“It says your 26...”

“I am.”

“You are?”

“I am.”

“Oh...”

He seemed to need time to mull it over. I didn't understand why he was being so judgey, he was 30! What did it matter if I was 26? Was it really that hard to believe?

An awkward silence was beginning to take hold of us, so I chugged half my drink, hoping it would help. I felt weird. Completely unsure of what to say next.

Then, of course, there were my feelings of stupidity. I had told him two completely ridiculous, and personal, stories about myself. I had given way too much for having just met him. He was going to think I was a nutter for sure.

Then he surprised me by also downing a large portion of his drink.

Don't. Be. Cynical.

He was hanging out with you, wasn't he? Why would he do that if he wasn't interested? In any aspect of the word.

“So you are here working on that film, right? How's that going?” I was grasping for straws.

“I can't really...” He began, shaking his head a bit.

“Right, yeah, I know. You can't talk about it,” I interrupted, shuddering at my mistake, “but you were dragged to the festival by...someone? I mean, that's why you were there?”

“Yeah, a girl working on crew actually...I think, I mean, I'm pretty sure she wanted it to be a date.”

“Oooh.”

“It wasn't,” he corrected, “it was clear she wanted it to be, though. That's why I was kind of looking for an out I suppose. Although...” He paused, widening his eyes a bit. I cocked my head at him, trying to understand his expression.

“What is it?”

“Nothing...I just, I think I kind of just left her there,” he laughed, “I mean, I didn't tell her where I was going. I just left.”

“You're horrible!” I joked, playfully nudging him. He turned his full focus on me.

“Horrible,” he repeated, grinning.

A song came on that I immediately recognized, one of my favourite bands. That incomparable indie rock. With the pleasure of being a slow and fast song all at once.

“I love this song,” I told him.

“Me too, it's a great song,” he agreed.

“Great band, too.”

“Amazing band.”

“Amazing.”

We sat for a second staring at each other, neither of us really saying much. I studied his face, his bone structure was immaculate. So well placed, so narrow. His full lips letting out a slight smirk. I wanted to reach out and touch him. There was something between us, I could feel it. Feel the butterflies, the warmth coursing through me. It was unreal.

Suddenly he stood up, standing adjacent to where I sat.

“I'm sorry, I'm being rude. Would you like to dance?” He asked, putting his hand out.

I was stunned, to say the least. I looked at his hand, up to his face, and then back to his hand. I took my glance to around empty pub, a few men were sitting in the booth in the corner. Blissfully unaware of the pivotal moments taking place a few feet away from them. I was taking too long to say something. He was going to get embarrassed if I didn't speak up soon.

“Yes please,” I answered, finally taking his hand. He held it up, in a slow dancer's pose. Then hooked his other arm around my waist, pulling me into him. He was so tall, I opted for holding my other arm under his armpit, instead of trying to reach for over his shoulder. With us being so close, it was impossible for me to crane my neck up to look at him. So I gingerly rested my head on his chest.

We began to turn clockwise, half way, and then back counter clockwise, half way.

Repeat.

I was struggling to follow him, I had always had issues following dance partners. I had this compelling notion to lead, that I just couldn't quell. It was making me step on his feet every time we switched directions.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are an awkward dancer,” he stifled a laugh. I felt him lean his chin against the top of my head. My heart beat quickened, even though I begged it not to.

“Yes, actually, all the time. My body wants to lead, I don't know why.”

“Well, maybe we should oblige it, and just pretend I'm still leading,” he offered.

We didn't change positions, he just began following my moves. It was much easier for me, but I could feel the tension in his body. Rejecting my steps. He hit my foot, but I could barely feel it with my combat boots on.

“It seems neither of us were born to follow,” I smiled, hoping he could feel it in my voice.

“Maybe we should just stand in one place? I don't think the men in the corner will mind our terrible dance moves.”

“That's fine with me.”

So we stood in one place. No turning. Our bodies pressed against each other, swaying back and forth. Neither of us leading. The song lingered on. We didn't speak.

I didn't want it to end.

#polyamorous #mybodywantstolead #romance #comedy #drama #partone #postfive #elli