“‘Course it does. It’s what I use to play tunes when I’m working on cars.” He used his toe to flick a switch on the back and the jukebox came to life, bathing us in orange, red and yellow lights. Danny dug in his pocket and passed me a quarter.

I flicked through the printed tracklists. I was self-conscious about my lousy taste in music: it was one of the many things people had picked me apart for in college. Eventually, I gave up trying to be cool and picked an old rock track I liked. I watched, transfixed, as the mechanism shuffled through the stack of records and swung one over to the turntable.

“Oh, I love this one,” said Danny, sounding surprised.

“Really?”

He nodded, a big, honest grin spreading across his face as he hummed along. I giggled, not something I do very often. He was always so cool but, just then, he looked unguarded, almost goofy. Like he didn’t care what anyone thought of him. Maybe that was part of being cool?

Then he offered me his hand.

Dance? Memories from college unfurled in my mind, hotly humiliating: being asked to dance by some guy, only to find out later that his buddies had dared him to ask the dorky girl. Those moments had slashed insecurities into my mind and then what happened in Vegas had opened those narrow cuts into yawning canyons. Danny was too cool, too gorgeous, he couldn’t actually want to—

But then I looked up into his eyes. I’d never known that green could be so warm.

“I don’t really know how to dance,” I mumbled.

His voice was gentle. “C’mon. You’ll be fine.”

I gave him my hand. As soon as his fingers closed around mine, it was as if we’d completed a circuit, all the electrons in my body racing down my arm and into him, and then he took my other hand and all of his electrons rushed into me, forceful and male, scattering mine. The two sets twisted together, forming something new that surged around and around our loop, leaving me breathless. I saw his chest fill as he slowly inhaled and his grip tightened. He feels it too.

He began to rock and sway to the beat and I shuffled and tried to follow, stiff-limbed and awkward. He gently pulled me closer and moved one hand to my waist, his palm throbbing warmth through my t-shirt, and then we were moving together, rocking and spinning. I could feel myself breathing faster, getting drunk on the vanilla and spice scent of him, the feel of his hands on me. We stepped back, stepped forward… My foot came down on his toe but he just laughed. Then he lifted my hand and twirled me around, and I stumbled and stepped sideways onto his other foot.