I waited for him to say something, even though I wished he wouldn’t. But he never said anything, finally just playing the same song again. I’d smiled down at my drawing because even though I knew it wasn’t possible, I swear to God he could read my mind and eventually I’d started working on my drawing of him again while listening to him play. I’d always loved music, but hearing it from his mouth warmed my soul in a way that I never knew was possible.

I shake my head from the memory. Maybe there’s another sentence to put in my vows. Although, all these notes are getting a little personal and I’m not certain I’ll dare read them out loud. Panic claws at my throat and I start to open my eyes to go get another drink, but then Micha reaches the intense part of the song and I don’t want to leave the moment. I want to dance, get lost again like the first time I heard him play. So I keep my eyelids closed and sway my hips, shaking my head back and forth, my hair flying everywhere. I’m in heels and it’s a struggle to maintain my balance, but I don’t care even when I stumble a few times. Just like I don’t care that I’m rocking out in a room full of people who are absorbed in beer and trying to find someone to hookup with and who are probably looking at me like I’m a weirdo. I’ll take being a weirdo over not enjoying this moment. I’ve forced myself not to enjoy too many moments in my life. I need more enjoyment. Maybe it’s the alcohol in my system that’s making me think these things or maybe I’m just being my old self. Or perhaps I’m just being me. Whatever it is, I roll with it, dancing to the tempo of the music. Lila laughs at me and when I open my eyes she’s dancing, too.

We continue through the entire song and I keep swaying my hips with my hands above my head, even when the music stops and voices rise around me. Moments later the stereo clicks on and the sound suffocates the chatter. “New Low,” by Middle Class Rut, starts vibrating through the speakers and I know it will only be seconds before I’m no longer dancing solo in a room full of people.

Right on cue, Micha’s long arms wrap around my waist and he guides me back against his body. I know it’s him because of the overpowering scent: his cologne mixed with mint and beer and something intoxicatingly wonderful that belongs only to him. I deeply inhale it in, moving with him as we grind our bodies together to the beat.