20 | Fall into him
1009 Words
Stella
He asked me to dance.
And I said yes.
The words had barely left my lips before his fingers wrapped gently around mine. Not in a forceful way. Not even confident, really. Just soft. Tentative. Like he was afraid I’d change my mind and vanish back into the crowd, and I can't blame him. Running away is something I do, especially if it's from him.
He led me toward the dance floor, and the chaos of the room blurred around the edges. The string lights twinkled above us, draped like constellations over aged wooden beams. Music floated through the air, the kind of melody that sinks into your skin and stays there.
It felt like the rest of the barn melted away. I didn’t notice the people, the chatter, the clinking of glasses, or laughter. All I saw was Nick. The warmth of his hand in mine, the way his eyes kept flicking toward me, like he needed to make sure I was still there.
The moment he pulled me close, something in my chest tightened. My hand landed on his shoulder, and his found its place at my waist like it had always belonged there. We moved in time to the music, slow and steady, like we were dancing back in time.
“You used to love this song,” he murmured, his voice low beside my ear.
“I still do,” I whispered back, and it was the truth.
We didn’t speak again for a while. Just swayed, caught in the soft rhythm and the echoes of everything we hadn’t said in years. The air between us was thick with memory. His breath stirred the strands of hair near my temple. His thumb grazed the fabric of my dress in small, absent circles, like he was grounding himself.
I let my cheek rest lightly against his chest, and for a moment, I forgot. Forgot why I shouldn’t be here. Forgot why this should feel wrong. Because it didn’t, it felt like breathing after holding it in for too long.
The scent of cedar and something citrusy clung to him, familiar and devastating. He smelled like the boy I used to know. The boy who made me laugh until I cried. The boy who broke my heart without even realizing it.
“You look happy,” he said again, like he’d been thinking about it.
“I am,” I said. “Tonight, I am.”
His silence lingered like a question he didn’t ask.
When I finally looked up at him, his eyes met mine with that same intensity that always made my stomach twist like he saw me too well. Like he saw every c***k.
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
He hesitated. I could see him weighing the risk of honesty, or maybe he was just shocked that I was speaking to him.
“That I never should’ve let you go,” he said quietly.
It hit me like a blow to the chest. My breath caught. My feet faltered slightly, but he held me steady.
“Nick…”
“I know,” he said quickly. “I know I don’t get to say that.”
He trailed off, frustration etching into the lines of his face. “It’s being here with you again. It’s messing with my head. I keep thinking about what we could’ve been if I hadn’t done... whatever I did to f**k things up.”
“You don’t get to do that,” I interrupted, sharper than I meant to. The ache in my voice surprised even me.
He flinched, but nodded. “I know.”
We kept dancing. But it wasn’t the same. The silence now buzzed with tension, thick and heavy. I want to pull away and run again, I do, but my feet won't move. They're stuck in place, fighting me.
“I didn’t come here for this,” I said finally.
He looked at me. “What did you come here for?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it again. I didn’t know. Or maybe I did, and I wasn’t ready to say it out loud.
“I came to support my friend,” I said instead.
He didn’t press. He just nodded slowly.
The song ended, but we stayed still. Inches apart. Neither of us is ready to be the first to move.
“Do you want me to leave you alone?” he asked.
“No.”
He blinked and pulled back slightly, surprised. “No?”
“But I don’t want to go backwards either,” I added quickly.
“I don’t either,” he said, his voice quiet. “I want… I want to find a way forward, even if it’s just talking to you again. Being near you. It doesn’t have to mean anything else.”
None of this drama between us is fair to our best friends, so if being around him is what I have to do, this weekend has shown me that I have had enough time to get comfortable with that. Being around him isn't the end of the world, but when he looks at me like I am his entire world, I can't handle it.
The next song started, more upbeat, and someone bumped into us with a laugh and a swirl of tulle. The moment broke.
I stepped back, putting space between us. I could feel the weight of his gaze as I turned toward the bar, like he wanted to say more but didn’t know how. I left without saying anything.
My heart was racing. My skin still tingled where his hands had been. I could feel the ghost of his touch like it had been burned into me.
He didn’t follow.
Back at the bar, I downed the rest of my champagne in one go, welcoming the sting. I didn’t look back.
But I felt it.
His eyes.
Still on me.
And all I could think about was how easy it had been to fall into him again.
Too easy.
- Writer
