52// slow dancing

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It'd be awesome if you could listen to Ed Sheeran's Perfect for this.

Also this is probably the last update for today/tonight.

Also this is probably the last update for today/tonight

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SLOW DANCING

    Nova couldn't believe that just minutes ago, while staring at the mirror, she was wishing Graham could be here.

    And now that he actually was here, she didn't know what to make of it. Even her absolute horror at finding out he'd seen her fool around to one of her favourite songs seemed to dissipate in the face of the mere joy she felt at having him just a breath away.

    "You'll be fine, Nova," Graham said in a somewhat reassuring tone, misinterpreting her silence for nervousness when really she was trying to decide exactly what shade of green his godforsaken eyes were.

    Her heart warmed at his use of her first name; when he'd addressed her as Hart just moments ago, she'd felt an unexpected wave of disappointment. Maybe because using each other's surnames was somewhat of a norm for the both of them and on the night of his birthday, they'd sort of moved past that during their little talk in his kitchen.

    Nova liked to believe they'd had a moment there — a sort of intimacy they'd established when they'd talked about commitments and whatnot.

    "I'm not going to become a better dancer overnight, you know," she muttered in response.

    "No..." He said slowly, looking as if he was seriously contemplating something. "But I can. Dance, I mean."

    Well, this was a nice surprise. "Really?"

    "Yeah," a corner of his mouth quirked up in a crooked smile. "I like to think I'm pretty good at it." And then he was standing up from the stool, making his way towards Nova, stopping just inches away with his hand outstretched. "Dance with me," he breathed.

    The words wrapped themselves around Nova's neck like a leash, tugging her forward without her control, until her chest was merely centimetres away from his, her firm yet soft hand finding a home in his calloused one.

    "Why?" Her voice was a whisper — why was she whispering? And why was she questioning him when she'd already taken his hand for the dance? Where was her head?

    "Loosen you up," his voice dropped to a low volume too, "make you more at ease with the whole flow of dancing. Best I can do right now."

    She nodded, words abandoning her.

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