Twenty-Seven.
I was absent-mindedly watching the traffic outside while washing the dishes on my night off a few days later, wishing for a better view. I'd settled into the apartment okay. It was small, but neat enough, and clean- and I had enough time on my hands to keep it that way. I didn't spend much time outside of work with Megan and the other people I worked with, and I hadn't really met anyone else. As I stacked the dishes back in their cupboard, it hit me.
The loneliness. The apartment was cosy, with a deep red wall here and there, simply yet nicely furnished, and not overly spacious. Usually, I'd feel at ease in a place like this, because there wasn't enough room to get lonely, yet it wasn't so small I felt trapped. I liked a bit of space to open up the room. But my issue here was that there was nothing to fill the space- not on a physical level, but atmospherically; on an emotional level. I was alone. And no matter how small the apartment, no matter how much stuff was crammed into it, I'd always feel like something was missing. Because it was.
I looked towards the bedroom door, and my eyes fell through it and onto my bedside table. I guess, on some level, I was looking for the comfort of the silver picture frame that had been sitting on the bedside table, wherever I went, for the past six years. But it wasn't there- because I hadn't taken it. With good reason, I reminded myself.
In some strange search for comfort, my hand went to my necklace, and wrapped around the silver pendant. The key was missing, and as I opened the locket I found it empty. I had nothing anymore. Nothing meaningful, anyways. That had sort of been the point of it all, but it still hurt.
I snapped out of my momentary trance, and walked to my bedroom. I found a dress, and dug up a pair of heels. Going out would help, it had to. I mean, if a club couldn't make things better, what could?
&&&.
Lost in the music, I knew I was right as I made my way across the dance floor. I'd never feel lonely in a club. There was just something about these places that got me out of my life, just for a few hours. It worked every time. Megan had told me about this club, quite fittingly named Masquerades. Every couple of nights you'd need some sort of costume, or at least a mask, to get in. The better your costume, in the eyes of the bartenders, the more free drinks you got. The music would be your usual club music, but they'd throw in the occasional song to fit a dance suited to the theme.
I'd known the theme tonight was something Latino, so I let my dark hair out, slightly curled, combined it with a deep red and black dress, black heels, and a beautifully designed mask, courtesy of Megan, who promised she'd come once she finished her shift. I was rather proud of the effort, as I realised I fit in well without looking too much like anyone else. Looking around though, I realised I was damn lucky she had bright red hair. It was hard to tell people apart in masks, in a fairly dark club.
Lost in my trail of thought, I completely missed the music changing, and people disappearing, clearing the centre of the dance floor- and surrounding me, along with a few couples. I was facing a tall male figure, dressed in all black and was dumbstruck as music came on. I was guessing they were looking for a fiery sort of tango, and that seemed to be the general consensus amongst the others. The guy took a step towards me, and I looked up trying to figure out his face beneath the mask. He held out his hand, and it looked inviting. After some motivational cheering from the crowd, I put my hand in his, and let him pull me towards him.
He was a good dancer. His arm wrapped tight around my waist, giving me faith in dips, spins, and whatever else went on. My hand fit perfectly in his, which I momentarily considered quite strange. But I dismissed the thought and focused on my feet, determined to keep up with his quick pace, and challenging eyes. I'd never known I could dance like this. Then again, I was really just following. We didn't speak, but he felt familiar. We didn't dance like strangers either, I realised as applause surrounded me once the song finished.
I faintly heard his voice over the music and the people, who began to flood the floor again. But I followed the slight pull on my hand to the bar, where he bought me a drink, and we finally talked. The conversation was strange, I suppose. He was flirting with me, but not blatantly coming onto me. This was why I loved these places. It was magic. Strangers became friends, but it didn't matter if you never saw them again. They made you happy, but they never got close enough to hurt you.
&&&.
Countless drinks later, we'd gone into the early hours of the morning, and the club started to empty a little bit. We decided we'd had enough.
The night air cut through me like a knife. The colour in my cheeks drained within seconds, and I shivered. We still didn't speak, as he took off the long sleeved cotton shirt, leaving him in only a matching black undershirt, and wrapped it around my shoulders for some warmth. As the cold went a little, his arm stayed around my shoulders. We didn't speak. We both watched the night sky and, occasionally, the traffic. This time I was leading, and he was following, as my feet became independent from my mind and walked us to my apartment. I unlocked the door, then turned to face him to say goodnight.
He leaned down to kiss me and I closed my eyes and kissed back. It struck me again how familiar this felt. How nicely our faces fit together, how nicely his hand ran through my hair as I moved closer to him. How he was just that little bit too tall, so I had to stand on my tippy-toes to kiss him. How we didn't need to speak much all night, but I felt like I'd known him forever. How we didn't need to speak, to say a million words. How he had this sparkle in his eyes.
How he always knew my steps as we walked to the apartment. How we never even asked each other's names, and how it seemed superfluous. How I intuitively knew his next move when we danced.
We moved inside, and I pushed the door closed behind me, and flicked the light switch. I put my keys and purse onto the little table next to the door, and stepped towards him again. His thoughts mirrored mine, as he took me into his arms and kissed me again. He broke the kiss and looked deep into my eyes. He softly ran his hands over my shoulders to let the cotton shirt drop to the ground.
I thought again how strange it was that we didn't need to talk, but we knew what each other were thinking. I didn't know this guy. Did I? I bit my lip, and he cocked his head slightly to the side.
I studied his features, or what I could see. I ran my hands along his chest, underneath his shirt. This didn't feel right, because it felt so right. I kissed him again, and he kissed back; both of us with a newfound hesitation.
A few seconds later, we started taking tentative steps towards my bedroom. It didn't take us long to get there either- in this apartment, nowhere was much of a journey. He softly lay on top of me, and started kissing my neck. I began to feel a fire inside me, that I'd only ever felt with one person. Something inside me lit up, and the world was perfect. Nothing but this moment mattered. He lifted his face, and his eyes fell to heart shaped pendant around my neck. We paused, both lost in thought, and, to an extent, confusion.
He slowly began to shake his head, and laughed a little, like he was surprised.
"Bec." You whispered.
We both took off our masks, and I blinked several times in disbelief.
"Luke."
