The Perfect Gift

Ch. 10

After the second slow song ends, their swaying comes to a stop. They continue to stand, rooted to the spot, despite other couples wandering off the dance floor.

Nini doesn't make a move to step away and neither does Ricky.

That, she supposes, is something. Mostly, she's just secretly happy that he doesn't seem to want to move, either.

"The music stopped," she observes bluntly.

A beat.

"I think the band's taking a water break," he murmurs in reply.

She thanks her mouth for ruining the moment. She going to have to staple it shut later as punishment.

"Ah," she manages weakly.

Nini tries not to feel too disappointed when Ricky lifts his cheek away from her hair. She removes her head from his chest. They share a small smile before his hand falls from her back, her arm around his shoulder following suit.

She wonders if she's imagining the squeeze he gives her hand before letting go.

Despite her warm, cozy sweater and the perfectly balanced temperature of the ballroom, she's caught a sudden case of chills as she follows Ricky back to their seats.

Surely, it can't be because she'd been wrapped up in Ricky's tight embrace mere moments ago.

Surely, she isn't already missing the warmth and security of his arms.

Surely, somebody must have let in a draft.

"The party's slowing down," Nini says lightly when she takes a glance around room and notices that the guests have dwindled down significantly.

Ricky's brown eyes narrow thoughtfully and he takes a minute to scan the ballroom. He sees Dan standing a few feet from the door, shaking hands with guests or hugging them good bye. "So it is," he nods.

Despite this being the perfect cue to leave, they continue sitting in their chairs at their table.

Yes, it's late, and yes, she's really rather tired, but no, she doesn't quite want to go home. At least, not yet. Going home meant the end to an awesome day. It meant the end to this date. It meant... well, it meant saying goodbye to Ricky for the night.

She realizes that's a tad ridiculous; she knows it's not like she'll never see him again. They were neighbors! What, with him being a few doors down from her own.

But still, she muses, she just wants to hold on to tonight for a little longer.

Ricky turns to her with tired eyes. He fights back a yawn—she can tell from how his jaw twitches and he almost brings up a hand to his mouth—and she feels her heart drop.

He clearly wants to go home, she realizes as her heart continues its downward direction.

She doesn't let him ask; brings it up, herself, about going home. She uses the tired excuse so he doesn't have to put on a brave face for her.

He blinks. There's a pause and finally, he answers. "Alright," he says slowly. "If you want."

She's clearly more tired than she thought since she almost mistakes his tone for one of reluctance.

"Yeah," she murmurs, trying to sound cheerful. "I'm ready to go home." She sends him a weak smile. "You're tired, too, aren't you? Besides, there's no point in us staying here longer, right?"

He shifts in his seat, pauses longer than before. "No," he says roughly. "I guess not. The party's basically over," he finishes in a low voice. His fingers start drumming on the table as he appears thoughtful. "I'll be honest, though..." he starts, before trailing off. His fingers stop moving and his eyes jerk away from hers. Suddenly, he looks so shy. "I kind of don't want to leave," he coughs quietly.