Nightlife ✓

22 | sway

A / N :

What is your favourite genre to read/write?

I like writing contemporary YA and NA, and currently I'm super into reading urban fantasy. I'm tunnelling through all of Ilona Andrews' works - they are a powerhouse.

Enjoy <3

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I TOOK BACK WHAT I said about balls.

That moment when I thought dresses and venues were not enough to excite girls. I was wrong.

For me, however, it wasn't the dress or the venue. It was the man. Maybe that made me irrational or weak. Fawning. Falling. But when Quen paused right underneath a hanging star-shaped lamp—thousands of pinpoints of light cast over his face—I thought, if I had to abandon my balance and reshuffle my emotional priorities to have him in my life, so be it.

Quen placed his hand on my waist and drew our intertwined hands up to chest height. We swayed along to the music, our weight oscillating between our feet. At some point during my childhood ballet career, I'd learnt the basics of ballroom. This was so wrong, and yet my brain was completely satisfied at his technique.

So be it.

It wasn't even that I knew Quen would turn out to be worth it.

In fact, I was pretty sure he wouldn't. He had never wanted me to see his badminton games or marching band rehearsals. He cancelled on dates and teased me like I was any one of his guy friends. We only talked about studying. I had less and less confidence to confess by the day. He would never know. We would drift apart after graduation and likely never meet again.

That was okay. Whether something was worth it to me didn't depend on its payoff. My relationships weren't transactional. I wouldn't regard Quen positively so long as he didn't break my heart—he could do all that, he could break my heart, whilst completely unaware, and I would still be better for having known how this felt.

Because I'd never felt this way before.

We'd never hugged or kissed or said anything remotely flirtatious to each other and already he'd carved a larger hole in my heart than any of my previous boyfriends. It was a good type of pain. I didn't know how else to describe it. Just that it kept me up at night and warmed me through the days.

Quen's fingers brushed over the sliver of bare skin on my back as we danced. Each time, it sent tingles shooting down my spine; I almost wished he would hold me more tightly just so the maddeningly gentle caresses stopped. The absence of hard contact drove me crazy.

Except I knew he wouldn't do something like that. Quen was trying to dance the traditional way and staying above the waistline and refraining from touching me securely because he was a gentleman.

"You look—" Quen began. Then he sighed and chuckled derisively. "—never mind. You already know. It'll just give you a big head."

I smiled at his characteristically roundabout way of complimenting me, noting the tightening of his fingers around mine. "You, too. But you feel free to get a big head."

It was almost like Quen didn't believe me, the way he dipped his head and laughed quietly. "Thanks. I will."

He shook his head when he chuckled like that. The locks of inky black hair that fell over his head didn't shake like they usually did when he laughed. I realised that he'd used gel or wax to stiffen them tonight. As much as I thought Quen looked like the most handsome man in the room with his fancy suit, somehow I found myself wishing for his usual t-shirt, jeans and unstyled hair.