If I Could Dance With You Again

IICDWYA: 44

Chapter 44 

That simple confession—earnest and a touch bashful—set off another ripple of laughter, softening the mood further. The old awkwardness seemed impossibly distant now, eclipsed by the comfort they'd found in each other's company, and by the group's gentle encouragement.

But beneath the easy laughter, Aaliyah felt an icy thread slip through her chest. The teasing, the glances, the sudden spotlight—they all pooled into a momentary surge of panic. Was it that obvious? Had she let something slip, a look held too long, a smile too soft, some secret signal that the others might piece together? For a breathless instant, her mind raced: memories flickered of hushed conversations and stolen glances, of moments when the world shrank to only two, disguised beneath camaraderie.

She schooled her features, willing her cheeks not to betray her with a flush, her mind scrambling for the composure she'd mastered so well. If anyone had noticed, there was no sign—just the usual gentle ribbing, the affectionate jabs. Still, the fear lingered, her pulse quickening, every giggle in the room transformed into a possible confirmation of their secret.

Desperate to mask her unease, Aaliyah joined in the laughter, but she could feel her hands trembling lightly in her lap, hidden beneath the table. She avoided Soonyoung's gaze, afraid that a single glance might give her away. For a moment, she wished for the armor of her old detachment, uncertain if she'd slipped up or if it was all just her nerves playing tricks.

And in that fragile moment, Aaliyah breathed in, willing her pulse to slow, and let the warmth of shared company help steady her trembling heart.

For a few heartbeats, Aaliyah lingered on the edge of her nerves, swallowing down the tremor that threatened to betray her steadiness. Drawing a long, surreptitious breath, she summoned the composure she'd honed over years—a gentle, invisible armor sliding into place. Shoulders relaxed, lips curved in a practiced smile, and she looked up, letting her gaze sweep the room with a quiet bravado. One by one, the familiar faces around the table seemed to blur the edges of her anxiety, their laughter steadying her until she almost believed in her own calm.

Only then, anchored by the shared warmth, did Aaliyah allow herself to truly rejoin the present, her worries tucked discreetly away.

"Maybe we did," Aaliyah said at last, her voice softer than she intended, but steady with a newfound courage as she rejoined the conversation. The words hung in the air, simple yet irrevocable, and for a heartbeat the room seemed to quiet ever so slightly, as if acknowledging something delicate had just been entrusted to it.

The effect on Soonyoung was immediate and palpable; he went very still, as if the world had suddenly shifted beneath his feet. His laughter faded into silence, eyes widening in surprise, caught somewhere between delight and disbelief. For a moment, no one moved, holding the space with a hush that felt both precarious and full of promise.

Then, slowly, a smile—shy, genuine—spread across Soonyoung's face. It was a look of someone realizing they'd just been handed a secret dream made real, and for all the teasing, all the efforts to hide, there was nowhere left for their feelings to retreat. Around the table, their friends exchanged knowing glances, the air shimmering with laughter and something sweeter, quieter, settling between Aaliyah and Soonyoung.

The day slipped past in a blur, laughter and conversation weaving throughout, but as the afternoon waned, Aaliyah was quietly relieved to find the earlier spotlight on her and Soonyoung had faded into the background. The group's attention drifted to other things—upcoming plans, shared jokes, the mundane magic of old friends simply enjoying each other's company.

As the sun rose up more in the sky, Aaliyah slipped out her phone and sent a quick message to Ruby: Can you pick me up? Moments later, her phone vibrated. An incoming call flashed across the screen—Ruby.

"I'm outside," came the familiar voice, bright and efficient.

Aaliyah tucked away her nerves, rising from her seat. "Hey, I am sorry to cut the bond short, but my friend's here to pick me up. I have a planned lunch date," she said, the words a gentle interruption to the lingering warmth around the table. Chairs scraped as the others moved to stand, insisting on walking her to the front—one last wave, one more joke, a cluster of affection to see her off.

As they stepped outside, the cool air brushed her cheeks and city lights flickered to life. There, parked at the curb, was Ruby—unmistakable in her confidence, leaning with casual grace against a gleaming red Bugatti Veyron. The car's polished curves caught the glow of the setting sun, drawing more than a few admiring glances from passersby.

Aaliyah laughed, shaking her head in mock dismay at Ruby's flair for the dramatic. The group let out a collective, awestruck sound, and someone whistled low. "You didn't say your friend was this cool," one of them teased, while another snapped a quick photo, grinning.

Ruby waved, a crooked smile lighting her features. "Ready when you are!"

There was a chorus of goodbyes, arms thrown around shoulders, promises to text soon. For a fleeting moment, Aaliyah allowed herself to bask in the affection, in the feeling that things might, after all, be alright.

With one last look at Soonyoung—his smile lingering, eyes soft—she slid into the passenger seat, the Veyron's door closing with a gentle click. As they pulled away from the curb, the café faded, and Aaliyah felt the tension of the day ease, replaced by the anticipation of whatever came next.

Ruby didn't ask where Aaliyah wanted to go. She simply drove, letting the quiet between them fill with familiar trust. When they reached Ruby's house, it was as if both had known all along this was the destination. Aaliyah remained silent, her gaze distant as she sank into the soft comfort of Ruby's living room, the low hum of the city muffled by thick walls and steady friendship.

Ruby disappeared into the kitchen, the sounds of her movements—water running, pans clinking, the rhythmic chop of garlic—drifting gently through the doorway. Aaliyah sat motionless, tracing patterns in the sunlight that spilled across the rug, her thoughts tangled and restless.

Soon, the air filled with the rich, buttery scent of scampi, a fragrance that tugged at memories of laughter and late-night confessions, of comfort found over shared meals. Ruby, efficient as ever, set the table with quiet care: two plates, shining utensils, a carafe of cool water, and a folded napkin at each place. She arranged the scampi with a flourish, the dish shimmering gold and fragrant at the center of the table.

Stepping back into the living room, Ruby caught Aaliyah's eye and offered a soft smile. "Lunch is ready," she said, her voice gentle, offering not just a meal but a quiet place to land.

Aaliyah managed a grateful smile, rising to join her friend at the table, the weight in her chest loosening just a little as the world, for a moment, shrank to the warmth of home and the promise of comfort food shared in easy silence.

As Ruby poured water into their glasses, Aaliyah toyed with her fork, her gaze fixed on the delicate curls of steam rising from the scampi. Silence stretched, easy but expectant, until she finally found her voice—quiet but certain. "Is it bad that I don't want his friends to know our situation?" she asked, the words fragile, as if speaking to them might change their shape.

Ruby paused, setting the carafe down softly. She took her seat across from Aaliyah, eyes warm and steady. "Bad? No," she said, her tone gentle, no judgment behind it. "You don't owe anyone your story, not until you're ready. Protecting yourself isn't the same as hiding. Sometimes you just need time to decide what's yours to share."

Aaliyah nodded, exhaling slowly. The food before them seemed less important than this small, safe space, and she allowed herself to believe, if only for a moment, that trust—like friendship—could hold the weight of unspoken worries. They ate in companionable quiet, the city's bustle kept at bay, comfort drawn from simple presence and honest words.