Human - phan

Twenty Six

The dance studio was lit only by the lights from the changing room. It had grown so dim that all I could see was the shadow of Phil's silhouette hunched over an essay on the window sill. My legs were burning and there was the familiar happy ache in the centre of my core that told me I was just about done for the day, exhausted but contented. I pushed sweaty hair out of my face and brought a leg up to stretch out. It was a Saturday so the dance studio was empty, and I'd been here with Phil since three in the afternoon. It had been a good day. We'd started out in the forest, taking a picnic down to the river and towels this time – swimming and laughing and huddling for warmth as we tried to dry off before lounging on the grass under a damp towel and pretending to ourselves that we were working. And now we were here – he wanted to watch me dance so I made him sit as far away as possible and tried to pretend I was alone, and it had worked. He was so quiet he'd faded into the studio walls creating a peace and security in the air you don't normally get when you're on your own.

Phil looked up from his notebook as I flicked the music off.

"You done?" He asked.

"Yup. How's the essay coming along?"

"Well... I've only just really started as you're kind of distracting over there."

I laughed as I flopped down beside him. "You've literally written half a paragraph."

"Like I said. Distracting."

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, it's not your fault you're an angel or something I don't know. But that's certainly not human."

"No," I agreed, "It's dancing. But humans can be dancers too. They already are really, they just don't realise it."

"I'm no dancer." Phil scoffed, "Have you seen me drunk?!"

"Yes you are!" I persisted. "You just need someone to show you how. Come on."

I dragged Phil protesting into the middle of the room, his pens clattering onto the ground as I pulled him up. He folded his arms and looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"There is no way you're making me dance."

"Stay there." I said, running over to the sound system.

He tapped his foot impatiently, clearly considering making a break for it. I scrolled through my iPod as quickly as possible – searching for something good, but I wasn't quite sure what until I found it: Lou Reed, Perfect Day. Perfect. I would teach Phil to slow dance. I grinned to myself as the familiar opening bars echoed around the studio. Phil rolled his eyes.

"Come on then." I said as I joined him, slipping an arm around his waist and grabbing his spare hand. "We're going to waltz!"

Phil tried to roll his eyes again but a smirk slid across his face and I felt him curl his fingers around my hand.

"Okay," I said turning my eyes down at our feet. "I'm going to be the man so make sure you pay attention or I'll step on your toes. Now, I put my right foot forwards while your left goes back – yeah like that, and now we step to the side – my left, your right so we're like mirroring each other. Okay and step again to bring your feet together and yeah, that's basically it! Okay so now your right foot goes forward, yep, side, together, step, side together, yeah see! It's really easy!"

As the chorus kicked in, we stepped in time and started slowly to circle. It didn't matter that the music wasn't the right beat for a waltz. Phil's grip was firm and his palm slightly sticky but I knew mine was worse. His waist was impossibly warm and curved; strong and lean yet yielding. Soft. Rippling gently under my fingers. I lifted my head from where it had been resting on his shoulder, breathing in the sweet berry scent of his shampoo. Phil's was screwed up with concentration as he stared down at his feet placing each one with care. It was adorable.

I watched the muscles on his cheek slowly relax as he started to get the hang of it, and eventually he brought his eyes up to meet mine with a triumphant beam.

His lips were moving to the words, and I smiled.

Just a perfect day; you made me forget myself. I thought I was someone else, someone good.

As another chorus spurred our feet onwards I joined in – and now we were singing. Tuneless and loud with the kind of freedom only possible with old music and close friends.

Oh it's such a perfect day. I'm glad I spent it with you.