The sweat makes her make-up smear; to him she's never looked more beautiful. Her body moves with the music, her hips swaying back and forth. It takes all he has not to kiss her right then and there.

They stay in the club until the last dance; their bodies never part. When they finally stumble out his arm is around her waist and she is practically hanging off him, as if they're afraid to let go. She drags him to a diner that's open all night, the sign boasting chips. They are, after all, her favorite food.

They sit across from each other in a booth. Her feet manage to make their way onto the seat next to him, her eyes flash mischievously. The urge to kiss her grows. She orders a plate of chips with vinegar, telling the waitress they'll share.

Almost two hours later they exit the diner, full of chips and sleepy. Her eyes are drooping and he can tell she's too tired to make it back. Without saying a word he picks her up, cradling her like one would a sleeping child. Her faces buries into his neck, her eyes closed, breathe tickling, sending chills up his spine.

He lays her in bed, removes her shoes, amazed, as always, that she managed to dance in them for all those hours. He goes to leave but her hand grabs his wrist, eyes open but filled with sleep still.


It's the only word she says, it's the only word he needs. He removes his own shoes and climbs into bed with her. She snuggles into his chest, like she belongs. He is careful not to move, not to disturb her.

In the morning, when she wakes, her eyes still heavy with sleep, he kisses her. She's just too perfect not too.