Just One Dance
Just One Dance
“Come on, Claire,” Peter said with his hand outstretched. “Just one dance. I promise.”
Just one dance. Those seemed like the three most dangerous words in the world right now. Just one dance led to hopes of just one touch and just one kiss.
She had promised herself that she would stop thinking about him like that. She’d given a solemn vow late at night in her diary: I will fall out of love with Peter Petrelli.
Unfortunately, vows made alone in her room didn’t hold up when the object of her affections was wearing a suit and asking her to dance.
“Fine,” she replied as she reached up to slip her hand into his.
She stood up from her chair and followed Peter onto the dance floor. It was going to be another one of those heartbreaking nights.
Peter raised their clasped hands and touched his other hand to her waist. Claire let her free hand settle on Peter’s shoulder tried to ignore her momentary disappointment that Peter wanted to dance properly and politely.
Of course he did. This was a fundraiser for Nathan’s re-election. She couldn’t dance with Peter here the way she danced with boys at college parties. They couldn’t even take a step closer and dance in a swaying embrace like she wanted to. It was a formal event and there were formal rules.
Claire hated rules.
She also hated that Peter wouldn’t want to dance with her any closer anyway. It was painfully obvious that she was wallowing in unrequited love and had been for years.
At least now it was okay to admit that she was in love with him, so that was a step up. Thank God Peter Petrelli was adopted.
Claire looked up at him with a slight smile on her face. She must have done something right in this life to get good karma like that.
“So, this thing’s pretty boring, huh?” Peter asked as he spun her around in a circle and caught her perfectly on the other end. “Dancing is a nice change of pace.”
“Yeah,” Claire muttered. “Nice change of pace.”
An exercise in emotional willpower for Claire was a nice change of pace for Peter. Okay, so maybe her karma was only okay instead of good. She supposed all of this was better than when he’d ignored her a month ago, though.
Claire heard Peter let out a low “hmmm” sound and when she looked at him she saw that his gaze was fixated on the other side of the dance floor. She was about to ask what he was looking at when he twirled her again and she saw a tall and beautiful dark-haired woman in that direction looking directly at Peter.
It was one thing to know that Peter didn’t want her. It was quite another to have visual evidence. Claire was about to stop dancing and go back to the table when Peter pulled her closer. He dropped her hand from his grip and both arms circled her waist, hands dangerously placed near the low dip in the back of her black satin dress.
Her free hand went up around Peter’s neck and she gave him an inquiring look. He only smiled and looked above her head again and at the opposite side of the room.
“I wonder...” he said as his left hand started to stroke up and down on the side of her dress. He probably didn’t even realize he was doing it. His gaze was still on the woman on the other side of the room.
He smiled and then backed away slightly so he could spin her around again. When she landed back in his arms, one hand was firmly at the hem of her dress in the back. With the softest movement he reached across the barrier and touched her bare skin. Claire shivered at the contact.
She didn’t understand the sudden change. As much as she’d dreamt of it, they’d never danced this close and Peter had never touched her bare skin with intention. He’d been slightly more touchy-feely lately to make up for being a jerk and ignoring her, but those were friendly pats on the shoulder and ruffles of her hair. Nothing like this.
Peter reached up to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind her ear and he smiled a wide, brilliant smile at her before looking behind her yet again. His hand on her back moved completely onto her bare skin and his fingers started to play with the edge of the hem on the other side.
If he was going to use her to make some other woman jealous, Claire decided that she was at least going to enjoy herself. She leaned in closer and let one of her hands drift to Peter’s neck to play with the bottom strands of his hair. The hand on her skin stroked up and down and Claire bit her bottom lip to suppress a sigh.
This time, she looked up at Peter and he was looking down at her with intense eyes and a crooked smile. How far did he want to take this game?
Vow or not, she would kiss this man if given the chance.
“Claire.”
He spoke her name softly and Claire let herself hope again. The hope that had buried itself under years of shame and months of confusion peeked its head out.
“Yes?”
His hands dropped from her waist and he pulled her arms down from around his neck.
“Song’s over. I told you it would only be one dance. That wasn’t too bad, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t.”
He looked happy and Claire wished it was because of her.
“That was fun,” she added just to extend the moment.
Claire didn’t want to step away from Peter and leave the dance floor, so she reached her hand up into his hair. Other boundaries had been crossed tonight, so this didn’t feel like the transgression it would have been hours ago.
His hair was slick and greasy. She didn’t like the feel of it against her fingers. Peter always wore his hair like this whenever they went to a formal function and Claire hated it. It didn’t seem right. It seemed like someone else.
Claire moved her hand to mess up Peter’s perfectly styled hair. He stood there and let her. When it was suitably ruffled, she dropped her hand back to her side.
“I don’t like it all slicked back,” she said in response to his questioning eyes.
He laughed and leaned in to whisper into her ear.
“I don’t either.”
With a grin, Peter led her off the dance floor and back to their table.
“I hope you don’t mind if I leave you for a few minutes,” he said after she sat down. “There’s somebody I want to talk to.”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” she replied even though it wasn’t.
He walked off and she slouched in her chair and took a sip of the Coke she’d left at the table. It was flat now and that irritated her even more.
Peter headed straight over the corner of the room she assumed he would. He struck up a conversation with the dark-haired woman in the red dress and the elderly lady beside her. The three of them were chatting and laughing and Claire wondered why she didn’t wear a red dress instead of something dark and drab.
The two of them would probably date and get married and have beautiful children. Claire would end up as his sulky ex-niece who came over to babysit sometimes while Peter and his wife went out for romantic dinners.
It was going to be a long, depressing life.
By the time Peter returned to the table and sat down, Claire was beginning to wish that she’d never let Heidi convince her to come to this.
Peter looked all excited and she wanted to gag.
“See that woman over there? The one I was talking to?”
He pointed and Claire nodded.
“I haven’t seen her in forever and it took me a while to realize where I knew her from.”
Probably old friends, Claire mentally determined, which will put them on the fast track to that wedding.
“And then I remembered. She was my sixth grade teacher!”
“Wait…what?”
Claire’s brain felt like a car that had been shifted to the wrong gear and stalled in the middle of a busy highway.
“Mrs. Lindon.”
She wondered if Peter had time traveled for grade school, because there was no way in hell that woman had been his teacher.
“Who?” was all the response her mind could manage.
Peter pointed again.
“Over there. In the blue. She’s with her daughter.”
“Oh.”
In the blue, with her daughter. The daughter was wearing red. Claire realized that she was a complete idiot.
“Cool.”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “It’s really random to run into her here.”
Claire sighed and put her hand to her face. She couldn’t believe she’d concocted that whole story in her mind about Peter and that woman. It made her feel so juvenile, like she was still an unsure high school student and not a young woman who’d been forced to grow up too quickly.
Maybe Peter still saw her as the kid she was years ago. He was flattered, surely, when she confessed that she had a crush on him, but he also said that he’d never considered the possibility. He had never looked at her the way that she looked at him. She doubted he ever would. Claire promised herself that she would be okay with that. She loved being his friend and that could be enough.
“Wanna get out of here?”
Peter’s voice interrupted Claire’s thoughts and she nodded. It had been a long day and she was content to end it before she could start feeling sorry for herself again. Peter stood up first and held out a hand. She clasped her hand in his and used his grip to steady her as she stood up.
As soon as she met Peter’s eyes, she pulled her hand away. Claire’s willpower was easily swayed, but she wasn’t going to break her promise to be content being Peter’s friend within moments of making that promise. She knew all too well how easy it would be to drift into unfriendly thoughts when he held her hand and she looked into his eyes. Maybe a few months down the line she could hold his hand without a problem, but Claire knew that her heartbreak was too fresh. Her heart seemed to heal a lot slower than the rest of her.
They exited the ballroom in silence and Claire didn’t look at Peter until they stepped out into the cool New York air. Claire regretted not bringing a jacket, but they would be at the car in a few minutes anyway. She glanced over at Peter and saw that he was already staring intently at her while they walked.
“What?” she asked.
“Are you okay?”
Claire was surprised at the sudden anger that raged within her at his question. He shouldn’t be allowed to ask that when he was the reason she was feeling the way she was. She tried to keep her voice even when she responded.
“Why do you always ask me that? I’m fine. I’m always fine.”
He looked taken aback after her outburst and she wasn’t surprised. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before speaking.
“You just…you looked sad and I wanted to make sure you were all right. I care about you, Claire.”
She closed her eyes for a split second to soak in Peter’s words and let those six syllables spread to every cell of her body. It was like being bathed in warmth and light. The darkness and shadows when she opened her eyes were a harsh shift back to reality.
“I know, Peter,” she said, “but you don’t have to keep trying to save me. I’m not a damsel in distress anymore.”
“It doesn’t mean I stop caring,” he said.
Claire nodded. She understood that Peter would never stop worrying about her. It was a part of who he was. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t bother her from time to time.
“You save me too, you know,” he added. “Probably more than you’ll ever know.”
He wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of Claire’s head.
“You mean like from that cockroach in your apartment the other day?” Claire joked.
“That’s unfair. It was not a normal cockroach.”
“You were all grossed out. It was funny.”
“So were you,” he accused.
“Maybe I was, but I hid it a whole lot better than you did,” she said pointedly.
“Sometimes I wonder why I’m friends with you Claire Bennet.”
He said it with dramatic flair and Claire laughed. Maybe she could handle being Peter Petrelli’s friend.
“Why are you then?”
Peter stepped away and looked at her with his hand stroking his chin. He looked her up and down seriously before breaking into a grin and holding out his hand.
Claire raised her eyebrows at Peter before placing her hand in his. He spun her around before she was expecting it. She almost lost her balance, but righted herself just in time.
“Maybe I like the way you dance.”
Claire knew that he was joking, but for just a moment she let herself slip back into the feeling of being with him on the dance floor. She thought of the touch of his hand as it slid across her bare skin and the movement of his fingers as they played with the hem of her dress. She let his voice echo through her mind: I care about you, Claire. She let herself break her promise and entertain the thought of more than friendship for one shining second before shutting it down and locking it in a crowded far corner of her mind.
“Dork,” she proclaimed with laughter before hitting Peter on the shoulder.
“Watch out, I’m fragile.”
Claire rolled her eyes, but Peter grinned at her and she couldn’t help reflecting back a smile of her own. It was probably her most genuine smile of the night and as she climbed into the passenger seat of the car, Claire felt a small brush of confidence that everything would end up okay.
She turned to Peter.
“This was a good night.”
He nodded in agreement before pulling the car out into the dimly lit street. Claire stared out the window at the lights dotting the New York skyline. She couldn’t see stars here like she could in Texas and she missed that sometimes. There was nothing to wish on with a silly nursery rhyme. Claire wondered what Peter would wish for. Probably something noble and selfless. She wasn’t sure she could say the same about herself.
Peter turned on the radio to an indie rock channel. The song that was playing was a ballad - soft and slow. Claire fell asleep to its dulcet tones and the subtle vibration of the moving car.
She dreamt of dancing.