Metal Whispers
Title: The Magic Number
Word Count: 912
Crossposted: HERE at runaway-tales
She'd been expecting Daxen to abandon her the moment they got through the doors, perhaps to go mingle with his friends, or socialize with the throngs of beautiful women that stared longingly at him from across the room. She even watched the scene in her head exactly as she imagined it would play out - like one of those teenage dramas she used to watch in high school, in which she would be the awkward nerdy girl that the handsome quarterback was dared to take to the prom, and she would spend the entire night sitting alone on a bench against the wall while he danced and laughed with his popular friends.
But he didn't move more than a few inches from her. If her arm wasn't hooked in his elbow, he stood close to her side, occasionally wrapping his arm around her waist as they moved from group to group. At first she thought he was just politely steering her through conversations, but then realized that his touch was timed almost perfectly to the scathing glares of the other women, who seemed entirely put off by the fact that Keelin stayed so close to him. It gave her a surreal thrill, being the object of someone else's jealousy.
After working their way through dozens of introductions and sipping enough wine to make her thoughts comfortably fuzzy, she found herself on the edge of the dance floor, watching the slow swirl of color as couples waltzed to the slow, soothing music. There were far more people watching than dancing - when the song ended, a round of applause broke out through the crowd, and as the first lilting notes of band's next number rose into the air, she felt Daxen tug her toward the floor. Doing her best deer-in-the-headlights impression, she shook her head vigorously.
"No way," she said, pulling against him. "I've had way too much to drink." Not convinced, he gave her a reassuring smile and took both her hands, coaxing her after him.
"It'll be okay," he said, and his smile won her over. She almost tripped over her own feet a few times as he led her to the center of the floor, but thankfully once they got there he didn't try to make her pull off a graceful waltz like the other couples - instead, he pulled her close to him, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body, smell the crisp fabric of his jacket. Sighing, she leaned into his shoulder and closed her eyes, letting him guide her feet in small steps.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Hmm?"
"You sighed."
"It was a happy sigh," he told him, and heard him laugh. "Though I can't help but wonder what a guy like you is doing here with a girl like me."
"Oh boy, we've hit that magic number with the glasses of wine, have we?" he teased.
"Something like that."
"So let me guess, guys like me are the trust fund brats with the pretty cars?"
"I was thinking more the popular quarterback," she replied with a smirk.
"I was pretty good at football..." he mused, pressing a finger to his chin. "And I do have a thing for cheerleaders..." She smacked his chest with the palm of her hand, making him laugh again. "Please don't turn into one of those sobby drunks with horrible self-esteem," he pleaded melodramatically. "I have no problem telling you that you're beautiful, but having to tell you every ten minutes will get old, fast."
She leaned back just enough that she could look up at him, sliding her arms across his shoulders so that she could knot her hands at the back of his neck, and smiled hesitantly.
"You think so?" she asked.
"Oh yeah," he agreed. "I got conned into going to Morgan's wedding, and had to spend the whole night babysitting his tanked daughter and telling her that yes, she's smart, and -"
"No, I mean..." She bit her lip. "You think I'm beautiful?"
A bemused smile tugged at his lips for just a moment before he realized she wasn't teasing, and as the mirth faded from his face his eyes grew somewhat concerned, almost troubled. Their already slow dance had stopped completely.
"Are you serious?" he asked.
"Well, I..." She tore her eyes away and looked to one side, noticing the people staring at her, the way women whispered to each other behind gloved hands. "It's just... like I said, guys like you and girls like me -"
"Jesus, Keelin -"
"I mean look at you, you're like a movie star to these people," she said, ignoring his frustrated expression. "You're handsome and you're brilliant and you protect this whole damn city and then there's me, this stupid rookie, I mean I couldn't even finish a bachelor's degree and for some reason you -"
He kissed her so abruptly, and with such force, that she almost choked on her words, and the tittering whispers around them turned into gasps of either shock or dismay, the flashes of cameras on both sides dazzling Keelin's wide eyes. She barely noticed, her foggy brain instead focusing on the racing tempo of her heart, the near-electric shiver that ran the length of her body, the gentle but firm press of Daxen's hands against her back. When he pulled away she could only stare at him, starstruck for entirely new reasons.
"Yes," he said softly, "I think you're beautiful."
Word Count: 912
Crossposted: HERE at runaway-tales
She'd been expecting Daxen to abandon her the moment they got through the doors, perhaps to go mingle with his friends, or socialize with the throngs of beautiful women that stared longingly at him from across the room. She even watched the scene in her head exactly as she imagined it would play out - like one of those teenage dramas she used to watch in high school, in which she would be the awkward nerdy girl that the handsome quarterback was dared to take to the prom, and she would spend the entire night sitting alone on a bench against the wall while he danced and laughed with his popular friends.
But he didn't move more than a few inches from her. If her arm wasn't hooked in his elbow, he stood close to her side, occasionally wrapping his arm around her waist as they moved from group to group. At first she thought he was just politely steering her through conversations, but then realized that his touch was timed almost perfectly to the scathing glares of the other women, who seemed entirely put off by the fact that Keelin stayed so close to him. It gave her a surreal thrill, being the object of someone else's jealousy.
After working their way through dozens of introductions and sipping enough wine to make her thoughts comfortably fuzzy, she found herself on the edge of the dance floor, watching the slow swirl of color as couples waltzed to the slow, soothing music. There were far more people watching than dancing - when the song ended, a round of applause broke out through the crowd, and as the first lilting notes of band's next number rose into the air, she felt Daxen tug her toward the floor. Doing her best deer-in-the-headlights impression, she shook her head vigorously.
"No way," she said, pulling against him. "I've had way too much to drink." Not convinced, he gave her a reassuring smile and took both her hands, coaxing her after him.
"It'll be okay," he said, and his smile won her over. She almost tripped over her own feet a few times as he led her to the center of the floor, but thankfully once they got there he didn't try to make her pull off a graceful waltz like the other couples - instead, he pulled her close to him, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body, smell the crisp fabric of his jacket. Sighing, she leaned into his shoulder and closed her eyes, letting him guide her feet in small steps.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Hmm?"
"You sighed."
"It was a happy sigh," he told him, and heard him laugh. "Though I can't help but wonder what a guy like you is doing here with a girl like me."
"Oh boy, we've hit that magic number with the glasses of wine, have we?" he teased.
"Something like that."
"So let me guess, guys like me are the trust fund brats with the pretty cars?"
"I was thinking more the popular quarterback," she replied with a smirk.
"I was pretty good at football..." he mused, pressing a finger to his chin. "And I do have a thing for cheerleaders..." She smacked his chest with the palm of her hand, making him laugh again. "Please don't turn into one of those sobby drunks with horrible self-esteem," he pleaded melodramatically. "I have no problem telling you that you're beautiful, but having to tell you every ten minutes will get old, fast."
She leaned back just enough that she could look up at him, sliding her arms across his shoulders so that she could knot her hands at the back of his neck, and smiled hesitantly.
"You think so?" she asked.
"Oh yeah," he agreed. "I got conned into going to Morgan's wedding, and had to spend the whole night babysitting his tanked daughter and telling her that yes, she's smart, and -"
"No, I mean..." She bit her lip. "You think I'm beautiful?"
A bemused smile tugged at his lips for just a moment before he realized she wasn't teasing, and as the mirth faded from his face his eyes grew somewhat concerned, almost troubled. Their already slow dance had stopped completely.
"Are you serious?" he asked.
"Well, I..." She tore her eyes away and looked to one side, noticing the people staring at her, the way women whispered to each other behind gloved hands. "It's just... like I said, guys like you and girls like me -"
"Jesus, Keelin -"
"I mean look at you, you're like a movie star to these people," she said, ignoring his frustrated expression. "You're handsome and you're brilliant and you protect this whole damn city and then there's me, this stupid rookie, I mean I couldn't even finish a bachelor's degree and for some reason you -"
He kissed her so abruptly, and with such force, that she almost choked on her words, and the tittering whispers around them turned into gasps of either shock or dismay, the flashes of cameras on both sides dazzling Keelin's wide eyes. She barely noticed, her foggy brain instead focusing on the racing tempo of her heart, the near-electric shiver that ran the length of her body, the gentle but firm press of Daxen's hands against her back. When he pulled away she could only stare at him, starstruck for entirely new reasons.
"Yes," he said softly, "I think you're beautiful."