“Hey. Wanna dance?” Kate sent you a nervy smile, tilting her head to the side for a little for extra effect. Dramatic. At your scoff and subsequent acceptance, she pulled you with her through the mass of people. The crowd you weaved through was thick and dark, and she honestly preferred it. Maybe that way you wouldn't be able to see the ferocious blush creeping up her neck.

It wasn't making things worse. It was dancing. Just dancing. Shaking away the thoughts, Kate eventually easied into her own languid rhythm—mirroring your moves, the both of you a little slower than the beat of the music. She was too entranced in the way you were swaying, how your eyes met her own, to honestly keep up. It hurt. It hurt and it shouldn't have, God it really, really shouldn't have. Couldn't. You were best friends, had been so for years, hell, decades. From childhood to now — attached at the hip. Best friends.

"You look nice tonight," she murmured, struggling to keep the uncertainty out of her words, noses brushing against one another. Gulping.