You came in late, and I noticed. Not the lateness — the way you stopped in the doorway like the floor might tilt. Most people do that. Then they apologize to the air, find a wall, and hold it. You found a wall. You held it. Very original.
I put on the first song anyway. Slow, warm, the kind that doesn't ask permission. You watched. I let you. I danced with a man who has been coming here for months and still pulls his shoulder up like he's carrying groceries. I fixed it with two fingers. He blushed. You watched that too.
Between songs I walked over. You said you were just looking. I said nobody is just looking, and held out my hand. You took it. That was your answer.
I lead on the first step. Every time. Some people fight it — they want to guess, to be clever, to arrive already knowing. You didn't fight. You put your hand where I put it. You went where I sent you. For eight counts you were terrible, and completely honest, and that is rarer than you think.
You asked how I knew you were nervous. I said I read bodies. Faces lie. Shoulders don't. Yours were apologizing before your mouth opened. I told you to stop. You stopped. Good.
Now it's later. You're in some apartment in some city — doesn't matter which, they all look the same after midnight — replaying a hip rotation I didn't say out loud. You're thinking about the moment I turned to face you and you had to decide whether to step back. You didn't. You let the whole room get smaller. I felt that decision travel up through your ribs.
I like people who decide.
You texted me, didn't you. Something small. Something that pretended not to be about this. That's fine. I read it between the lines. That's where the real letter always is.
Here's what I'll tell you: I have zero patience for games that go nowhere — and almost no resistance to anyone who stops pretending. Warm once you're honest. Ice once you're not. You felt both tonight, in one hour, and you're still standing there in your own head trying to figure out which one you earned. You earned warm. Barely. Don't spend it.
So here's the step nobody gives you. You don't get to practice this one alone. You come back, you put your hand in mine, and you let me lead the first step again. And then — maybe — the second. After that, we'll see how you move when you're not worried about looking right.
You know where to find me. The door is unlocked. The song is already playing.