Thread: What Might Have Been (AndNich123 & Reydan)

The way that blush crept over her face, like ink spreading over clean white paper, took him back. They could have been seventeen again. Easily. In that moment time was relative, a conduit that allowed them to remember...The twinkle of her eyes. The way her hair shifted around her face, even though her cut was more professional and tidy than it had been in their youth. The way she rose to an occasion, rather than shied away from it. Same old Maddy. Same Old Maddy. Same old Maddy pushing him towards the dancefloor. It had been her aim, her dream, but it had taken months of dating before he agreed to finally dance with her in public. He was terrible. A toe-crushing, arrhythmic, disaster. Elbows jostling other dancers, feet leaden, palms sweaty with embarrassment. Whereas she? She had grace and poise and dresses that shimmied invitingly around her thighs as she swayed her hips. It had been the dresses, or more accurately the promise of what lay beneath, that had enticed him. Made him teenaged putty in her hands and ensured that he continued in his crushingly terrible attempts to dance with her. He was never really sure he'd improved, despite her promises he was getting better with each attempt, but it made her happy. And he lived for that. Had lived for that, he corrected himself. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe, in that timeless place, time didn't matter. His hands were on her hips as they swayed, uptempo country music making it easy to shimmy and hop with the dancers around them. He had, in fact, got better, and the little squeal of delight that he stole from her lips as he picked Maddy up and spun her around before landing her back on her feet, like the other women on the floor had been spun, was well worth the effort. This was where they had been, he knew. In the beating heart of this little hometown community. So quaint and local it was like they had been made by the Hallmark company to sell a perfect slice of Western Americana. But something changed, in that moment, even as he considered how time seemed to fall away. The music stopped, shifting to a familiar soft ballad. Couples embraced, drawing close. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Mackenzie girl press her lips to his brother's throat, Daniel clearly well on his way to another conquest. And the sight of his brother, so much older than when Maddy had left, was jarring. Knocking against the timeless feel of her body close to his. Maddy no he said, his voice low. His eyes awash with...something. It was a creeping dread, hot fingers running up his back. Prickling his senses. This was wrong. It felt wrong. The beer tasted sour in his mouth. The warm air of the bar suddenly stiffling. He pushed out into the night-time street, quiet save for the murmur of the bar behind, and sucked in the cold prairie air desperately. Like he had come up for oxygen. It was a slap in the face. A sudden icy wakeup call. The night was cloudless and, despite the warm weather of the day, the heat had rapidly dissipated, leaving the darkness cool and dry. He knew she had followed him out. Knew it without looking. And he couldn't turn to face her. So instead, like a coward, Charles said what he knew he had to say over his shoulder. Not looking back. Why, Maddy? Why?