Lost in You

for the most part this one seems mellow.
    We dance. I get to hold her in my arms and feel her up against my body. She’s not shy and I’m not sure if I like that or not. She has one hand underneath my shirt, her fingers dance along my waistband giving me just enough satisfaction. She pulls me down closer to her so she can press her lips against my neck. Each movement she choreographs as if she’s the conductor and our bodies are the orchestra.
    As the night goes on, people come and go. Only once do I hear glass break, which leaves me standing in the middle of the room while Dylan rushes off to make sure nothing valuable has been ruined. My arms felt empty and cold without her in them. When she returns she looks frantic, crazy almost.
    “What’s going on?”
    “Nothing, I just think it’s time for people to start leaving, if you’re okay with that.”
    “Of course I’m okay with that. I would have been happy to celebrate just with you.”
    “Okay, good,” she says before rushing off.
    I start to pick up the garbage that people leave in their wake. She shuttles people out, most of them don’t even say goodbye. I find that a bit rude since she graciously opened her house to them.
    Once everyone is out, we finish cleaning up the mess. I carry black bags of bottles out to the garage. We’ll have to take them to the store tomorrow before her parents get home. The last thing I want is for her to get into trouble or for them to think I did this and ask me to leave. Although if that happened, I’d just take a bus to New York and start living my life – there’s no way I’d go back to my parents. When everything is cleaned, furniture replaced and the house smelling nice, Dylan excuses herself to go take a shower.
    I sit on my bed, listening to her sing in the shower. She’s loud. Her voice carries through the walls. It’s funny, all the time I spent with Hadley, she never once sang out loud. Maybe it was because that’s what she did for a living, but listening to Dylan makes me realize how real she is when she’s around me. When the shower shuts off, I jump. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s not like I’m expecting anything to happen.
    I step into my doorway just as Dylan comes out of the bathroom. Her hair is wet, leaving drops of water all over her shoulders. The hot pink towel she’s using to cover herself leaves very little to the imagination. She walks over to me, my mind forgetting that I’m standing in just my boxers, as her finger trails down my chest, resting when it reaches the top of them. I swallow hard, afraid to make any sudden movements or errant outbursts.
    “I…” I clear my throat and try again. “Shower,” I spit out, earning a wicked grin from her. My hand runs through my hair, pulling at the ends. I don’t know what I’m doing here, no freaking clue how to proceed, but I think I want to… No, I know I want to.
    Dylan kisses my chest, lingering there for a moment before walking down the hall to her room. I lean out of the doorway and watch as her hips sway back and forth. Taking a deep breath I hightail it to the shower and rush through getting clean.
    I take a chance and go to her room when I’ve finished. I didn’t put on a t-shirt when I got out, hoping she’d want to kiss me again. I stand in her doorway. She’s lying on her stomach, her legs bent at the knees and crossed at her ankles. They move up and down as her head bops like she’s listening to music. Her hand moves back and forth, turning pages of a magazine or book.
    I’ve been in her room before, but never like this. Never with the intent to touch her, kiss her. I’ve never had impure thoughts about her either, and now they're running rampant through my mind. I walk into her room, my steps quieted by the plush carpet. My heart beats faster the closer I get to her bed. If she knows I’m here, she’s not calling me out. My knees brush the side of her bed, but she doesn’t stop moving her legs up and down. I want to reach out and make them stop, but I can’t.
    I reach out and run my fingers down her back. Her legs still and she pushes aside her magazine. I don’t know what I’m doing, but this feels right. When I get to the hem of her shirt, I pull it up, showing more of her back. Her dark-as-night blue panties grab my attention. She scoots over on the bed, giving me space to sit next to her. Taking her cue, I kneel down and move her shirt up more. She moves away, sitting up on her knees. Her