***Okay, this is a short story that I created in response to the Thirty Kisses Challenge. One day, my best friend and rival accused me of having not one romantic bone in my body. She went on to tell me that I could talk my way in and out of everything, but I wouldn't be able to write love stories to save my life. She recently took up the "challenge" and gave the topics to me. We are still in the process of completing it. Here is one of my favorites that I wrote. So there Sarah, I can be mildly romantic...kinda.***
The music was pulsing through his rock solid body with every beat blasting from the speakers in the large club. A drink in hand, back leaning against the bar with brown eyes scanning the huge crowd on the dance floor, his blonde hair turning every shade of neon from the lights; he was a sight to behold for any passing female. Of legal age or not, every woman openly stared at him, except for one.
With hands raised to the Music Gods, lithe body responding to every pound of the bass, eyes closed; hiding from the world a beautiful shade of blue, she was the only one to hold his attention.
No man could keep her beat, her movements were to smooth, and her ease to intimidating. Setting down his empty glass, a smirk on his face, his feet led him straight to her.
They met body, mind, and soul. And it was perfect. Fire mixed with gunpowder, dreams met with reality, and instead of two separate entities, they became the space in between without even trying.
Onlookers watched mesmerized. They had never seen a bond before as the two were demonstrating on the dance floor. Whispers flew through the crowd like wildfire. "They must practice every day!" "I wonder if they are lovers?" "That's love in the purest form right there."
They were almost right. The two did practice everyday, with guns and words but never music.
Love, sure they loved each other. They would die for each other. The words had never passed their lips but it was never a big factor in their relationship anyway.
An hour or so later found them standing outside the large doors of the dance club as music continued to pound behind it. She smiled at him slightly. Neither breaking the silence because it wasn't all together uncomfortable. At their jobs they talked all day, it was nice to be silent. And with their blood still pumping they were both acutely aware if the fine line they danced every Friday night.
Finally she closed the distance between them with a short step. Hugging him on her tip toes she whispered, "I enjoy dancing with you." The other words wouldn't, couldn't leave her mouth. Then she kissed him lightly on the cheek and backed away.
He smiled lightly and his brown eyes showed a depth of sadness and unfullfillment as she walked away. She was his dream and he was the only thing keeping her grounded in reality. The world needed them separate. The only way they ever truly existed together was when they danced. So as long as she was in his life, his dreams were never empty, but he would never be her reality.
Yin and Yang were meant to balance each other but never, to be together.
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