"Dance with me."
The familiar voice, laced with that horrid accent; you know, the one that makes me absolutely heady, penetrates the very depths of the thoughts I'd found myself lost in mere moments ago. My gaze lifts from the table's wooden top only to come to rest upon the hand that extends outwards towards me. A more thorough investigation finds Enzo on the end of the arm that offers itself up for a dance. A dance. With me. I scoff, clearly bothered by the notion of dancing, let alone moving from the very spot in which I have built myself a lovely little pity party complete with the bar's finest bourbon and scotch.
"I don't think so," I reply before tossing back the last of my glass' contents.
I lean back, watching as Enzo never once falters in his quest to pull me out of the hole I've begun to dig for myself. So Stefan had rejected me. Twice. And now he was gone for good, or so I'd convinced myself. Now what? Now we go out and enjoy ourselves, Enzo's comment from earlier in the evening drifted into my thoughts like an unwanted visitor.
Enjoy yourself, you mean.
There's nothing enjoyable about watching you sulk about, gorgeous.
Get lost.
Not unless you come with.
Why Enzo had insisted to make my burden his own I'll never know. He'd been an acquaintance at best ever since our initial meeting, and now.. Well naturally that was nothing a road trip to Savannah couldn't muddy up. As if my life wasn't complicated enough.
"Caroline." His tone is bordering on chastising though his face clearly reads that of amusement; amusement in the thrill of the chase. This chase, however, was not one that I was eager to set off on. Unfortunately Enzo had other plans. With a huff of displeasure, I push myself away from the table, the chair's legs screeching painfully against the linoleum floor.
I reach out to take his hand, and I follow Enzo as he effortlessly weaves us through a small cluster of tables until we reach the tiny dance floor that sits towards the back of the building. By now, a slow rhythm begins to play, the addition of a few punches of bass mixing in soon following. A slow song by most standards, and yet fast enough that I suspect it was especially chosen by Enzo so as not to insinuate this as anything other than a dance to rid me of my sorrows.
When you try your best, but you don't succeed.
When you get what you want, but not what you need.
"A remix. How…thoughtful." I blurt out, my tone seemingly ungrateful.
I don't even have to be looking up at Enzo to see his smirk; I can feel it. His left arm slinks around my waist, pulling me in closer to secure his dance partner in a firm embrace while the other keeps my hand clasped in his. I place my free hand atop his shoulder, finally risking a glance in his direction.
Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones.
I will try to fix you.
"I like to think myself an occasional romantic," he shoots back, his eyes gleaming with beguilement.
The tempo picks up upon the finishing of the chorus, and I can't help but sway along to the catchy beat. Soon, the two of us glide along the faux wooden dance floor in time to the music, and for once I find myself thankful that the music is the one doing the talking rather than myself or Enzo. Oddly enough, as the song progresses, I lose sight of the issues that made the beginning of the evening seem so downright awful. Stefan is gone, and that may still sting, but in this moment it isn't he that I think of.
When you're too in love to let it go.
But if you never try, you'll never know.
For the first time this evening a genuine smile illuminates my features, thrilled with at how agile Enzo seems to be. His smile echoes my silent sentiments, and even though this dance may not be a permanent fix, I will take it for what it's worth: the beginning to a brand new and much happier me.