Moondance
(Lyrics by Van Morrison)
"Well, we did it."
Fitz's voice breaks through Olivia's reverie. She turns to him with an easy smile as he slides into the chair beside her at the top table, its surface strewn with empty wine glasses and wedding confetti. Like most of the tables in the marquee, it's deserted now that the dancing is in full swing on the floor in front if them.
"What do you mean, we did it?" She has to lean close to speak to him, to be heard over the DJ. She can feel the heat of his body radiating across the space between them; smell his familiar scent, like summer and fresh water and just a hint of something else, something exclusively Fitz.
"We got them here," he explains, his arm casually coming to rest on the back of her chair as he gestures to the bride and groom with his other hand. "We got them hitched without incident."
"We sure did. Although I think they did most of it themselves, really. I just carried her train, held her flowers."
"Liv, come on. You stood beside your best friend on the most important day of her life. You were almost the perfect maid of honor."
"Almost?"
She looks at him, eyebrows raised, mouth agape. He mimics her expression, his blue eyes bright with amusement even in the fading evening light.
"Explain yourself mister," she demands, playfully exasperated. "It's late enough now that no one would notice if the best man suddenly went missing... I could kill you, throw your body in the lake and be out of here before anyone suspected a thing."
"You couldn't throw me in the lake."
Surprised, Olivia laughs out loud. "That's the part of my plan you have issue with? Not the bit where I kill you?"
He shrugs, smiling that charming smile of his. "I'm not worried. I could take you."
"Really?"
"Yeah. You're tiny. Look at you."
His gaze sweeps briefly over her body, clad in her dove grey bridesmaid dress, but she notices that he lingers just a second too long on her chest. It makes her skin flood with heat. Fitz doesn't seem to realize he's even done it.
"I'm a black belt in-"
"Taekwando, yeah, I know. But I could still take you."
He's still looking at her, his handsome face full of warmth, affection. Is it just the romance of the day, of watching their best friends get married in this fairytale castle in the English countryside, that is tinting Olivia's vision as pink as the roses in her bouquet? She loves Fitz in so many ways: through their relationships with Kate and Ben, the bride and groom, they've become close friends themselves. People are forever telling them how alike they are; she knows Kate initially hoped they would date, but somehow they never have.
Certainly, she's attracted to him. He's gorgeous. On paper, he should be perfect for her. She's been out with other guys, had several short relationships over the past few years, but they've always ended and secretly, she's always known why: because Fitz is her benchmark. He's so kind, so funny, so caring. If a guy falls short in any area she knows Fitz would excel in, she ends it straight away. How can she settle for less when she knows there are men out there who have it all? (One man, specifically.)
They've kissed once, although she's never told anyone and she doesn't think Fitz even remembers. It was earlier this year at Coachella, with Ben and Kate and far far too much alcohol. Their friends had already retired for the night but she and Fitz were still going, raving to some experimental bass in the dark. It was frenetic, lightning quick; their bodies moved as one, a single cell in a huge living organism, surging together, made alive by the music which vibrated in their bones.
And then suddenly - quiet. The volume dropped right off; there was beautiful synth, layer upon layer of sound, and a slow beat completely juxtaposed to the previous rhythm. She turned to Fitz, whose arms were already around her hot, sweaty body, and with the way he was looking at her it seemed completely the right thing to do to kiss him.
And god, could he kiss.
They made out as the bass kicked in again and gradually started to crescendo, the crowd breathing it in, swelling, pushing against them from all sides. Olivia felt the same: like she was expanding; filling up with lust, desire, liquid gold. Even now, four months later, she can recreate the moment perfectly in her mind: Fitz's taste, the hardness of his body, the way he absolutely dominated her mouth. She remembers the feeling of total surrender, of how she would never have stopped if they hadn't been forced to by the sheer physicality of the people around them.
They danced awhile longer, more handsy than they'd ever been before, until exhaustion hit and she just had to get out of there. They held hands on the way back to their tent; just outside, Fitz pulled her into a hug and squeezed her so tightly she almost couldn't breathe. They swayed slightly together, both drunk, but she felt significantly sobered by the events of the last half hour. When she excused herself to use the bathroom, to brush her teeth, he kissed her: just once, softly. His smile lit up her heart. But there was a huge queue for the ladies' and when she eventually got back, he was already passed out on his airbed.
The next morning, things were completely normal between them. He gave absolutely no indication that he remembered what had happened, and she's never found the courage to mention it again.
"You okay?" Fitz is asking now, drawing her back to the present. She flushes, hoping he can't tell. "Come on, let's go for a walk. It's too hot in here and Kate's Great Aunt Dorothy keeps eyeing me up."
She laughs and lets him take her hand, trying not to react to the touch of his warm skin on hers. Get a grip, Olivia! This is Fitz, at your best friend's wedding. Nothing can happen.
He stops by the bar on their way past, ordering her a glass of Rioja (he knows her so well) and a beer for himself. When they step out of the marquee onto the vast, sweeping lawns of the castle, Olivia is surprised to realize it's lighter out here than inside. It must be almost ten PM but the sky is still a pale blue-purple color, layered with strips of white cloud which seem to disappear into infinity.
Wordlessly, they begin to walk around the marquee towards the gardens. Fitz puts his arm around her shoulders and she holds onto his waist with her free hand, leaning into him. His proximity both excites and soothes her, and she doesn't have the capacity to work out exactly what that means right now.
"Such a beautiful night," she says as the moon comes into view from behind one of the building's turrets, a majestic crescent.
"It sure is."
They wander through the rose gardens, perfectly preened and sweet-smelling on this warm summer's evening. Insects chirrup in the undergrowth, adding to the music from the party. As time passes, Fitz draws her even closer and she realizes that he's tense; with her head near his chest, she can sense that his heart is racing.
"Everything okay?" she asks, peering up at him. When did the blue of his eyes become her favorite color?
He looks at her for a long moment and, for the first time ever, she can't tell what he's thinking. Eventually, he manages a small smile and takes her glass from her, placing it on the ground with his.
"I love this song. Will you dance with me, Olivia?"
It's a marvelous night for a moondance, with the stars up above in your eyes.
He holds her against him, his palm on the small of her back, cradling her other hand in his. For a while he simply gazes at her as they move in slow circles and she feels her own heart start to flutter frantically against her ribs, because she's seen this look on his face once before and they were dancing then, too...
"What did you mean earlier," she says softly, trying to ignore the wild butterflies in her stomach, "When you said I was almost the perfect maid of honor?"
That's it: the moment she confesses; the moment he knows she feels it too. It's the vulnerability in her voice; how she lets go of every barrier, every fear, leaving herself completely bare before him.
It makes the air shift around them; become hotter, thicker. Expectant. She thinks he really is the most beautiful man she's ever known.
"Oh, Livvie," he sighs, and he's the only person who's ever called her that. She wants to hear it every day, from him, for the rest of her life. "The bridesmaids are never supposed to outshine the bride. But you... I couldn't keep my eyes off you. You looked absolutely stunning. You are absolutely stunning. You always are."
His words steal her breath away, so much so that when she tries to say his name, it's barely a whisper.
"I haven't forgotten," he continues, his voice low. She can feel it in his body, they're pressed so close together. "Coachella. When you kissed me."
Her eyes widen. She'd convinced herself that he had, because it was better than thinking he'd remembered and regretted it.
"I know you remember it too," he says before she can think of a way to reply. "I haven't stopped thinking about it since. Have you?"
Her gaze falls to his lips. How much time has she spent with him over the last few months, having coffee or dinner with friends, or jogging together, or watching movies in her apartment, and thought about kissing him again? Too much to count.
"No," she admits, her voice shaking. "No, I haven't."
She's very vaguely aware of the music, of how utterly romantic it is, and yet it pales in comparison to the way Fitz is making her feel right now. She's falling in love with him, right now.
"Olivia."
He's leaning down, his nose almost touching hers. Every fiber of her being wants him to kiss her - no, needs him to... except for one.
"It's Ben and Kate's wedding," she breathes, willing herself to retain some semblance of control, of decency. "We can't do this, not now. Not here."
"Why not? The best man and the maid of honor. It's tradition, isn't it?" He's smiling, joking. It makes her smile too. Everything about him fills her with joy, all the time. "Actually, I have their permission."
She's taken aback by that. "What?"
Is this just a set up?
"I didn't mean it like that," he says quickly, seeing her reaction. "Ben has been encouraging me to ask you out for months now. I think he sensed something might happen today. Weddings are so romantic, aren't they? They stir so many feelings. This morning, when we were getting ready, he told me he and Kate had discussed it, and they'd be over the moon if we got together tonight."
She tries to process all that information. "So we're here because Ben suggested it?"
But Fitz shakes his head, his serious gaze never leaving hers. "We're here because I've been falling for you for three years, Olivia." His voice is soft; it cradles her soul. "We're here because I couldn't keep it to myself a minute longer. We're here because we're meant to be."
Her throat constricts with emotion, with love, and she thinks she might cry. Is this a dream? She's imagined this moment a thousand times and now it's real, and it's everything, and it's just perfect.
He slowly closes the gap between them, his blue eyes full of desire and fixed on hers until the very last moment, when darkness takes over and he presses his lips to hers.
Home.
That's how it feels. Like it's always been there, waiting for her. And it has; he has.
They kiss for an eternity, tender and slow at first, then deeper and more desperately. Olivia has never been so turned on before in her entire life. She's on fire, melting in his arms.
When he finally lets her go, they're both struggling to breathe.
"I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do that," he murmurs, brushing his thumb over her cheek. "You are so beautiful, Livvie."
"Is it too soon for you to take me to bed?" she asks, covering his hand with hers. She doesn't care how that sounds. They've waited long enough.
Fitz smiles; kisses her again. It's the most magical feeling in the world.
"It's not too soon at all," he says, pressing her firmly into his body, making her shiver from head to toe. "In fact, it's long overdue."
On a magic night;
Can I just have one more moondance with you,
My love?