"I haven't danced in ages."
"What? We dance all the time Camille."
Her eyebrow quirked up and Moose smiled widely. She wore dark makeup and a black dress—the perfect getup for the performance on stage. The music pumped through his veins and he knew Camille could feel it too. She stood with apprehension, but Moose gave her a rub on the shoulders and a quick kiss on the cheek. Despite her nervousness, Camille grinned. One can never quell a dancer's excitement, after all. Time to get up there. With a jump, Moose took Camille's hand and pulled her onstage. He heard her laugh and a thrill ran through him as they maneuvered their way to the center of the performance.
And they danced. The heat—of both the moving, spinning, jumping dancers and the crowd's ecstasy—was disorienting, but Moose pulled Camille close, chin and cheek pressed up against hers. She moved against him. He could feel her smile as he kissed her. Moose didn't need anyone telling him he was just about the luckiest man alive. He loved dancing. He loved his girlfriend. And here was Camille swaying alongside him. They were one.