Don't you want me baby?

Don't you want me...oooooooooh

Don't you want me baby?

Music continued to blare. Hearts and stereos pounding in sync. And one look at her took away all his troubles. He approached her, unable to stop himself from admiring the way she bobbed to the beat. She turned, noticing him, and gave him an expectant grin.

"Okay, fine!" he shouted, standing at the edge of the bleachers. "Maybe I didn't need you to come." Still bobbing her head, she smiled.

"This DJ is pretty great! And a freshman asked me to dance, but I said 'no'." she grinned. He smiled back.

"Oh, you heart-break!" he said in a half-assed joking tone while insecurity seemed tugged at the corners of his mouth and danced in his eyes. He shuffled over tentatively and stretched out his hand, half withdrawing it while he did so.

"You wanna dance with an adult?" he said, noticing his own nervousness a bit too late to successfully hide it from her.

"I can't dance!" she said, her hands tossed around a crossed leg. He jerked his head.

"Come on! You can do a music video about kidnapping, but you can't get up and pretend to hop around for a second or two? Come on." he said, decidedly not taking 'no' for an answer and jetting his hand toward her further. She suddenly felt a little shy and gave him a bit of a dubious look. Feeling very suddenly that she shouldn't have worn the green dress, she smacked her hand into his. Helping her up, he began to lead her to the dance floor, but she pulled in the other direction, reaching for her crutches. He pulled her, desperately wanting to get her on the dance floor, desperately wanting an excuse to put his hands on her.

"Just lean on me." he said. He held on tight as she complied and bounced over to the middle of the dance floor.

"Alright. Okay. Alright." he said as she grasped at him tightly, and secretly wishing she would grab him tighter.

"All right." she said bobbing her head again, ready to dance to the high tempo song. Both could feel their stomachs drop and their chests tighten as the lights dimmed and the music slowed.

Swaying room as the music starts...

She gave him a stunned, wide-eyed look. He looked around.

"All right, so fast, slow. Doesn't matter. I'm still gonna do the same moves." he said, struggling to play off how nervous and excited he felt right now. She grinned nervously.

"Okay..." she said.

"All right. Okay."

He took her hand in his and lifted it, gently beginning to sway her around. She felt her nose touch his jacket. Unable to even think to stop herself, she inhaled and instantly became intoxicated by his scent. She was poisoned by it.

"Did you win over Rosalie?" she said, half caring about the answer, just wanting to think and get him to think about something else.

"Well..." his tone sad, "She's taking Justine home."

"I'm sorry." she said, sad and increasingly becoming more nervous. She felt him nod against her hair.

Strangers making the most of the dark

Two by two their bodies become one...

She felt her arms expand as he fell deeper into them. He was so vulnerable. He always had been, but now he seemed to have lost the ability to sweep it under a wave of anger and aggression. He buried himself in her shoulder, inhaling her essence, allowing her to poison him back. He would have begged for this. He could feel himself slipping away.

I see you through the smoky air…

She pulled herself from him, wanting to see in his face if she was imagining things, but she wasn't prepared for his eyes to penetrate hers like they did.

Can't you feel the weight of my stare?

She could feel his breath coming in short, quick puffs. He could feel her heart pound. Both knew what was coming, but neither would agree if it was the right time for it.

You're so close...

Their heated, scared breath intertwined as their lips inched closer. The moment paused for both of them and a reflective state filled them as both of their minds began to reel.

He would kiss her. His lips would slip in-between hers and never willingly let go. He could feel it. He would hold her, scoop her into his arms, and bury himself into her. And she would let him. She would move her mouth in perfect unison with his. He would make her lose herself into him. He would sweep her off her feet. They would laugh, the hard part over. He would shyly ask her if she needs a ride. They would lock eyes, both knowing what that offer means. They would walk to his car as inconspicuously as they could. The ride home would blur, as the world would scuffle away from them. They would question for years later how they even got in the house because he was pretty sure he left his spare key with Justine. Doors would slam. The floor would disappear beneath increasing piles of clothing. Seams would rip from eagerness. She would feel him say 'oops' into her mouth. She would choke him with her tongue. Hands on hands, hands on waist, hands on breasts. Moans exchanged between the shared hot puffs of recycled air.

And both would feel more accepted and more loved in this moment, with this act: an act viewed by friends and colleagues as a cheap fuck. Both had fucked and been fucked; this wasn't that. No, this wouldn't end in skipping breakfast the next morning or sneaking out before sunrise; he would make sure of that. This would end in her on his bed. This would end with him making her scream like she had never screamed before. This would end with him nursing the scratches on his back the next morning and her kissing them, red from embarrassment, repeatedly saying sorry into his anxious mouth.

"It's fine. You were just excited."

"Were?"

"Mmm..."

It would end with them hungry for more.

And Ruth knew this too. And she stopped. Her mind spun with hateful, angry words.

"Fucking the director?! You're fucking the director?!"

"You fucking slut. Sure, fuck Sam, but don't fuck the guy who can cancel us. You don't care

about this show."

"You'll fuck the director but not the guy who has our show by the balls?"

"Isn't he like way too old for you?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

She could feel her eyes begin to well up as he looked deeper into them. He inched closer. She wanted this more than anything; she would be happy. But it wasn't what was best for the show. It wasn't what was best for them. At least not now.

...but still so far away...

Despite it being the hardest thing she would ever do, she ripped herself from his tender grasp.

"My ankle hurts!" she yelped. He looked stunned and followed her.

"All right! You wanna sit down, or-?" he asked, confusedly. She grabbed her crutches and began to make her way toward the exit.

"No, I should go." she said, scooting away.

"Don't go. I'll drive you home."

"No! It's Justine's last night! You stay. I'll get a cab." she said, already halfway out of the auditorium.

"Ruth? Ruth?" he shook his head. Damn it, he mouthed.

I've never wanted anyone like this...

She looked back. He was staring. They were far now, but she could see his eyes desperately pleading for her to stay. Once again, she ripped herself from him and left, and he watched her go.

oOo

She hadn't stopped thinking about him all the way home, but she hadn't stopped trying to either. She exited the cab and made her way to his apartment. Stairs, she thought, Good! Stairs. Focus on stairs. As she made her way up them, she heard a voice.

"You breaking into my apartment?" It was Russell. Exactly as she hoped. She had rushed over here, a bag of rented movies in her hand. She had rushed. And she knew the moment she kissed him, and she would, all she would be able to think about was Sam. When Russell's mustache brushed her upper lip, she would feel Sam's tickling her instead. When he pushed her into his bed, she would feel Sam's hands unzip her dress. When he entered her, she would hear Sam's moan.

Too bad Sam wouldn't be there to experience that.

She just had to make sure not to yell Sam's name.