Charlie orders another drink. The party around her is loud. The men are drinking. The girls around them are giggling. Miles is on his way to be the kind of drunk that makes it impossible for him to deny that Monroe is still his best friend in the whole damn world. Monroe is standing next to Miles, sharing a bottle with him. Both men have similar grins on their faces. Maybe this time she is the one that's delusional, but she can finally see the friendship between Monroe and her uncle that is still there and that has survived almost two decades of a Republic gone to hell and their own stupidity.
It's barely midnight but she is not sure if she wants to stay. She had to wear a dress. Of course she had to. She had looked at Miles with a deadly look in her eyes when he told her she had to wear one while his eyes were filled with amusement and his words were filled with sarcasm. Monroe had leaned against the kitchen counter with a stupid grin on his face. She had crossed her arms before her chest before more deadly looks were aimed at them both.
There is music and whiskey. She feels different tonight, in a long dress that flows around her body and that feels soothing against her skin that carries the scent of fresh, soft soap. She wants to go but another part wants to stay. She can feel the eyes of the men in the room on her. And all of a sudden, she misses her crossbow. She misses her tank and jeans. She orders another drink and lets the whiskey burn in the back of her throat the way only Mathesons can.
Connor has watched her. He has watched her all night. It is impossible not to watch her. She is still her. She is still the girl he met years ago. He had quickly found out she was not like the girls back home. She is still the same girl with the same scars, the same strength to fight the fights she has to fight.
But tonight, he discovers more of what makes her her. He watches how she orders another drink before she puts the glass to her lips. He can see the tension in her slender, strong shoulders. He can see the hesitation she tries to drink away. He wants to dance with her. He wants to find out if she will ever look at him again the way she has looked at him before. He knows he fucked up, when he had left his dad and her behind. He knows he fucked up because of his own bruises, anger and hurt that had had led to believing that leaving with Neville would kill the pain. But somehow, since the day he came back, now one year ago, Charlie is slowly giving him another chance. Just like his dad. Just like Miles. Maybe he doesn't deserve it, but he does know he wants it.
When she starts walking through the crowd, he follows her. Charlie can feel Connor's tall body behind her before he even talks to her. She looks up and her eyes meet his. She can see something happening inside his eyes she wishes she could ignore. 'What?'
Connor smiles at her. He nods. 'Come on…' The light of the room plays with his dark curls while the question of where he will take her plays with the stubborn strong blue of her eyes. She gives him hell with her eyes but she still follows him.
They walk outside. The air of a long Texan night is light. It's quiet outside, the music of the band inside fades but still lingers in the air. Before she can ask him what he wants or before her mind can decide what she wants, the warmth of his hand finds hers. Connor gently pulls her closer until it is him and her, and the wave of her body wrapped in a long blue dress against his body. There is barely any music, but Connor starts dancing with her.
'You look beautiful…' His voice is deep and soft. She wishes she didn't hear the honesty in his words. There is a wave of wild Matheson panic that spreads though her chest before his eyes are there, deep and dark with Monroe strength. Connor is not messing with her, his words are filled with truth and when he looks at her, he really looks at her and only her. Friend. Lover. More.. She isn't sure. Connor looks at her again. His chest is hard against the soft lines of her breasts. She can feel him breathe. His familiar scent is close. She can see the depth of what they have been through and where and who they are now in his eyes. More than a friend. She is aware of how close his mouth his to hers. But he doesn't move. She doesn't move. They just are what they are.
Connor looks at Charlie. It's the first time he sees her blush. Her eyes find his again. Connor's chest swells with her. It is the first time she lets him in like the way she does now. His hand is warmth against her back. His slow relaxed grin makes her finally relax. And there, in the shadow of a tall tree in a small Texan town Connor dances with her, with her warmth close and the softness of her lips close to his.