It was pretty ridiculous, honestly. But the relief-thrill of verdict still sang in Phoenix's veins, and the tinny little radio filled her office with life, and as long as Mia danced with him, he didn't care. Momentum fanned her long hair and for a moment, her smile was girlish in a way he'd never seen.
"I didn't know you were so good on your feet, Phoenix."
"I was an art major," he said, and grinned hopefully, "That's like dancing. Sort of."
"Oh, of course."
She smiled knowing, and swept back in electric-close, their footfalls nowhere near the song's beats at all. Mia couldn't seem to decide if she wanted to lead -- her hand was sometimes firm on his hip, sometimes laid coquettish over his shoulder -- and Phoenix couldn't have minded if he tried. Her other hand stayed laced in his. A step and flair and spin, and he suddenly had courage bright enough to dip her; the world was Mia's twinkling eyes and earth-warm laugh, her weight on Phoenix's elbow.
He moved to a beat for hours afterward. The song should have gone on forever.