This is not the way you dance when she's your friend. This clutching, desperate, weepy embrace, this needy, shaky swaying to music you can't even hear anymore. Friends aren't supposed to dance until her breasts are pressed up against your chest, or until your arm's encircle her slim waist completely. Friends' faces aren't supposed to be buried in friends' shoulders when they dance like this. Friends aren't supposed to know every movement, every shift of her hips, every slide of her dress. Every gentle, hidden sob between her bare shoulder blades. Friend's aren't supposed to pull in the fresh, warm scent of him with this kind of desperation.

'At last, my love has come along.'

Friends aren't supposed to listen to the lyrics of that song as they dance together. Friend's aren't supposed to prickle in their chests when her breath lights on your neck. They aren't supposed to fly.

They aren't supposed to close their eyes.

This is not the way friends dance.