𝕄𝕒𝕫𝕖 ℝ𝕦𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤

Bonfire

*Ok, to all my dancers out there, stoop down to my level of unathletic-icity and just imagine you can't dance for this one. Thanks for the idea Han-Shot-First! I hope you like it, but be warned, I wrote it at midnight so it's not my best work*

"There is no way, I'm doing... whatever that is," Newt insists, plopping down on a log.

Thomas gathers the Gladers and leads them in a group dance that involves jumping, swinging arms, and what can only be described as torso wiggling. I laugh and grab Newt's hand.

"Oh, come on, babe! It'll be fun!"

"I can't dance," he says stubbornly, but doesn’t fight me while I pull him up.

Thomas has begun keeping the beat of the dance by clapping and counting out the rhythm. I glance at him and then copy the dance, without letting go of Newt's hand. A grudging smile sneaks over his face as I stumble over the moves. Sure, I look like a fish stranded on land, but in all honesty, who can actually pull it off without looking completely stupid except Thomas himself?

"Luv, what are you doing?"

I grin. "What's it look like, Newt? I'm dancing!"

"This is ridiculous."

"Don't be a hater!" Taking creative liberty, I raise-the-roof and spin myself using Newt's hand. "Have some fun! Loosen up!"

Newt grudgingly takes my other hand in his and swings our arms about. The bonfire gleams in his chocolate eyes, melting them into amber. Remaining hand in hand, we tap hips. Then the other side. I move in closer and curl myself into his arms, then spin out like a yoyo.

Newt shakes his head, smiling, and pulls me back into his arms.

“You're doing it wrong!” Thomas shouts, still teaching the other Gladers his dance.

"No," Newt says, his voice barely a whisper, "we're doing it just right."

His hands fall to my waist, pulling me closer to the warmth radiating from his body, and he kisses my forehead. A shiver runs down my spine. I tilt my chin up and glance at his pink lips that part painstakingly slowly.

"Hey! We're dancing here! Go make out somewhere else!"

"Jealous is not your best look, Tommy!" Newt calls back.

When he turns away, my heels fall back the ground. I hadn't even realized I'd been on my tip toes, but, as quickly as my feet had touched the dirt floor, they'd been swept up off the ground once again. Newt picks me up by the waist and spins me around once, then plants a kiss on my cheek. Ever so slowly he moves his lips closer to mine. My breath catches.

Thomas makes a gagging noise and a shoe hits Newt in the back of the head. My boyfriend stumbles and falls forward, pushing me backward.

"Are you shucking kidding me, Tommy?"

"New Rule of the Glade: no PDA! Especially when I'm dancing."

Newt's face is red with fury and embarrassment, but I just snicker behind my hand as they argue back and forth. Thomas' discarded shoe catches my eye and I pick it up. Disregarding the fact that I could probably fit my entire head in the thing, I take aim and toss it at Thomas. It nails him right in the head. I use the moment of distraction to snatch Newt's hand and tug him away.

Newt stumbles, but keeps up with me until I plop down behind a small hill, resting my head on a log. "Turn around," I order.

"What? Why?" Newt is adorable when he's confused; the scrunch of his nose and furrow of his brows. Enough to make any girl swoon.

"I have to make sure Thomas didn't hurt my boyfriend." Butterflies explode in my belly and a smile sneaks across my face at the term of endearment.

He grins and shakes his head, but complies. When I confirm that- surprise surprise- the canoe of a shoe has indeed left no mark, I plant a kiss on Newt's golden hair. He tips his head back and looks up at me, an impish sparkle in his eyes. Seeing him upside down ignites the urge to kiss him like Spiderman and MJ. I let it take over and his lips meet mine once again.

Bliss.

And then-

Suffocation.

We break apart and he twists his body,  pulling me onto his lap as he buries his face in the crook of my neck. His scent fills my nostrils and I wrap my arms around his torso.

Goose bumps pebble my flesh. Without the fire right in front to me, the icy bite of night air has snuck up on me. I shiver and snuggle closer to Newt. The sound of Thomas' dance class mingles with the crackling of fire in my ears.

"Are you cold, luv?" Newt whispers, planting a kiss on my collarbone.

I don't want to move so I lie, "No, I'm alright."

His head pops up and his deep brown eyes bore into mine. "Are you sure?"

His expression morphs into what I've begun calling the Mama Newtie Face and I giggle. "Yes, I'm sure. Don't worry so much about me."

"I wouldn't have to," he grumbles, pushing me off his lap, "if one of us were more honest."

Newt pulls off his hoodie- tan in daylight, but bathed in the orange glow of the fire- and combs a hand through his hair. "Here you go."

"Newt, baby, you don't have to! Look at you, you're practically skin and bones! You'll catch your death without this."

"Don't worry so much about me," he mocks, pushing the jacket over my head. His voice pitches an octave higher to match mine.

"I wouldn't have to if one of us were more honest," I shoot right back, making my voice low and gravelly while tacking on a British accent.

"Do I really sound like the Cookie Monster, but British?" Newt asks, he shoves his lower lip out poutily, but his eyes sparkle in amusement.

"It's better than sounding like a mouse!"

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, shut up!"

"You shut up!"

"Make me!"

So I do.